At this painful announcement Geoffrey coloured up to his crisp brown hair.
"Come now," he continued, "put it before yourself impartially. What would you think of a fellow coming to India to hunt for a lost relative, when he had been expressly warned that if he made a search he would lose four thousand a year?"
"Yes, I admit that it sounds fairly mad; so I'll keep all particulars dark; but mad or not, nothing shall stop me—or choke me off!" declared Mallender with vehement sincerity.
"All right, all right, meanwhile we will give out that you are interested in coffee in Mysore, or gold mines—yes, that is best—it's more vague," added Colonel Tallboys, with a grin. "And now, the first thing to do is to find you a first-class boy."
"Boy?"
"A servant—a full-grown man; anything up to eighty years of age is a boy here. I know of one, Anthony, he speaks Telagu, Canarese, Tamil, English, and at a pinch French! He will cook for you, valet you, wait on you, and generally run you, and do for you—he is just out of a place—his master went home last mail."
"But I only want a smart, honest chap that can rough it a bit," protested the new-comer.
"Oh, Anthony has often been in camp, and on shooting trips; he is a capital servant. My bearer will get hold of him at once, and now I'll 'phone for the car, and take you to the Club for tiffin—there you shall taste for the first time in your life the real, true, and only prawn curry."
CHAPTER III