‘What money?’ blustered Iyan.
‘That which you have in your waist-cloth.’
‘I have had a debt repaid,’ growled Iyan after a short pause.
‘What debt?’ persisted Valan. ‘I did not know any one owed you anything.’
Iyan grunted angrily, but made no answer.
‘Where were you the day before yesterday, when the múdliya was murdered?’ continued Valan in a stern, grave tone and looking keenly at his brother.—‘And why,’ he continued, when he received no answer, ‘did you change your cloth when you came home that night, and wash the one you had been wearing? And why, too, did you——?’
‘Mind your own business!’ interrupted Iyan fiercely, as he got up and walked out. ‘You had better not spy on me, Valan Elúvan, or I will make you repent it!’
For some minutes after his brother had gone, Valan sat looking thoughtfully out of the door, evidently turning something over in his mind; then he got up and carefully searched the hut, examining with great care a cloth he found in a corner. He appeared not to be satisfied with what he saw, for he shook his head, and muttered two or three times to himself in a tone of sorrow and misgiving.
The whole of that day the púsári wandered restlessly about, spending most of the time, however, in and about his own house. By noon, his relatives had quite settled down in his house. It was clear they had no expectation of his ever returning, and had, therefore, constituted themselves his heirs. They did not treat Vallee with cruelty or harshness, but simply ignored her, or treated her as if she was dependent on them. Early in the afternoon, the young headman whom the púsári had seen at Mánkúlam the previous day, came to the village armed with a warrant. He was accompanied by several men, who searched his house carefully, but of course found nothing to incriminate him. They seized, however, the púsári’s gun and two or three jungle-knives that were in the house. Vallee’s distress and indignation at the action of the headman and his satellites was great; but she restrained herself, and made no protest or remark of any kind. The púsári learned from the conversation of these unwelcome visitors that men had been sent to all the neighbouring villages in search of him.
Night at length came on. The púsári hung about the village till every one had retired to rest. Suddenly the idea occurred to him to go in search of the pisási village in the haunted jungle. He started off at once, and before long found himself in a part of the jungle which he knew could not be very far from the scene of his dreadful night’s adventure. But though he wandered about all night and climbed two or three trees, in the hope of seeing the glare of the magic fires, he found nothing. Though he knew himself to be invisible, and therefore perfectly safe, he could not overcome the sensation of fear when he heard the fierce cries of wild beasts in the dark, lonely forest. He listened anxiously to the crashing and trumpeting of a herd of elephants in the jungle near him, and to the grating roar of a leopard seeking its prey. He fairly fled when he heard the whimpering of a couple of bears coming along the path towards him. When the morning broke, he returned to the village.