Chapter XXIII

The following morning, as soon as General Beamish had returned from his drive, he despatched a messenger to summon his new acquaintance; who on this occasion was received in the drawing-room--a curious apartment! The walls coloured a sickly pink, were decorated with horns and heads, fine damascened arms, various spotty sporting prints, and many faded photographs in shabby Oxford frames. After a little desultory talk, the venerable officer fixing his steely blue eyes on the visitor, said:

"Young man, you gave me a deal of information yesterday, but begad, you never told me _what_ has brought you to Wellunga?"

"Oh, that is too long a story, sir, and would only bore you to death."

"Bore away, and fire away! I really want to hear it!"

Mallender, who was now disinclined to disclose his mission, began the recital with obvious reluctance, and made it as brief as possible, whilst the old man, with a hand to his ear, listened eagerly to the outline of his many failures; when he concluded, he said:

"I remember meeting your Uncle in the Ooty Club, and hearing him say how he hated India! I suppose it has stuck in my gizzard, because I felt vexed--you see I always loved the country, and I can sympathise with the old Mem Sahib, who hankered after 'the whiff of a huka, and the smell of a bazaar.' I took to the East from the moment I put a foot in it, and felt the sun on my back, and saw the palms, and the Arab horses--it was all Arabs in my time! It's funny, how clearly I recall things of fifty years ago, yet cannot for the life of me tell you what happened last week," he concluded, with a hopeless sigh.

"Then you remember my Uncle's disappearance?"

"Why, of course. I read all about it in the papers."

"Has it ever occurred to you that he might still be alive?"

"Well, no--but after all, why not? The fellow may have had his own reasons for hiding."

"What possible reason could he have? He had heaps of money, and as you say, detested India; why remain for thirty years hiding his identity in exile?"

"Oh, for that matter," rejoined the General, and he gave a little cackling laugh, "I'm in exile, I'm hiding too,--and I've managed pretty cleverly; I've another family in England. I'm hiding from _them_!"

Mallender murmured his assent.

"Yes, I suppose Tom has told you! Well, now you have no idea of your Uncle's reasons for concealing himself, and you shall hear _mine_, I'll tell you my history, for you have an honest, upright look," and he stared into the tanned, high-bred face of his visitor.

"There are the cheroots, help yourself, and listen to me."

As Mallender selected a Trichy, he said to himself:

"This old gentleman much prefers talking about his own past, to discussing my present. How is it that people are always telling me their affairs, and mine get no forrader?" and he resigned himself accordingly.

"I came out young," began the General, after clearing his throat. "I married young; my Colonel's daughter, a girl of eighteen, but within a year she died of cholera. It nearly broke my heart. Think of it! All I had, taken from me within twelve hours. As I had been out some time, I took furlough, and went home, feeling as if I could never hold up my head again; but kind friends roused me, and made much of me, and by degrees I went out among people. After a bit I came across a very pretty,--I may say, amazingly beautiful girl, full of animation and gaiety. Her liveliness appealed to me, and raised my spirits; she was of old family, but hadn't a penny of fortune. Well, sir, we married, and came out here. Living was half what it is now--or less; eighty seers of gram to the rupee--think of that! I had good pay, and we set up in style with a carriage and pair, and gave dinners. My first home was on a modest scale, but admirably managed; here, there was no management at all! only dirty, idle, thievish servants, and enormous bills. However, my wife was always the belle of the station, and in extraordinary request for balls, theatricals, and picnics. Then came the children--three of them, hard on one another's heels, and Julia decided to take them home. I was not sorry to be rid of her! Hoping to get a chance to economise, and save. Every month, I remitted money, but it was never enough; and my wife was so restless; if she was six months at home, she longed to come back to India, and if she came out--in six weeks' time she was dying for London! Sir," suddenly sitting erect, "her extravagance was incredible! I've known Julia to have three furnished houses on hand; if she tired of one, she took another; she had maids, and governesses, and a carriage; no doubt people supposed I was a very rich man, instead of a miserable poor devil, with little beside his pay. I tell you, my boy, I dreaded her letters and enclosures so much, that sometimes I've left them unopened for _days_--they took the heart out of me," and his old voice broke, and quavered.

"If this distresses you, sir, I beg you won't go on," urged his listener.

"No, no," he protested peevishly, "let me finish! Then came a grand smash, and Julia fled out here in order to escape her creditors. As I was responsible, I had to borrow, and raise money at a ruinous interest, and settle most of her debts--but I was in the money-lenders' clutches for life. She returned home, cleared--whilst I was bound hand and foot; you see, part of my pay was sequestrated, and I was chained to the country! And after twenty years in the East, without a break, I got out of English ways, and lost sight of my old friends."

"And what about your children, sir?"

"Oh, they were educated regardless of expense, and thanks to Julia's fine connections well started in the world; but I never saw them; no, not since they were with their ayah, and I put them aboard a mail steamer in Madras Roads, when the eldest was only four. Meanwhile, I was up to my neck in debt, and although commanding a regiment, worse off than a junior subaltern. I was positively ashamed of my uniform, my chargers, and my stinginess--but what could I do? Tell me that?"

"Er--well, nothing, I suppose," murmured the young man.

"No, I was too deep in the soucars' books, ever to get my head above water; socially I was dead, with a stone round my neck. Well, my boys got professions, the girl married well. Then my wife died; we had not met for years, but she wrote to me regularly every mail, and sent me newspapers.--I had thoughts of going home."

"And so you went at last?"

"No, though I had retired, and got my pension; an old comrade persuaded me to join him in the Hills, and something else held me back--it was India herself. Twice I took my passage, and twice I changed my mind--eventually I lived with my friend till he died. He left me all he had; plate, books, and a large fortune--the result of loot, and good investments--besides this, I have twelve hundred a year pension, and savings, and am at this moment a wealthy man. You'd never suspect it, would you?" and he waved his withered hand at the ugly pink walls, old black furniture, and threadbare Bangalore carpet.

"No, sir, I must say I would not."

"No, I'm like a native chap, who may live in a sort of open cupboard in the bazaar, and yet own lakhs of rupees. The tidings of my riches soon reached my family, and they bombarded me with letters and cables, and were desperately anxious to get the old man home! They were afraid he might fall under an undesirable influence, or do something foolish; but my pal forbid me ever to let them have a penny of his money; he used to say 'Your family only know you by your signature on a cheque, you've done your share, educated them, put them out in the world and they are strangers.'"

"And so you married again!"

"Yes, yes, yes," was the irritable response. "Don't you hurry me--don't you hurry me! I'm too old for that! I did the _foolish_ thing my sons dreaded, and married a woman who had nursed my friend, Tom Maitland. After three or four years, the Hills became too smart and fashionable for a retired old Indian, who had married a nurse--my lady neighbours would not know Mrs. Beamish, and the young generation of soldiers had never heard of _me_. My family plagued me incessantly, and more than once hinted at the effects of a climate on my brain. After all, I was only seventy, and stout and hale, still well able for a day's shooting in the sholahs, or hunting on the downs; so I just disappeared down the Seegoor Ghat, taking all my goods and chattels, and leaving no address. You can cover up tracks when you like,--it is only a question of _money_."

"You mean bribes?"

"I mean just money. Your Uncle was rich, and thanks to that, he has hidden himself successfully."

"Then you really think he _is_ hidden?" asked Mallender, eagerly.

"Not a doubt of it, and if you will take the advice of an old man, you will waste no more time on searching for a will-o'-the-wisp, but just go home quietly."

"Oh--do you advise that!"

"Yes; though I funked going home myself! but that was different, I had spent the best of my life out here, and the country would not release me. You may think me a queer sort of lunatic, but my case is not uncommon; quite a number of old retired officers, and officials, remain in India after their work is done; they are out of touch with England, and life is easier here. You find them in the Doon, and in parts of the Himalayas, in the Neilgherries, the Shevaroys, and not men alone,--but women too."

"Women?" repeated Mallender, and his tone was incredulous.

"Yes, forty years ago in Bangalore, there was an old lady, the widow of the Colonel of a Madras regiment. I remember her well; she accompanied the 86th M.N.I. in all their moves. She used to ride a venerable white charger, and wear a mushroom hat with rosettes over her ears, and come up on the _maidan_ soon after sunrise, and before the crowd appeared. I've seen her of an evening, driving her little ponies shopping, or at the band,--when it was _her_ band. She never mixed in Society, but went to church, and to field days when her regiment was out. She spent most of her pension on the lines, and the men adored her, and called her their mother; the regiment was her home. Her people, like mine, were scandalized; but, after all, why should not everyone lead the life they prefer--if they do no harm to their fellows? And now about this puzzle, your Uncle--a life here was obviously not one that he preferred, the country had no hold on him, no,--yet he is here. Brown and Co. are not a firm to make foolish mistakes. My advice to you is, to go home, where time, friends, and fortune are all before you."

"Not fortune," protested Geoffrey. "I forfeited that when I undertook this enterprise, but then I was sure that I was dealing with an impostor."

"And would not listen to Brown and Co.,--that, I may tell you, was foolish."

"No, neither to them, or anyone."

"Ah, but you will listen to your past experience, and to _me_," and the weary old figure leant abruptly forward in its chair.

"I can't bear to be beaten, sir, but what do you advise?"

"As I've said--arrange for your return. In the meantime, make your head-quarters here; there is a good horse for you, Tom and Tara will take you out, and show you the country, and of an evening come and sit and talk to me--give me a week or two--as a great favour to an old fellow, who has not spoken to another red coat for thirty years."

Mallender hesitated a moment, then he said, "You are very kind, sir."

"Not a bit of it--only kind to myself. There is a new brown, stud-bred, up from Ussour, that will carry you well. This is an historical part of the world, although it looks so tame now--the children know every inch of it for miles. Tell me, are you interested in Indian history?"

"I can't say I am, sir, I know very little about it. Clive--Plassy--Warren Hastings--that's all."

"I was the same myself, till I was tied here by the leg, and had to take to books. I've read a lot--especially of those dealing with this country--its history begins with the invasion of Alexander, nearly three hundred years before Christ, then came the Moghul Empire, and the Cholas, they _all_ made their way into these parts."

"Not much sign of them now, is there?"

"No, and I dare say there won't be much sign of _us_ after a couple of thousand years. We shall leave no great monuments, temples and fortresses, such as still recall ancient Hindustan."

And then, with surprising animation, he suddenly poured forth a brief description of campaigns, marches, victories, and defeats.

"Think," he cried, "of a desperate siege that lasted ten years--think of the loot and treasure. Why, when Bednur fell, they took twenty millions in gold--gold worth a thousand times more then than now, not to speak of jewels, elephants and slaves." Coming to later days, he spoke of "Haidir Ali," Lally, and Tippoo.

"Haidir was an adventurer--a nobody--but a brave man. His son Tippoo, was just a mad fanatic. For close on two hundred years battles and struggles have swept across these plains. Please God, we have seen the last of them! Well, well, well, I'm a doddering old fellow, and I'm boring you; but you must ride about the country, with Tara and Tom, and see it for yourself! Ah!" as his visitor stood up, "you are not off yet! Before you go, let me show you my Europe family--give me that sandal-wood box from the whatnot."

When this was placed in his hands, he opened it, and turned over its contents with tremulous deliberation.

"Here," exhibiting a stout elderly man in uniform, "is my son Arnold; he married money. This is my daughter Agatha, in court train. She is the Honble. Mrs. Dashell. This is my lawyer son, who threatens me with the Lunacy Commissioners," exhibiting a man with a clever hard face, and a sunken determined mouth. "All capital photos, you see, sent to _tempt_ the old fellow home! If anything could tempt me, it would be this," and after a little fumbling, he placed a striking vignette of Mrs. Villars in the hand of his amazed companion. "Here is my grand-daughter, Lena."

"Mrs. Villars!--why, I know her!" exclaimed Mallender. "Is _she_ your grand-daughter? She was staying in Madras, with my cousins the Tallboys."

"So she said; she writes distracted letters asking for money, they all ask for that; one to send a boy to Eton, another to settle a son on a ranche, a third to pay bills; but of the whole pack, Lena is the most hungry and shameless. You see, I get their letters forwarded through my agent. They amuse me,--and they tell on one another. Lena is a beauty. Eh?"

"Yes, and this does not flatter her in the least."

"Lena is like her grandmother, but handsomer, and has the same mad craze for spending. She married a man, a good fellow too, I was told, and ruined him with her extravagance. They say Lena is one of those who must have luxuries,--no matter who goes without; and four years ago, poor Villars put an end to himself, and his troubles, with an overdose of chloral. She writes to me now for a couple of thousand to pay some debts, as she is at her wits' end. Begad, I believe she really came out here to poke about and find _me_!" the idea tickled the old gentleman, and he gave a shrill cackling laugh, "and got as far as Madras, where she has spent the winter with an old school-fellow."

"Yes, with my cousin Fanny Tallboys, but surely they were not school-fellows--it is impossible, why, Fanny is forty-two!"

"Oh, Lena is getting on; Lena is no chicken!" declared her grandfather, "though I dare say she looks years younger than her age. She writes begging letters, and implores me to assist her, as she is likely to make a brilliant marriage. Heaven help the unfortunate beggar!--for a beggar he will _be_."

"She does not mention his name, I suppose?"

"No, but I presume he is rich; his money will run through her hands like water. Mrs. Beamish is dead set against my pretty grand-daughter--she cannot bear her, and wanted to burn the photograph. I believe she is afraid Lena may turn up here, and get round _me_. Ha! ha! ha! If Lena only knew what _I_ do, about a certain treasure!"

"You mean a hidden one?"

"Yes, India is full of such hoards, especially before the days of banks. The inherited habit of accumulating and hiding gold and jewels, is in the blood. A native whose life I saved, a cultivator and poor, told me the secret of a great cache, he said he could not meddle with it himself--an old man with no sons, he would be robbed, and murdered. Buried within twenty miles of where you and I are sitting, is a mass of gold and jewels, silver horse trappings, and arms. Well! well! the world is rich enough. Money is the root of all evil!"

"But some of the world is poor enough--desperately poor," protested Mallender. "Think of what all this wealth, lying useless and unclaimed, would do."

"Some would do good; more would stick to greedy palms. I do give a help at home, and out here--dispensaries, and wells, and things. No, no, I'll not touch the great spoil, I've enough to leave my family in comfort. If Lena got her claws into this treasure, she'd squander even it, in ten years. I may tell you that this horde was hidden away in the troubled times of the eighteenth century. I suppose you know that Tippoo's pearls were never discovered?"

"No! Well, I wish _I_ could find them!"

"Oh, you are no good at finding!" scoffed the old man. "You can't even find your own Uncle."

"Now, Richard, you have talked too much," interposed Mrs. Beamish, who had entered in her noiseless slippers. "Your voice is as weak as a thread, come away: Captain Mallender will give you a pull up--it's _long_ past the time for your midday sleep, and you've never touched your bread and milk, you bad old man!"