"We believe that he is alive," added the firm, "and if you continue to press, and harass him, he may possibly close on the park and house,—which are legally his property. The outlay on repairs, which is to be met by your mother's fortune, is, as we advised at the time, a serious and costly mistake. The alterations proceed very slowly, and it will be six months before the workmen are out.
"We remain, dear Sir,
Yours faithfully,
Scriven, Swan and Co."
This letter was in his pocket, its contents in his head, as Mallender in a crazy old tonga was being jolted over a country, hopelessly empty, monotonous and level. Late in the afternoon as he approached Wellunga, gradually there came into view the gaunt outline of ruined barracks and bungalows, thrown into sharp relief by a splendid sunset. The general effect was such a flaming blaze of red and gold, that it looked as if molten fire were endeavouring to burn up the river, and a great straggling bazaar, which lay between the cantonment and the water—probably the cause of the cholera, which had twice emptied the station.
The whole place was set in sterile surroundings of brick-coloured soil, rocks, and scrubby jungle, presenting a depressing appearance of forlornness and solitude.
Approaching their journey's end, the wayfarers were rattled past the remains of a once imposing, but now roofless mess-house; the bare rafters of its verandahs stuck out on all sides like rows of grinning teeth. Near by, stood at intervals, various dilapidated dwellings surrounded by jungle, from which emerged here and there, a sturdy mango, a pomegranate tree, or even a half-strangled acacia,—the hardy survivors of a garden. One of these old bungalows, rescued from the hand of Time, proved to be the official Rest House, here the tonga and its smoking ponies came to a halt, and the stranger was welcomed by a cheery old man, wearing a clean white turban and a faded red tunic,—once the property of some regimental officer.
His reception was so effusive, that it was evident guests were an agreeable novelty. The venerable butler bustled about, and presently the new arrival was experiencing the benefits of a hot bath, and an appetising meal.
Subsequently, when he strolled into the little verandah to smoke, he found that the moon had risen, and by its cold white light he surveyed Wellunga; noticed the solid masonry of the dead cantonment, its air of utter isolation and desolation, made still more evident by the pitiless full-faced moon. The young man was impressed by the remarkable coincidence that once more his search had brought him amidst ruins, and solitude; but naturally people who abandon the world, take refuge in the waste places of the earth.
"No one living here?" he enquired, addressing the hovering attendant,—who had been a sepoy of the 15th Madras Native Infantry, and was inclined to be communicative.
"No, saar, only some half-castes, and road officials. Once long ago, this plenty big place, many soldiers in barrack, then cholera coming, and all the houses empty, and tumble-down. One officer only here still."
"Who is he?"