“Clarence came back to-day from Simla. I have not seen him as yet. I only arrived a couple of hours ago, to collect my kit, dismiss my servants, and say good-bye to Miss Gordon. If you had ever seen her, and spoken to her, you would not have written that suggestion about a pony or a brooch. I go back to Ramghur to-morrow. My lot is not likely to be a very bright one; do not make it harder, Uncle Dan, by being implacable. I know that at first you will feel certain that you never _can_ forgive me, but you will by-and-by. Write to me and send me papers to care of Mr. Jones, Ramghur, _viâ_ Shirani. You may as well take my name off the clubs, sell the horses down at the farm, and tell Windover not to put the drag in hand. “Your affectionate nephew, “M. JERVIS.” This letter, hastily written, with numerous erasures, the writer did not trust himself to read over, but thrust it into an envelope, addressed and despatched it on the spot, as if he almost feared that he might be tempted to recall it, and change his mind. CHAPTER XXXV. “OSMAN’S SUBSTITUTE.” “Hullo, Mark!” cried his travelling companion, with cordial, outstretched hands. “So you are back? I only arrived this morning--came straight through from Simla. What’s the matter, eh? You seem rather choop.” “Oh, I’ll tell you presently. Let us have your news first.” “On the principle of keeping the best for the last, eh? for mine is _bad_. Well, as for news”--removing his cap and sitting down--“I suppose you have heard that our secret is now public property. That blatant ass, little Binks, had it all over Simla. What business had _he_ to thrust himself into our private affairs?” “It was never what you would call private,” rejoined Mark, who was leaning against the end of a real old-fashioned hill sofa, with his hands in his pockets. “I am only surprised that it never came out before.” “Yes, now that you mention it, so am I. We had a good many fellow-passengers, but they none of them came up this way; they were mostly for Burmah, or Madras, or globe-trotters. I could not give the name of one of them if I got a thousand pounds. There is nothing one forgets so soon as a fellow-passenger. Of course you have been to see your governor?” “Yes. I’ve been away nearly a fortnight.” “And how did you find him?” “I am sorry to say very broken down--ill and desolate.” “But with sacks of gold mohurs all round the rooms, and chandeliers of real diamonds. I hope you have some in your pockets?” said Waring, gaily. “No. He is a comparatively poor man; at least he has just enough to live upon--an annuity. The bulk of his fortune goes, as it ought to go, to the Cardozo family.”