Chapter XXXI

"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.