He arrived at the first house on the outskirts of the town. It was the one in which Pantulu's family lived. The household was astir and a group of men stood in the verandah preparing to go out on their various errands and duties. From the midst burst Sooba who recognised the missionary although the latter was not acquainted with Pantulu's brother. "May I have a word with you, sir," asked Sooba. "With pleasure," replied Alderbury in some surprise. He had no adherents in Chirapore nor in the State, and for the moment he had forgotten Ananda's existence. "What can I do for you?" "I wish to ask you a few questions about my nephew," said Sooba. "Yes; but tell me first who is your nephew?" As he spoke Alderbury looked up at the house and suddenly remembered the visit he had paid. "Of course, I recollect now. This is where Ananda lives. How is he? I hope he is well." Sooba glanced at the Englishman suspiciously, trying to hide his distrust under a forced smile. "My nephew sought your assistance some days ago, sir." "I think you are mistaken. I offered help but he refused it. Since that time I have neither seen nor heard of him, except the fact mentioned by Dr. Wenaston in a letter, that he had left his home and that you were under the impression that he had gone to the college. It was extremely kind of the Principal to allow you to go through his private rooms. I am not sure that I should have been so obliging." Alderbury's voice had unconsciously assumed a tone of reproof, and Sooba writhed inwardly under it. "Dr. Wenaston could not refuse, since a refusal would have been a tacit acknowledgment that he was harbouring a Christian and breaking his covenant with the Maharajah." "Not at all," replied Alderbury sharply. He did not like the manner of the man. "You took a great liberty. It was sufficient for all purposes that he assured you Ananda was not there. What made you think that your nephew had gone to him for help?" "The gardener gave me a hint that some one had arrived the night before," said Sooba sullenly. "The gardener! Ah, the man owes his mistress a grudge. The housekeeper caught him stealing her roses. So that was how he took his revenge, and you were foolish enough to be made the instrument." "The gardener was right in saying that a visitor had arrived in the night. The woman's son, a sick soldier, came in by the mail. I saw him lying in her room drunk." "Where do you suppose your nephew has gone?" asked Alderbury not choosing to discuss Mrs. Hulver with the man. "That is what I expect you to tell me, since he has been so foolish as to break his caste and join a religion that is acceptable to the pariahs and panchamas only." "Sorry I can't oblige you; good morning," said Alderbury, checking his rising anger with difficulty.