Chapter XV

Accompanied by Anthony and Chinna-Sawmy, his luggage and many bundles, Mallender left Madras by rail at five o'clock. The carriages were crammed in the usual fashion; natives of India have an insatiable passion for travel, and are absolutely regardless of heat, packed compartments, and semi-suffocation. The train dawdled through the suburbs, then away across hot dry plains, by palms, villages and temples, till at length it crawled into Panjeverram. Panjeverram, although but twenty miles from the City was a silent, forlorn, and forsaken, old place; there was no sign of life or bustle at its modest humble station,--not even a _gharry_ in waiting. The luggage and bundles were therefore placed on a _tailer_ (or hand-cart) and trundled off to the Dâk Bungalow, through a great avenue of banyan trees,--so closely meeting overhead, that they constituted a long black tunnel; only a faint light here and there like fire-flies in a forest broke its cimmerian gloom. The little party did not encounter a soul, before they turned over a brick culvert, and found themselves in front of the rest-house. This was old, and out of repair; its atmosphere, even that hot March night, felt damp; and the air was heavily impregnated by an odour of mildew, mushrooms, and bats.

A visitor was evidently a precious rarity, and the venerable Dâk Matey was full of rapture, and eager and voluble apologies. He shouted orders to some unseen subordinate in the back verandah, and proceeded to light lamps and bustle about. He laid a newspaper as table-cloth, placed on it two candles in black bottles, and between these, a bunch of zinnias in a mustard tin; a knife and fork and tumbler, produced from Mallender's tiffin basket, gave a business-like air to these preparations; a pat of white butter, and a small bazaar loaf, were added by Anthony, who casually remarked that "he had just done kill one big snake, in Master's bathroom!"

"Very bad that snake, but only coming after water," he explained, as he moved about unpacking, giving directions in Tamil to the hoary Matey, and goading him to frenzied exertions. Then turning to Mallender, with an air of authority, he said:

"Master better wash, and I bring soup."

The bedroom proved to be nearly as bare as the immortal cupboard of Mother Hubbard, and merely contained a charpoy, a chair, a battered punkah, and cobwebs,--thick as ropes! The dinner also proved a disappointment; soup of Worcester sauce and hot water, goat chops, the inevitable anchovy toast, and a small bottle of beer.

Mallender realised that he must adjust himself to the position, and get used to this sort of thing! He had fallen into fastidious ways, and been spoiled, and pampered, by the luxuries of Hooper's Gardens.

When the meal was over, and the newspaper had been ceremoniously removed, he drew a candle towards him and proceeded to re-read the letter of instructions, which had been duly delivered at the Madras hotel:

"DEAR SIR,

"We have now the pleasure to forward by hand the information as
required. Your gentleman, Major Smith, lives at Panjeverram where he
owns a large bungalow, called the Nabob's House, and lives in great
secrecy. The place is surrounded by high walls, and entered by a
heavy wooden gate. Major Smith's affairs are managed by old
servants, who cannot be _bribed_; he is rarely seen, sometimes not
for years, but he is in Panjeverram _now._ He receives no visitors
or letters, no more than if he was _defunct_. We believe that he is
your man, and hope we are correct. We should add, that you will
find it prudent to be on the spot, and that to gain admittance will
be difficult; it may take weeks, or even months."

Mallender's heart sank. Months!--in this squalid bungalow, the resort of toddy cats, bats, and snakes.

"Perseverance must be rewarded," the letter continued. "If your
servants can make friends with Major Smith's servants, it will be
the thin edge of the wedge, but you must push, push, _push_."

Having folded up this epistle, Mallender lit a cigar, and went out to pace the verandah, forgetful and regardless of reptiles, till he trod upon the dead snake, and uttering a word which begins and ends with "D," he kicked the limp body into the bushes, whereupon Anthony, who had been summoned, and stood at the doorway at attention, was moved to say:

"Master taking care, and never walking out of light. Other snake _always_ coming, to look for lover!"

"Hang the snakes' lovers!" cried his master impatiently. "I called you to say, that I am likely to be here for some time, and you must send a coolie to Madras early to-morrow, to fetch stores, and other things from Oakes and Spencer's."

"Chinna-Sawmy can go," replied Smiler with an air of superb importance. "I can spare him, plenty things wanted. To-day all hurry and hurly-burly, no time to arrange. Nothing here, no filter, no charcoal, no matches, no cocoanut oil, no--" spreading out his hands, "anything--but one old fool man."

"There is a bazaar, I presume?"

"Yes, but for native peoples only and half-castes, who live in the old bungalows--and never paying no rent. No one ever coming, but sometimes to see big big temple, and house opposite," pointing dramatically into the thick darkness, "where one English lady was murdered. Master, chase with knife, and cut throat!"

"There is one English gentleman here," said Mallender, "Major Smith. I want you to make acquaintance with his servants, I wish to meet him myself."

"Oh, yes, sir, I understand," replied Anthony, with a whole volume of significance in his voice. "That I can do! I shall get introduced--then I will introduce Master."

"I see you know what I mean,--and now you can go."

Thus dismissed, Anthony took his noiseless departure, and presently made one of the corpse-like figures, swathed in white, that were stretched on the ground--successfully wooing sleep, between the servants' quarters, and the cook's house.

Mallender remained alone, pacing to and fro, whilst the candles within burnt low, a distant pi dog howled, and bats made muffled noises, as they fluttered in and out of the verandah.

* * * * *

Early the next morning, after a truly miserable night,--thanks to heat, mosquitoes and the skirmishing of toddy cats in the ceiling-cloth, the adventurer went forth to reconnoitre, and make observations. He discovered an immensely wide road, with stretches of grass at either side, lined with magnificent banyans. Here and there a bungalow arrested the eye; some were large and stately, some were insignificant; some were thatched, some tiled, many--among a wild tangle of fruit trees, and long-neglected bushes of oleander, and jasmin--were falling into ruin; one and all the miserable reminders of the opulence, and glories of the past. In India the elements assist old Father Time with amazing zeal and success. The blasting hot winds, the blistering sun, torrents of tropical downpour and the perpetual ravages of legions of white ants, soon occasion surprising changes in an uninhabited dwelling. At a little distance to the left, the explorer noticed a straggling bazaar; still continuing the main road, he came to a house standing apart, and surrounded by a high and dignified wall,--such as might enclose an important monastic institution. The entrance was by a heavy iron-studded wooden gate, with a small postern.

Mallender walked slowly past, then turned, and retraced his steps, and finally halted before the gate. Within, was the man he sought! How soon would he see him face to face? How soon might he summon the law to his assistance? Undoubtedly the criminal had found an admirable hiding-place; here he lay, so to speak, entrenched, far from the madding crowd. Probably these solid walls had once encompassed the home and harem of some wealthy "Free" Madras merchant, in the good old times when Panjeverram was a fashionable resort, and the pagoda tree was laden with golden fruit.

For several days nothing happened, save that each morning the heat steadily increased, and like some bodily force descended upon the hard, cracked soil, and consumed all moisture. The only breath of air came from the flat plains behind the station, where spasmodic puffs of a scorching sirocco, suggested the gasps of some dying monster. Mallender, a prey to monotony and prickly heat, sat in a stuffy little darkened room, under a listless old punkah, clad in pyjamas, smoking, and meditating; listening to the roar of the hot wind, the thin rustle of whirling dead leaves, and realising that he was in for a long siege!

But such was his character, the more difficulties that confronted him, the more his courage and determination hardened. Each evening, he strolled past the Nabob's House like a policeman on duty, but the big gate was always shut fast, and the premises were silent as a cemetery. Meanwhile Anthony was craftily undermining the position, and making insidious advances to the native household; in short, he exhibited cunning, which almost rose to the dignity of a talent!

"I have spoken to Francis the butler," he announced, mysteriously. "He is a big big man, with red turban and gold watch. He is Roman Catholic, and knows my father! He say to me, 'Why your Master coming here?' and he look awfully cross. I say, 'Panjeverram too much interesting to gentleman, who make photographs to get money.' 'But he has two servants,' he say, 'and brings Europe stores, and books, from Madras.--Truly _not_ poor man!'"

"That must have stumped you, Smiler?"

"'No, no,' I say, awfullee quick, 'Stores and books _he_ never pay for. Them a present from one charitable lady gone to the Hills, Mrs. Tallboys, and as for wages, I telling, Sawmy come as _my_ friend only; and I only taking eight rupees.'"

"Why, you sinner, I pay you thirty!" exclaimed his master, aghast at this string of ready lies. "Anyway, he did not believe you, I'll swear."

"Suppose, he say I no tell truth, but what can do?" raising his shoulders to his ears. "If Master will show work, I carry camera, and we pass bungalow five, six times, a day; then there will be talk, and Francis, butler, will think, 'That Anthony, good Christian boy; _he_ never telling lies,' and will believe me!"

"All right, Smiler, your character shall be cleared. We will start out this afternoon, and I'll photograph the old temple, and lots of other objects, and make a reputation in the bazaar."

According to this arrangement, the big butler had now many opportunities of beholding the diligent gentleman with his camera and attendant passing continually to and fro; or taking snapshots of the most remarkable local objects. The fame of the photographer spread; Anthony exhibited attractive specimens among his acquaintances, and the train was fired! Mallender became known as "the picture-catching master," and not merely "the stranger, who had a _chokra_ with four thumbs."

"Excuse me, saar," pleaded the counsellor, "but to-day, I think of plenty good business. Suppose we go, I and you, and knock loudly on big gate of Nabob's House, two hours after the midday rice--when all people have eaten well, and are full and contented; we will ask humble permission to take photographs. There are young folks within. I gave the portrait you took of me to their ayah; she liking, very, awfullee much,--and has doubtless shown to family."

Mallender thought the programme excellent, and proceeded to act upon it, that same afternoon. After long and loud hammering on the wooden postern, it was at last opened by a peon, and a glimpse of the interior premises was disclosed.

At the farthest end, stood an imposing red-tiled bungalow; between this and the gate was a garden, a well, and a tennis-court--where two boys were playing. Mallender saw no more, as the postern was suddenly darkened by a large turbaned figure. This presumably was Francis, looking alarmingly fierce, and majestic, who stepping into the road, closed the postern behind him with stern significance.

"Photographs--no," waving a beringed hand; "we do not want them, this private house only--please not to trouble, and to go _away_."

The fiat seemed irrevocable, and Geoffrey's hopes sank to zero, when as Francis reopened the door a child's golden head was thrust out, and she called in a shrill voice:

"Francis, why you make all this bobbery? We are going to be done and _I_ say so!"

"You go back, missy," he answered angrily. "Naughty girl,--you go back."

"Yes, we must, we must!" she screamed. The petition was supported by shouts, and a far-away female voice was heard in shrill expostulation. Then the door was violently slammed, and the scene in every sense closed.

As the defeated schemers were moving slowly homeward, a servant came panting behind them.

"You are to come," he called out, breathlessly. "The Miss has given permission."

When the impostor and his satellite crossed the vast enclosure, he noticed fine horses picketed in the open stables, Nellore cows, and a motor; also flocks of pigeons, a luxuriant well-watered garden, with patches of luscious green lucerne, and trees of guava, pomegranate, and bananas.

In the verandah were two lads, nearly as dark as Chinna-Sawmy, with sleek black hair, and beaming eager faces. There was also a little girl with clouds of golden locks, and singularly arresting beauty, a prim elderly European woman with a long upper lip, and a flat figure encased in a stiff print gown, and Black Francis--a mute, hostile, presence. Besides this group on the verandah, there was also a large collection of retainers, who were apparently not entitled to a footing in the house.

"They tell me ye take photographs?" interrogated "the Miss" in a high lachrymose Cork accent.

"Yes, all sorts. I came out here to do the temples, but I'm glad of any job," replied Mallender, now lying with the fluency of Anthony himself.

"Well, these children have been bothering the life out of me, so I suppose I bid to let you take them," and she glanced at Francis, who represented as he stood a living thundercloud.

This permission was received with rapture by the young people; the boys made diabolical grimaces at each other, and the little girl flung her arms round the neck of "the Miss" and nearly strangled her with a hug.

"Oh, well, ye can do a group," she gasped, "and if it comes out all right, we may have the bungalow."

"Yes, and the horses and dogs, and the new motor, and the monkey!" supplemented the child, as she clapped her hands, and skipped about.

"Now, Mota, you be quiet," commanded "the Miss"; then turning to Mallender, and pointing to his portfolio in Anthony's hands, "I'd like to have a look at your things, young man."

"Certainly," answered the photographer, "with pleasure."

"Ye talk like a gentleman, so ye do," she remarked, as she considered Mallender with a pair of sharp grey eyes.

"I--I," taken a little aback,--"have been fairly well educated."

"'Tis more than I have myself," she declared, "but edication on some, does be like diamond buckles on a pair of brogues; I misdoubt," glancing at his shabby kharki suit, "that ye have been a nice play boy!" and with this remark she sat down, and holding the portfolio in her lap went carefully through its contents, whilst Mota rested her chin on her shoulder, and the two boys leant over Mota. Fortunately for the adventurer, they were all three loud and unanimous in their admiration.

"Look at the big temple and the one-eyed beggar!" cried Mota, "and see Soomia with his buffaloes, and the old Dâk Bungalow Matey. Oh, let us be done at once!"

"I can take a group now," said Mallender, briskly.

"Shall I change, Dixie?" enquired the child, "my new lace frock?"

"No, no, ye will do finely as ye are, get your hair brushed, and you boys, Paul and Pedro, go and put on your jackets."

As Mallender adjusted the camera, he made a careful mental photograph of the situation. At the side of the bungalow, he noticed another entrance,--doubtless opening on the plains at the rear. The verandah walls were covered with horns and heads, chiefly of black buck and sambur; comfortable chairs and tables, laden with books and papers, gave a homely touch to the scene, and gasping near the water filter, lay an elderly, well-bred, fox-terrier.

In the presence of a large and attentive crowd, the operator arranged his group, placing "the Miss" in the centre. As he allowed her to choose her own pose, she sat bolt upright, her chin elevated, and a large hand spread like a star-fish, on either knee. "The Miss" was supported by a boy on each side, whilst Mota reclined at her feet. As Mallender scrutinised the party, from under his black velvet cloth, he realised that the little girl was unquestionably of good birth,--judging by her delicate features, and well-bred air; the boys seemed sharp and intelligent, and closely resembled one another, indeed now that he looked at them again, of course they were twins!

After a long pause, many injunctions to be "steady" and an authoritative "hush" from Anthony, his master uttered the word "_Now_," and the cap was off.

Another snapshot followed, and then the operator carried away the plates into a specially darkened bathroom, accompanied by the truculent and suspicious Francis. As the groups were a success, and their price was moderate, "the Miss" suggested a view of the bungalow. This was followed by a full-sized reproduction of the monkey--a deplorable failure--and the old fox-terrier, who well-marked, and short of leg, had undoubtedly at some period of his career abandoned the shores of England.

With such a collection of plates, Mallender was well content; he particularly wished to return again, and yet again, until he encountered and confronted the mysterious master of the Nabob's House.

It took some time to develop and print the plates, as they were sent to Madras, and three days had elapsed before the photographer once more presented himself at the wooden postern.

Meanwhile he heard from Anthony, that the sahib was at home; for Chinna-Sawmy had obtained a footing in the go-downs, thanks to thumb tricks, and his repertoire of new, and improper, Tamil songs! The photographs were approved, with acclamation, and their bearer received a boisterous welcome from the boys and Mota, who amazing to relate, was their own sister! They all became demonstratively friendly, not to say familiar, and asked Mallender where he came from? how much he earned? and, last but by no means least, his name? which he informed them was "Geoffrey."

"Geoffrey," repeated "the Miss"; "I knew a fellow of that name wance in the Roifles--his father had a baker's shop in Cork; bedad, he was a nice bhoy! breaking out of barracks, making away with his kit, fighting, and playing the fool."

Her reminiscences were disturbed by the young people, who swarmed about the camera, begging leave to take snapshots of one another, or to pull off the cap, and to this the photographer graciously consented,--anything to linger, and to gain time.

"Photography is pure foolery," declared "the Miss," "and I would say against it, only it makes a diversion for them, poor children, and days do hang terribly heavy in the holidays and the hot weather: the boys goes to Doveton College, in Madras. Ye might do a single one of Miss Mota here just as a surprise for her Dada."

To this suggestion Mallender willingly assented. The ready and delighted Mota was posed, told to hold up her chin, try and think of something very _nice_, and make a good picture!

As the photographer's head was buried under the black cloth, taking a final look at his pretty little sitter, he heard the sound of a ringing, spurred, footfall on the verandah, a loud exclamation from the child, and a gruff voice, asking:

"What's all _this_?"

Mallender hastily divested himself of his head covering, and for once in his life was struck absolutely dumb. The man in riding-kit, and sun topee, who was staring at him, might be Major Smith, in Panjeverram,--but in England, he was a certain Major Rochfort, with whom the photographer was well acquainted! A good-looking, popular, middle-aged individual,--married to a great heiress. When Mallender was quartered in York, he had often met him in the hunting field, had dined at his house, and shot his covers.

Major Rochfort, for his part, stood transfixed, glaring at the intruder, as if he could not credit the evidence of his senses!