(Mallender had now been promoted to the house). Then in a few short sentences he disclosed his plans. As the particulars were gradually unfolded, Anthony's attitude and expression changed; his eyes dilated, as for his mouth, it was wide open, and from its action, appeared to be swallowing whole sentences, with unctuous avidity.
"So now you know," concluded Mallender, as tie in hand, he turned to the glass.
"Saar, saar," stuttered a choking voice, "I hearing all this tale, when I was small chokra—true I telling. My Uncle Fernandez, now very old, no teeth, no belly, was thirty years ago head waiter in Cavalry Mess, Bangalore, and that business making much talk, when two officers come back from shoot, all 'Tulla Bulla,' and the other Captain nowhere! Regiment all upside down, great bobbery making, and plenty sorry, because there was nothing—no funeral—no corpse body!"
"That missing officer was my Uncle," announced his master, "and I've come to India to find out what became of him; and by and by I shall start as a man who travels round, looking for employment."
"I beg your pardon, saar! Employment, a situation, you, saar!" Anthony gasped out these words, and then stood breathless. From the style of Mallender's belongings, clothes, and kit, he had formed a high estimate of his status in life. Here was no poor Captain, with a mere two hundred and sixteen rupees four annas a month, but a master who wore the best silk underclothing, and socks, had dozens of shirts, a silver mounted suit-case, and gave presents to ladies that cost hundreds of rupees; in fact, he had been making up his mind to ask for a rise of wages, and this projected playing at poverty descended like a thunderbolt.
"I shall travel about as a photographer," resumed Mallender, as he pulled on his coat, "and take groups and families, in out-of-the-way places, and you shall accompany me as my assistant and carry the camera."
This was not an alluring prospect. Anthony was naturally gregarious, he liked the society of smart fellow-servants, he enjoyed bragging, and cock-fighting, listening to piquant news, playing cards, and smoking good cigars. Nevertheless, the prospect of a manhunt was exciting; yes, he would gladly take part in that.
"You can get me some cheap bazaar suits in kharki and drill," continued his master, "like what clerks wear; and a big common pith hat, and lots of soap and insect powder, and some towels. All my Europe kit, portmanteau, and guns, I'll leave behind me."
"I beg your pardon, saar, that bad sense. Better take one gun, plenty budmash up-country."
"Oh, a revolver will do. We must travel light."