Major Jervis was laid in the cantonment cemetery the following morning. Mr. Burgess read the funeral service. Mark, Mr. Pollitt, and one or two neighbours assembled round the grave, whilst afar off stood servants, coolies, and many sick and poor, and lepers, to whom the “dear brother,” now being laid to rest, had been a kind and generous friend. Fernandez arrived, in answer to a telegram, full of joy, bustle, and importance. He could not understand the faces of the two Englishmen. It was, as he frankly stated, a happy release. He delighted in organization, change, and excitement, and undertook all arrangements with zeal. He seemed to be everywhere at once. He talked, strutted, gesticulated, and made such a stir that it seemed as if ten men had been added to the party. “The house and land are Mark’s,” he explained to Mr. Pollitt; “not worth much,” shrugging his shoulders. “Everything else comes to _me_--all the jewels. I wish I could show you those in the bank,” and his eyes glittered as he thought of them. “But we will get out what is here and let you have a look at them, for they are native and very curious.” A big safe was accordingly unlocked, the contents brought forth and poured out, nay, heaped, upon a crimson-covered table, which displayed them to advantage. Mr. Pollitt sat down deliberately, to examine what evidently represented an immense quantity of money, thus sunk in gold and precious stones. There were aigrettes of diamonds, the jewels dull and badly cut, but of extraordinarily great size. There were vases and boxes of gold, and white and green jade inlaid with rubies. Khas-dans, or betel boxes; jars for otto of roses; crescent ornaments for the turban, set with emeralds and diamonds; gold anklets, with the ends formed of elephant heads; forehead ornaments, set with great pearls with pendant drops; plumes or turahs for turbans, with strings of diamonds; armlets, bangles, rings for nose or ear, back-scratchers of gold and ivory, glorious ropes of pearls, and many huge unset emeralds and rubies. It was the collection and stores of generations, now about to be scattered to the four winds by the plump and restless hand of Fernandez Cardozo. “I would like to give you something, Mark,” he said, carelessly turning over piles of gold and precious stones as he spoke. “Will you accept a present from me, my good fellow?” “Of course he will,” said the little Londoner, with business-like promptitude. “You joked with me about wearing a--a--necklace, eh, you remember, when I showed you a certain little bit of jewellery?” Fernandez looked conscious, and actually believed that he was blushing. “Well now, I am going to present _you_ with one! Look at this!” holding towards him a string of large emeralds, pierced and run on a silken cord, and fastened off by a gold tassel. “These are for your future bride, Mark my boy.” “How did you know about her?” eyeing him gravely.