"Of course, the old story, of how I disappeared in the hot weather
of '81, is well known to you," began Captain Mallender senior, as he
moved his chair a little nearer to his nephew. "We had capital sport
in Coorg,--it's shot out now.--I was fond of exploring all over the
place, when my lazy pals were lying on their backs, reading novels,
and smoking. In this way, I happened on a lady and her servants, who
were in a bad fix; their bullock carriage got stuck in crossing a
ford, and I came to their rescue. It turned out, that the lady was of
the Royal house of Coorg, an Ikeri Princess; her name was Puvaka 'the
flower sister.'--She has since been baptised Alida. The Princess was
sixteen years of age, and amazingly beautiful; never had I seen such
a face, and I fell madly in love with her, on the spot. The Princess
Puvaka spoke a little English, I, a little Canarese, and well--I leave
the details to your imagination. We had several moonlight meetings.
I was absolutely infatuated, so, poor child, was she. I knew very
well that her people would never consent to our marriage,--nor mine
either, for that matter, but I threw such trifles to the winds! As for
my family, my regiment, and my future, I never gave them a thought.
Speaking dispassionately, and as an old man--there is no question, that
such love, is undoubtedly a species of insanity! I decided to elope to
Madras, there to get married, and see what turned up? I had money, she
had astounding beauty. We were both young, and the world was before us!
Our plans were on the point of maturing, when one moonlight night, we
suddenly found ourselves betrayed, and surprised. Alida's infuriated
kinsmen fell upon me like savages, I made a hard fight--but it was no
good, one to fifty; when they had overpowered me and bound me fast,
they cut off my nose, ears, eyelids, and upper lip. The Coorgs have a
special instrument for this operation,--a sort of slicing knife called
an 'Odu Katti.'"
Mallender had hastily risen to his feet, and in a strange hoarse voice
exclaimed, "Good Lord, _now_--I understand!"
"Sit down--sit down!" snapped his Uncle. "Yes, death would have
been far better; but the Coorg capital punishment,--trampling with
elephants,--was not at the moment available. I was left mutilated,
and all but dead. Alida escaped her brother's vengeance, they simply
cast her off. She and her woman, and an old man, carried me to a
hiding-place, and with native herbs and oils, gradually healed my
wounds; but I was, and am, a frightful and repulsive object; for theirs
was no gentle operation, but a frenzied hacking, and hewing. Naturally,
it was impossible for me to return, or ever again show my _face_ in
England! At first, when I realised all I had lost, I was determined
to put an end to myself,--but Alida barred that way. She has been my
good angel, a miracle of patience, and forbearance, has made me a home,
cultivated the English language, and mitigated my life in death. We
live here under a native name, for part of the year, and in the hot
weather we go into camp out in Mysore, or to Bangalore, where I have
a large house, near the Fort. Time, and money, have blunted the raw
edge of my misery; I have my luxuries, shooting, horses, motors, yes!
the rupees are a wonderful balm. I take a keen interest in native and
European life, and am acquainted with many matters that are hidden from
my countrymen, and I pull various strings for my country's good. I
have had my eye on you, Geoffrey, my namesake. You take after me, and
are bold, and enterprising--not like your father, who was dreamy and
bookish, poor fellow, and naturally stagnant."
"But, you know, I came out here to look for you, by _his_ wish."
"So I understood."
"He was full of remorse; because he had not answered your letter in
person."
"To what good?" demanded his brother, with a touch of passion, "I
was done for. I have paid the price of my folly; and yet Alida is a
treasure. She endures my fits of depression, my irritable, exacting,
temper. Sometimes I tell myself, that _her_ fate has been the worst.
We were married by a missionary,--since dead,--and she is your lawful
Aunt, Alida Mallender. I know, you have a stout heart, nephew. Would
you care to carry out your bold intention, and see me really face to
face?"
"Yes," of course, was the confident answer. "Many a time, I have sat
gazing at your picture in the dining-room at home."
"Ah, I'm glad I'll go down to posterity, as that good-looking young
fellow. Now, you shall see the original," and Captain Mallender--late
of the Blue Hussars--fumbled for a moment with spectacles and beard,
then rose, and slowly advanced into the full light of the two candles.
Geoffrey braced himself, and rising from his place stood up to meet his
ordeal.
He looked over at the man who confronted him across the table, yet in
spite of strong nerves, and a certain amount of preparation, he gave a
sharp involuntary cry. What he beheld, was a grey bent old man, wearing
a black skull cap; his withered cheeks were deeply sunken, his scanty
beard, was white, and oh, the awful noseless face, the bare grinning
teeth, the lidless eyeballs,--expressing mute agonised interrogation,
and years of hopeless anguish.
The sweat stood out on Mallender's forehead, as his eyes were set in a
fixed, and horror-stricken stare.
"You could not blame me for _hiding_?" asked his Uncle thickly, "could
you?"
Mallender caught his breath in a sort of sob, and stammered:
"No."
Then the expatriated victim, turning his back, and resuming his
disguise, once more seated himself, and there ensued an eloquent
silence. Mallender the younger, was so severely and unexpectedly
shaken, that for some moments he could not articulate; he felt
completely stunned, and incapable alike of speech or coherent thought.
At last he said in a broken voice:
"Oh, Uncle Geoffrey, I can't express--what I feel for you!"
"Thank you, my boy," came the answer in a husky tone, "now that you
have had your wish, you understand, don't you?"
"Yes, oh my God, I do!" responded his nephew.
"Few are acquainted with this horror--my fate," resumed Captain
Mallender senior. "Some devoted Coorg dependents, screen us from the
world, and their fellow-servants. I pose as a wealthy native who has
made a fortune in tobacco, and am related to the old princely family of
Gulberga, now, I may tell you, extinct."
"But isn't it impossible to personate a native?"
"Not at all. I had always a talent for languages, I speak Tamil, and
Canarese like my mother tongue. I pretend, that I was educated in
England--this accounts for my English tastes, my books, manner of
riding, choice of food, and so on. I have an English sitting-room, with
English arm-chairs, and lined with books, here and at Bangalore. It is
looked upon as one of my numerous eccentricities. On the other hand, I
smoke a huka, I maintain a royal reserve, and state; I give to the poor
with both hands, and I tolerate at least a hundred parasites."
"And what of Brown and Brown? How much do _they_ know?"
"They know everything," was the startling rejoinder. "Never withhold
secrets from your men of business; and besides, in my case, they are
necessary to manage my affairs, remit money, receive letters, and keep
me in touch with England."
"Yes, I can see that, they did not give me much of a welcome--a pair of
sun-dried old scorpions!"
"Don't be hard on them, Geoffrey. Your unexpected descent naturally put
us out terribly. Probably you can now imagine how very uneasy you made
me feel, until I discovered that your methods were childish."
"The whole thing was childish on my part."
"No, I won't allow that. I am more than thankful that you came. You
have roused and shaken me out of a groove; to know, that a real live
nephew, had so far exerted himself, as to come to India to find me!
made me once more think of myself, as Geoffrey Mallender, and not as
the Nawab Dooloo of Idacotta. And now tell me something about yourself?"
Geoffrey had not yet weathered the shock of his Uncle's history and its
illustration; in a few halting sentences he spoke of his upbringing,
his having left the service, and his hitherto uneventful career.
"Well, out here, your career has been fairly eventful, thanks to _me_,"
said his Uncle. "I intend to make up to you, for your hardships. I
expect you are in pretty low water with regard to money, eh, my boy?"
"Yes, I am afraid so; however, I have enough to take me home."
"You have. Brown and Co. have executed a deed in which Mallender is
made over to you altogether. Of what use is it to a man like me? it is
now yours absolutely."
"But that would never do! I could not accept it," protested Geoffrey,
"what are you to live on? If you will continue the allowance you made
my father----"
"Don't worry about me," interrupted his Uncle, "I am not a poor man,
even minus Mallender. For thirty years, my expenses have been moderate.
I've no society to entertain, no clubs, no cards, no racers, no polo
ponies. Like old Beamish, I have put by, and invested large sums, most
of which will go to you after my death and Alida's. I've left some
legacies to servants, and pensioners, and a trifle to Freddy; what a
stiff-necked little beggar it is!"
"Yes, but as far as I'm concerned, I don't blame him."
"Little does he guess, that _I_ am his obnoxious next-door neighbour!
or how I like to hear him storming at me, for a nuisance, when we burn
weeds and woods, and the wind is his way; nor does he imagine, that I
am often in Madras. I wear a pair of goggles, and sometimes drive my
own car, and get about a good deal. I go to races, and cricket matches,
I was at the polo, and witnessed your performance. When I appear in
public, I wear a turban and beard, and sit well back in the car like a
'Gosha' woman, so as to keep up my reputation, of an eccentric native
gentleman of high degree. You ride well, Geoffrey, and I intend to
give you a horse to take home; a splendid black Arab called 'Baber.' I
shall like to think that he who has carried me out here, later on, will
gallop round the old park, and the place where I was born."
"Surely something could be done for you, Uncle Geoffrey?" said
Mallender. "Why not come home yourself? In these days, surgeons and
science seem to work miracles."
"My good nephew! I now see that Fred has some ground for saying you
have a strain of madness in your brain. I'm beyond human help. Here, I
have dree'd my weird,--here I'll die. Supposing I were to accompany you
home,--and my old heart leaps at the thought!--what do you think people
would say? They'd swear I was a rank impostor. Mallender of the Blue
Hussars, was drowned years and years ago."
"But you could do the same as out here, take another name?" urged
Geoffrey the persistent.
"Always optimistic, and full of schemes, I see! No, no, the Nawab will
bide in Madras."
Then rising from his place he came nearer, a strange but not horrifying
object, with false nose and beard, the eyeballs looking out from the
black-rimmed glasses wore a soft expression as he said:
"You must make it up with Fred, tell him, you've carried out
your project and seen me, are reinstated, and sole owner of
Mallender,--park, property, house, and its contents down to the very
teaspoons!"
"But listen to me, Uncle Geoffrey. I really cannot take it all like
that, in your lifetime."
"You can, in short, there's no help for it. Mallender is yours now, as
much as the coat on your back."
The new owner of Mallender was about to expostulate, but his Uncle held
up his hand.
"To let you into a secret, Geoffrey--I am proud of you!"
"It's awfully good of you to say so, Uncle, but although I meant well,
I've been more or less, of a pig-headed idiot."
"As for that, I happen to know, how you came to the rescue of that
unfortunate girl, Miss Sim; packed her off home, and paid her passage.
It was you, who faced Rochfort's wife, stifled a terrible scandal, and
made peace. Finally, I'm told that you saved the life of old Beamish's
daughter, and nearly lost your own. Now for each of these deeds, I give
you a good mark."
Mallender laughed uncomfortably.
"Your next exploit, must be to find a really nice girl--and marry her."
"I have found her."
"What! Who? Not Tara Beamish? No--no."
"Miss Miller--you may have seen her?"
"Yes, a pretty little fair girl, rides like a bird--had a narrow escape
of marrying her father's old pal. That young woman has grit; I give you
my consent, and she shall have a suitable wedding present. I'm glad you
did not fall in love with the other!"
"Then you've seen the youngest Miss Beamish?"
"Yes, in Bangalore--a beautiful creature, with wild, blue blood in her
veins. I've also seen her mother--that was many years ago.--And I knew
more of the girl's history, than her adopted parents; but then, as I've
told you, I live behind the scenes and hold many secrets. Well, there
is no mystery about your future wife, and I wish you joy. The moon is
favourable, and to-night, we shall celebrate two great events; your
visit to me, and your engagement. I shall inaugurate a big Tamasha
and my retainers will call it the feast of the full moon; but to me,
it will be the fête of Geoffrey, and his little lady! Now, my boy,
this has been a trying interview; I know," and his voice broke, "that
you feel for me; but you'd better go now, and come again--I'm rather
played out. I know I need not ask you, to keep my secret," again his
voice failed, and he sat down, and struck a little hand bell. Instantly
the door opened, and the Coorg Princess appeared beckoning from the
threshold.
"It has been an amazing exertion," she said as she and Geoffrey stood
together in the verandah, "I'm thankful it is over."
"Yes," assented her companion, "so am I."
"He likes you so much, you have been such a great interest to him, and
made him so proud and happy, for you have always been an honourable
gentleman. We heard of you up in Coorg, my country, and in beautiful
Mysore. I am your Aunt Alida."
Mallender bowed assent, then as he looked into her face, stirred by an
inexplicable impulse, he stooped, and lifted her hand to his lips. Why
not? She was his Uncle's wife, and she held herself like royalty. For a
moment, she surveyed him earnestly with her burning black eyes, noting
as she did so, that the young man was woefully thin; his cheeks were
sunken, his clothes worn, and almost shabby. Undoubtedly, he had tasted
both sickness and poverty.
"You have had a hard time," she murmured gently, "but if one leaves the
beaten road,--one has to pay!"
As Geoffrey gazed into her worn but beautiful face, he realised with a
pang, that this low-voiced Aunt, who had abandoned a beaten road,--had
paid, heavily.
"You will come again," she urged, "we will arrange with Brown and
Brown; they forward letters; the motor waits to take you wherever you
please. Good-bye!" and turning towards the drawing-room, she waved him
farewell.