"So far she has no suspicions?" enquired Mallender.
"I'm not sure. I hope not. I write regularly from the Renapilly estate, a fellow there, that I can trust, posts my letters every mail."
"Do you know, I now remember, when I spent a couple of nights at your place, Mrs. Rochfort asked me a lot of questions about India, and especially about Madras; I could not tell her much, nor anything of coffee estates, or if they were almost inaccessible. She enquired the easiest way of reaching those in the Hills. I said I supposed on horseback, or in a chair, carried by coolies."
"Then, my dear fellow, let me tell you, that unintentionally you did me a very bad turn," said Rochfort, as he carefully cut the end of a cigar—"what else?"
"She asked me the length of the voyage, and for details respecting insects and snakes."
"Oh, she knows all about snakes, and scorpions! I rubbed them in extra well. No, I don't really believe that Sophy will ever get further east than Egypt—she funks the Red Sea, and cobras. I say! I suppose you know the Smiths have taken to you uncommonly; it's good for the boys to meet another Englishman, and I see you've knocked some sound ideas into their heads. As for Mota, you'll be interested to hear, that she has decided to marry you!"
"Well, perhaps I may wait for her! By the way, they are waiting for us to play badminton in the big room. Shall we adjourn?"
The weather was warming up, tanks were nearly dry, the grass withered, and the ground hard as a brick,—consequently there was no shooting.
Now and then of a late afternoon Major Rochfort motored his friend into Madras. He had purchased the motor out of some race winnings, chiefly for the use of the boys going to and fro to college. As most of the community were in the Hills, or had gone home, or to Australia, no one recognised Mallender. He and his host went down to the Marina to catch a breath of the sea breeze, or to the band at the Luz, or to look on at tennis in the grounds behind the Chepauk Palace. Occasionally they took a turn in the shops. In one, Mallender was not a little startled to recognise, ticketed "a bargain," the very gold bag he had presented to Mrs. Villars. Could there be a mistake? Had it been stolen? he asked permission to examine it. Yes, it was the same, there were her initials faintly scratched by his own penknife.
"How did you come by this?" he enquired of the shop assistant, and the shop assistant on his dignity, loftily replied: