"But you could do the same as out here, take another name?" urged Geoffrey the persistent.
"Always optimistic, and full of schemes, I see! No, no, the Nawab will bide in Madras."
Then rising from his place he came nearer, a strange but not horrifying object, with false nose and beard, the eyeballs looking out from the black-rimmed glasses wore a soft expression as he said:
"You must make it up with Fred, tell him, you've carried out your project and seen me, are reinstated, and sole owner of Mallender,—park, property, house, and its contents down to the very teaspoons!"
"But listen to me, Uncle Geoffrey. I really cannot take it all like that, in your lifetime."
"You can, in short, there's no help for it. Mallender is yours now, as much as the coat on your back."
The new owner of Mallender was about to expostulate, but his Uncle held up his hand.
"To let you into a secret, Geoffrey—I am proud of you!"
"It's awfully good of you to say so, Uncle, but although I meant well, I've been more or less, of a pig-headed idiot."
"As for that, I happen to know, how you came to the rescue of that unfortunate girl, Miss Sim; packed her off home, and paid her passage. It was you, who faced Rochfort's wife, stifled a terrible scandal, and made peace. Finally, I'm told that you saved the life of old Beamish's daughter, and nearly lost your own. Now for each of these deeds, I give you a good mark."