"Oh, he'll be all right. I fancy he got a bit hipped, living all alone. I leave you to tackle him, Fan; this sort of job is your speciality. Keep the boy incessantly occupied and entertained, and, whatever you do, my dear girl, don't let him slip through your fingers!"
And with this emphatic injunction Colonel Tallboys waved a valedictory hand, and disappeared.
CHAPTER V
Surrounded by a group to whom Byng had introduced him, Mallender was enjoying himself thoroughly, listening and talking to keen young men of the same upbringing and service—his contemporaries.
Six months at Mallender had undoubtedly depressed his spirits. After the death of his father, lawyers, surveyors, and contractors were his sole associates; for of late years the Court had fallen into oblivion; old friends had died or removed to other neighbourhoods, and a new generation arisen which knew not the heir. It was out of the question to invite guests to his shabby dilapidated home, where the water streamed through the roof, and there was no shooting. This unexpected change to a bright glimpse of his former life, proved inexpressibly welcome to Geoffrey: here were men well known to him by name, and actually an old school-fellow, who was quartered in the Fort. As they sat smoking, and discussing shop, racing, polo, and mutual friends, in such congenial atmosphere, the new-comer had for the moment completely lost sight of what he mentally called "his job." Colonel Tallboys, when he arrived, instantly grasped the situation. Here was Geoffrey full of animation and enthusiasm, debating and criticising the entries for Punchestown. This was as it should be—the lure was already working!
To tell the truth, although Mallender had spent five happy hours within the Club, these hours had passed so rapidly, that it seemed incredible when his cousin announced that "it was after six o'clock, and time to make a start."
The transformation of the outward scene appeared equally surprising. The wind had died away, the breakers merely sobbed softly on the beach; a clear Eastern night was full of stars, and the light of electric lamps penetrated into every corner. Numbers of motors were parked in the vast compound; in some sat various gay and smart ladies, sipping iced drinks, eating devilled biscuits, and holding informal meetings with their men friends. Now and then a car would slip out of the crowd, and take the Mem Sahib and her cavalier for a turn up the Guindy Road, or along the marine front,—whilst the lady's husband was finishing an interminable rubber of auction bridge. It had been one o'clock when Mallender left the Fort—at an hour when all Madras was under the spell of noonday quiet; servants were "eating rice," animals resting, the very crows and hawks temporarily suppressed—but now the city was awake; the Gorah bazaar, and Georgetown, were humming like bee-hives, heavily-laden trams, crammed with passengers, clanged and rumbled up and down the Mount Road, the old established "Europe" shops, such as Orr's, Spencer's, and Oak's, were brilliantly alight and filled with customers; motors and bicycles skimmed hither and thither—luxurious carriages drawn by steppers rolled by, whilst picturesque foot-passengers, Jutkas, and leisurely bullock-carts gave a touch of local colour to the scene.
Such was the traffic, that it was a considerable time before Colonel Tallboys' Napier could extricate itself and thread its smooth way by Royàpetta towards Egmore. As the car turned sharply through an entrance gate and up the long drive to Hooper's Gardens, Mallender was both impressed and surprised. Here was no mere bungalow, but the lofty stately dwelling of a one-time merchant prince—reared in an age when space, and rupees, were amply available.
"Hooper's Gardens" stood surrounded by fifty acres of short, coarse grass, a white, two-storied mansion with pillared verandahs, a flat roof, and imposing portico. Against a dense background of palms and shrubberies were pitched a group of tents.