"You see, sir, it's like this," began the man, putting his head to one side. "I couldn't help hearing your talk through the door. You and the master both havin' a kind of carryin' voice--not as I heard all your talk--but you want to know who your father is? Well, I can let you into thatt secret," he added, with a nod and a wink. "And pray what do you know about it?" asked Rayner coldly. "How can I believe a word that you say when you stand a convicted eavesdropper?" "Oh, sir, don't say thatt," said the young man, glancing furtively round, his hands clinging to the window of the gharry. "But, look here, sir, if you'll trust me I'll give you his name and proof positive into the bargain. Can't do it now, I see a fellow from Truelove's comin' along, and suspicion might be raised if you and me is caught hobnobbin'. They're terrible strict at our place." "Well, where can we meet?" asked Rayner, seeing the difficulty of prolonging the present interview. "I'm a stranger to the town. I could come to your house this evening if you give me your address--that is to say if you've got anything worth telling me." "Oh, sir, my house is too humble for a grand gent like you to come to," returned the clerk, shaking his head. "Where then, quick, don't you humbug me a moment longer. Drive on, gharry-wallah," he shouted to the coachman, "I'm sick of this nonsense." "One moment," pleaded the other, making a sign to the driver, and putting his head in at the window of the gharry. "What price if I tell you the secret and prove it?" "A ten rupee note will be ample payment," returned Rayner. "A ten-rupee note," echoed the clerk, withdrawing his head, then he thrust it in again. "Look here, sir, if you'll meet me at the Shrine of Kali at seven o'clock to-night--any gharry-wallah will drive you to that place, it ain't more than a mile off--I'll tell you what you want to know and prove it, but not for one pie less than one hundred rupees. I don't sell Truelove's best secret for naught," he added, with a cunning leer. "All right, I'll consider," said Rayner. The gharry-wallah waved his whip and began to thread his way along the crowded thoroughfare. CHAPTER XXVI. On the same day as Alfred Rayner made his call on Truelove Brothers, Mrs. Fellowes, with Hester seated by her side, was driving in her little victoria towards Vepery. They had made a slight _détour_ by the lines of the Native Infantry, which was some distance from the residential quarter, and had now left behind the quiet corner with the officers' bungalows and reached the First Line Beach. "I always like this bit," remarked Mrs. Fellowes. "Somehow it reminds me of one of the quays of Newcastle where I used to visit a dear friend when I was a girl. I suppose all busy seaport places have a family likeness. This suggests to me one of the vanished haunts of my girlhood, and has always made this First Line Beach pleasant to me."