"Why, easily enough. He explained as much to Mrs. Carson when she asked him why he had that everlasting smell about him. So you intend taking the box over yourself, do you? You are indeed a good friend, Major."
The Major was not appreciative of his position; but he replied bluffly enough, "Goin' for m' own sake. Carson owes me money. Not likely to see it unless I go m'self. Carson's a bit of a rogue, you know."
"Are you sure he isn't somewhat more than 'a bit,' Major? Are you quite sure he is Angus Carson?"
"Course I am; who else would he be?" said Semberry, with an admixture of indignation and ignorance in equal parts.
"Oh, don't ask me," replied Mallow, carelessly. "Only it was strange, was it not, that Mrs. Purcell should say the picture taken at Sandbeach did not represent her friend, Mr. Carson of Bombay?"
"Bad likeness, perhaps," growled Semberry. He was really uneasy now.
"On the contrary, it is a very good one--of the man who married Miss Bellairs."
"Angus Carson."
"If you like to call him so."
Semberry jumped up with a scowl.