"I'll swear my Uncle wasn't that sort," protested Mallender. "He was a sportsman, and as hard as nails; a soft sleepy existence among divans and hukas, would never appeal to him. I am absolutely convinced, that he was decoyed out of his tent, and murdered; and as I've already told you, I do not intend to return home, till I have unravelled the mystery, and run the impostor to ground--to this I stick!" and once more he thumped his umbrella, and disturbed the dust of weeks. "Then in that case, I'm afraid you will make a lifelong stay in India," rejoined Mr. Parr--smiling as one smiles at the absurd pretensions of a child. "Perhaps so," assented the young man shortly; "I intend to see this affair through--and my time is now my own. I conclude that you feel bound not to assist me, or give me the name of the town where the letters are posted?" "Oh, no objection, Captain Mallender, no objection whatever," Mr. Fleming responded with effusion; "the letters are posted in different places all over the country, within, say, a radius of four hundred miles. For instance, we may receive one communication from Georgetown here in Madras, the next from Bangalore, from an obscure post office in the hills, or a remote village in the plains. Let me think: the last was from a railway station called Erode--so you see, my dear sir, that your Uncle's movements are erratic, and his address is vague. Accept a piece of absolutely disinterested advice," and here the speaker tendered a soft, empty hand. "You will do no good out here, you will only waste time and money, without results. Give up the quest, and return home!" "No," and Mallender's eyes flashed. "What you say more than ever convinces me that the man who writes to you is a criminal, who goes in abject fear of his life, and is hiding from justice." "Oh, very well, Captain Mallender, _very_ well!" gobbled Mr. Fleming, and his tone was throaty and offended, "there is no more to be said--it is not our business to argue; we merely state facts. You say, you have no doubt that your relative is dead. You may also rest assured, that from the day it is made known to our client that you are determined to trace him--the allowance, as paid through our firm, will cease." "Well, I'll take all risks," declared this rash adventurer. "And there is one thing I can promise you. I intend to put the fear of death into your--er--correspondent! Some fellows come out to India for what they call 'Shikar'; this business is _my_ shikar--instead of bison, tiger, or elephants--and mind you, it's not Uncle I am bent on tracking, but your unseen client, the murderous ruffian who impersonates him!" Then, rising after a somewhat prolonged and hostile silence: "Gentlemen, I see you are not disposed to wish me luck, so I must do my best to worry through alone. I shall call on you before I leave the country, and I'll let you know if I have any success. All letters to the Bank of Madras will be forwarded."