He received me very kindly and after a little talk, I said, “M. Le Maistre, I rather like you and think I can trust you.”
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” he replied.
I went on. “You know what I am in search of?”
“Your father,” he said with a smile.
I answered, “Something of that kind, perhaps. I went to see Mr. Smith. He was very angry, and dared me to prove that he was my father. I don’t care a fig about him as a man, or as a father, but I won’t be dared. I am to prove this thing, if it is possible, if it takes me the rest of my life. Can you help me?”
“We’ll see,” he answered. “Let us go over to the muhalla.” He was full of talk about everything. I think he would have gone to Jericho with me, if I had only agreed to listen to him.
A little incident occurred which I must relate, as I remember it so well. As we were going through his compound, I bounded up with a scream at the sight of a cobra rising in front of me. I think if Eve had hated snakes as I do, she would never have listened to that serpent. M. Le Maistre went to the cobra, took it in his hand and let it crawl up his sleeve. I stood aghast in astonishment. When I recovered my breath, I asked, “Are you not afraid?”
“Afraid!” said he. “Why should I be afraid? I never harmed a snake in my life and they never harm me.” Then he pulled the hideous thing out, placed it on the ground, and patted its neck with his hand, and we went on. The chills were still racing up and down my back, but with his lively stories I soon recovered.
Reaching the muhalla he began talking with the people, especially an old man, with whom he was well acquainted. M. Le Maistre told him, that he wanted to find out something about Smith Sahib’s woman who had lived in the two upper rooms, years ago. The old man after thinking, said that there was the son of a money-lender, not far away, whose father had done business for the woman, cashed notes for her or something, he did not know just what, and he might tell us something. So on we went and found the son. He at once said that he had lately been looking over some old papers of his father’s and had found some, hidden in an earthen jar, and among them a package. This might be what we wanted. He quickly brought it. There were some letters in English, turning yellow, yet very legible, but not one of them signed. Better than all these was a photograph of an English Sahib! The very thing! I recognized it at once. The fright I had received on that fearful night, when I had got the first and only sight of that monster man was so impressed on my mind that I remembered him as if I had seen him that very day. I fairly leaped for joy and M. Le Maistre chuckled at our success. That wonderful little package, so carefully done up, the treasure of my darling mama, and what was it not to me?
M. Le Maistre, with all his wits in hand, said: “Yet he may deny all these letters, for there is not a name anywhere! He was a shrewd one. But as it is a long lane that has no turn, we’ll see.” Away we went, I with the packet fast in my pocket, as happy as if I had got a deed of possession to a new world.