His servants had returned, but Karrah had escaped. The major indulged in some peculiar profanity, as he listened to this report, and then withdrew to his wife’s cool room, and told her Sir Harold’s story. The baronet, meanwhile, took a bath and went to bed. He slept for hours, awakening after noon. He shaved and trimmed his beard, dressed himself in the suit of clothes he had formerly worn, and which were now much too large for him, and came forth into the central hall of the dwelling. Major Archer was lounging here, and came forward hastily, with both hands outstretched, and with a beaming face. “You look more like yourself, Sir Harold!” he exclaimed. “Mrs. Archer is out on the veranda, and is full of impatience to see you.” He linked his arm in the baronet’s and conducted him out to the veranda, presenting him to Mrs. Archer, who greeted him with a certain awe and kindliness, as one would welcome a hero. The little Archers were playing about under the charge of an ayah, and they also came forward timidly to welcome their father’s guest. Tiffin--the India luncheon--was served on the veranda, and after it was over, and the young people had dispersed, Sir Harold said to his host: “When does the next steamer leave for England?” “Three days hence. You will have time to catch the mail if you write to-day,” said Major Archer. “Write! Why, I shall go in her, Major!” “Impossible, Sir Harold. You are not fit for the voyage,” said Mrs. Archer. “I must go,” persisted the baronet, in a tone no one could dispute. “Think of my wife--of my daughter. Every day that keeps me from them seems an eternity. Major, I was robbed by Karrah of every penny I possessed. Plunder was a part of his motive, as well as desire for revenge. I shall have to draw upon you for a sufficient sum for my expenses.” “It’s fortunate, and quite an unprecedented thing with me, that I have a couple of hundred pounds in bank in Calcutta,” said the major. “I wish it were a thousand, but you’re quite welcome to it, Sir Harold--a thousand times welcome. I appreciate your impatience to be on your way home. If it were I, and your wife was my Molly, I’d travel day and night--but there, I’ve said enough. I’ll go to Calcutta with you, and see you off on the _Mongolian_. I wish I could do more for you.” “You can, Major. You can keep silence concerning my reappearance,” declared Sir Harold thoughtfully. “My wife is reported to be dying of grief. If she hears too abruptly that I still live, the shock may destroy her. Major, I am going home under a name not my own, that the story of my adventures may not be bruited about before she sees me. I will not reveal myself to any one in Calcutta, nor to any one in England, before reaching home. I will go quietly and unknown to Hawkhurst, and reveal myself with all care and caution to Neva, who will break the news to my wife.”