Mark Jervis had gone straight to the agents, Bostock & Bell’s, the day he had landed in Bombay, and asked for his father’s address. He only obtained it with difficulty and after considerable delay. The head of the firm, in a private interview, earnestly entreated him to keep the secret, otherwise they would get into trouble, as Major Jervis was a peculiar man and most mysterious about his affairs, which were now entirely managed by a Mr. Cardozo. Major Jervis had not corresponded with them personally, for years. He then scribbled something on a card, which he handed to the new arrival, who eagerly read, “Mr. Jones, Hawal-Ghât, via Shirani, N.W.P.” The major’s son despatched a letter with this superscription by the very next post.
CHAPTER XI.
A RESERVED LADY.
A hot moonless night towards the end of March, and the up-mail from Bombay to Calcutta has come to a standstill. The glare from the furnace and the carriage lamps lights up the ghostly looking telegraph-posts, the dusty cactus hedge, and illuminates a small portion of the surrounding jungle. Anxiously gazing eyes see no sign of a station, or even of a signalman’s hut, within the immediate glare—and beyond it there looms a rocky, barren tract, chiefly swallowed up in inscrutable darkness.
There is a babel of men’s voices, shrill and emotional, and not emanating from European throats, a running of many feet, and above all is heard the snorting of the engine and the dismal shrieks of the steam whistle.
“What does it all mean?” inquired a silvery treble, and a fluffy head leant out of a first-class ladies’ compartment.
“Nothing to be alarmed about,” responded a pleasant tenor voice from the permanent way. “There has been a collision between two goods trains about a mile ahead, and the line is blocked.”
“Any one killed?” she drawled.
“Only a couple of niggers,” rejoined the pleasant voice, in a cheerful key.
“Dear me!” exclaimed the lady with sudden animation; “why, Captain Waring, surely it cannot be you!”
“Pray why not?” now climbing up on the foot-board. “And do I behold Mrs. Bellett?” as the head and shoulders of a good-looking man appeared at the window, and looked into the carriage, which contained a mountain of luggage, two ladies, a monkey, and a small green parrot.