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."