Mr. Rayner and his hostess had quite made friends when they parted next morning, he to accompany her husband to his office. He assured Mrs. Melford that he would not fail to return to tiffin, and also to avail himself of the pleasure of a sail up the Hoogly. Seated in his host's gharry as they rattled along the bustling streets, Rayner contrasted it with the leisurely ongoings of the Mount Road in Madras, and the comparison seemed to him all in favour of the Europeanised city.

"Why, one seems to live and move and be here, Melford!" he exclaimed. "This place suits me down to the ground. I declare, I think I shall make a bid for a share of Truelove Brothers' lacs without delay!"

The gharry now drew up in front of a handsome block of buildings to which Mr. Melford introduced him as his employers' premises, and, alighting, he arranged to meet him again at Ballygunge Road, whither he intended to return when his call was over. "You'll easily pick up a tikka-gharry at Truelove's. They're as thick as flies there about," his host assured him as they parted.

The quarters of the old merchants' firm looked more ancient and dull than that of Melford's employers, but they had a dignified air of respectability which was quite in keeping with the best traditions of such offices.

Rayner handed his card to one of the durwans in attendance in the marble-paved hall around which were many doors marked with the names of the occupants of the chambers. From one of these the durwan emerged now and requested the visitor to follow him. He led him into a smaller hall from which a staircase led to the upper rooms; and into one of these, a large lofty apartment, Mr. Rayner was ushered.

A tall, middle-aged man with a kindly, sagacious face was pacing up and down dictating to a Eurasian clerk who sat at the table. He paused in his walk, bowing to his visitor as he said: "How do you do, sir!"

Rayner noticed that a pair of shrewd eyes were fixed upon him with a quiet, scrutinising glance.

"Ha, he don't half like this chip of the old block coming to claim his own," he said to himself as he returned the bow with a broad smile. "Sorry to disturb you on a busy morning, sir. I've just remembered that this is our English mail day," he began, as the clerk began to gather his papers to retire.

"Oh, as to that we're always pretty well up to time here," returned the other, motioning his visitor to the seat which the clerk had just vacated, and taking a chair opposite him.

"Well, I suppose I'd better come to the point at once," began Mr. Rayner briskly. "The fact is I've taken this run to Calcutta to see my birthplace, and I thought I might use the opportunity to call on the present representative of Truelove Brothers. I believe you are now the senior partner of the firm?"

"I am," said Mr. Fyson laconically.

"Well, naturally sentimental reasons prompted me to wish to see the inside of the business house where my father was a partner."

Mr. Fyson raised his eyebrows but made no response.

"I speak of David Rayner. Of course you are aware that I am his son?"

"There was never a David Rayner partner in this firm, but I believe a John Rayner once held some office here."

"My uncle, of course."

"Your uncle, was he? I never saw Mr. John Rayner. He had left before my time; but he held only a subordinate place in the firm. I could tell you what it was by looking up records."

"It's of no account! Then, sir, if you were not in the firm at that time you may not be aware of the fact that my father, David Rayner, was a partner."

Mr. Fyson shook his head negatively, and the young man continued in a louder voice:

"Pray, why else does your firm supply me with an allowance?—has done so for years—since I was a child of four, sent at my father's death to England with my aunt, Mrs. John Rayner."

"Your father's death!" repeated Mr. Fyson; and Alfred Rayner felt certain that his voice faltered when he uttered these words.

"Ha, there's some villainy here—the old story I expect of an orphan defrauded of his rights," thought Rayner, but he resolved to be nothing if not practical, and bending forward with a facetious smile, he said in a tone of well-simulated frankness: "Well, I'll be open with you, Mr. Fyson. The fact is I came to see whether the firm can allow me a bigger share of the profits than I've been drawing. I'll even consent to let bygones be bygones if you'll deal straight with me at last. I'm a man now and a lawyer to boot, and you'll not make me believe that the only son of an old partner of the firm has not a right to a bigger slice of the profits of this prosperous house than the paltry sums I've been having."

As he spoke he felt as if he were placing an ultimatum in the hands of a trapped man on whose face he now fixed his eyes, saying to himself: "He's fairly caught now, and if I can get gold enough to pull me through my present involvements I'll defer my claim for a time."

He continued to watch Mr. Fyson, who preserved silence for some moments, his face wearing a perplexed air. Passing his hand across his forehead, his lips parted as if he were going to speak, then he closed them again, appearing still in doubt as to what his answer should be. At length he said very slowly:

"Your plea for a larger allowance is unfortunately flanked by more than one fallacy. I am really at a loss to know where to disentangle these." He cleared his throat and went on: "For the second time I must tell you that no such person as David Rayner ever existed in this firm, either as partner or underling. Second, that the allowance which you receive is not from the profits of this firm but from a private source. In fact, you are not as you suppose the fatherless son of any old partner of Truelove Brothers."

"My allowance not from this firm!" cried Rayner in open-mouthed astonishment. "Do I not receive half yearly from your house the sum of five thousand rupees?"

"It is true that the money does pass through our hands—more I am not at liberty to disclose," said Mr. Fyson firmly.

"A plot, I declare!" cried the young man with flashing eyes. "Not at liberty to disclose where my income is derived from? Why, you forget that you are not addressing a child, but a member of the Madras bar and a sharp one too!" His temper visibly rose as he spoke.

Mr. Fyson's keen face twitched uneasily. He patted the crisp papers which lay on his writing table and lowered his eyes as if to seek counsel in a dilemma. Then, fixing his keen grey orbs on his visitor, he looked at him steadily as if to take stock of him more fully. He then seemed to decide on his course of action, and began to speak in a matter of fact tone:

"You mention your allowance—I should tell you that I have before me your recent application for an increase——"

"That won't satisfy me now! I want my rights," broke in Rayner sulkily.

"Will you allow me to finish what I have to say without interruption?" There was a severe note in the senior partner's voice which acted as a check. "I was about to write to you on the subject. My reply was to be that your allowance will be increased on one condition only, that you will give a pledge,—for the keeping of which due means will be taken—namely, that you will give up all betting, card-playing for money, gambling in any form. If you agree to this I think I can venture to say—in fact I am authorised to state that your allowance will be doubled"; and again Mr. Fyson patted his papers.

As he listened to the calm, even tones, Alfred Rayner's face darkened to a scowl which seemed to transform the smiling young fellow, who had walked into Mr. Fyson's room a few minutes before, into an evil spirit.

"I never heard a more insulting proposal from one man to another!" he exclaimed in a choking voice. "Do you take me for a kid you can tie to the leg of a table, that you are trying this impertinence on me? I tell you I won't stand it for a moment! I'll have a case filed against you."

The older man passed his fingers through his whitening hair and shook his head in evident perplexity.

"Come now, be reasonable," he began. "If these are the only terms on which you can double your allowance—and you admit that you are in need of money—don't you think you would be a wise man to close with them, now and here, and end this interview?" added Mr. Fyson, rising from his chair with an air of decision. His conciliatory tone was however misinterpreted by the younger man, who sprang from his chair with clenched hands.

"You think to wheedle me, I see, but it won't do! I'll expose you, I'll put the matter into legal hands here where you are known, and I hope it will ruin you. I'll have my rights I tell you—whatever it costs me," he added, coming a step nearer and looking with threatening eyes at the tall, impassive figure.

"To what matter do you refer? To what rights, pray?" asked Mr. Fyson calmly, putting his hands in his pockets.

"As my father's heir I have a right to his estate. Don't you mistake, I'll be even with Messrs. Truelove Brothers yet"; and Mr. Rayner took a step towards the door.

"One moment," said Mr. Fyson, taking his right hand from his pocket. "I want to repeat again that we are not your trustees, Mr.——" Here Mr. Fyson paused as if the surname had escaped his memory.

"Rayner," supplied the other.

"Ah, no—a better name!" murmured Mr. Fyson as he looked at the young man, and a curious smile played about his lips.

"Do you mean to give me the lie when I tell you my own name? This is insupportable! Perhaps you think I'm an impostor? Yet do you not address—or cause to be addressed—all the remittances that come from this house to Alfred Rayner?" he asked, with a strong effort at calmness.

"I do—though with reluctance," replied Mr. Fyson slowly. "You have driven me into a corner, young man! I feel that I owe it in loyalty to the good man who is your father to tell you that he lives still, and to tell you that the name he was induced—wrongly in my opinion—to consent to your bearing is not his"; and with a troubled air Mr. Fyson sat down again at his writing table and glanced at his papers.

"You lie, you lie!" screamed Alfred Rayner with almost feminine shrillness. His passion choked him for a moment, then, with an effort at calmness, though he was still trembling all over, he called out: "Proof—I ask for proof, definite—immediate—of this astounding statement!"

"Fain would I give you the proof you seek if it lay with me, but loyalty to one of the best of men keeps me silent! But it appears to me that the hour has struck for a different course of action from that which has hitherto been maintained," said Mr. Fyson, with a stern light coming into his eyes. "You have need to be disabused of some of your—hallucinations, shall I call them? I hope permission may be given me to let you know the truth. I am sorry for your sake it has been so long withheld. I shall communicate with you in due course. Meanwhile, I should like to call your attention again to the offer your good father has made. Will you agree to his terms? I have his commands to double your allowance if you will only cease from vices which he holds—and rightly—to be soul-ruining. Now, sir, I desire to bring this interview to a close," said Mr. Fyson, again rising, though his visitor still stood as if riveted to the spot.

The older man straightening himself put his hands in his pockets and bowed stiffly, then with a softened air he added:

"I would fain believe all good of you as your father's son. I hope it will be given to you to know him one day—and to know him will be to respect him as I have done for years."

Somehow, as these words fell on his ear, Rayner seemed to move mechanically to the door, and stood outside it as if in a dream. He made a gesture as if he would re-enter, but appeared to decide against the step. Clinging to the old banisters he walked slowly downstairs, and crossed the marble-floored hall, the soft-footed durwan opening the door for him noiselessly, he passed out to the busy street.

He walked a few paces with unsteady tread, forgetting that he meant to hire a carriage. The noonday sun was beating fiercely on his head, but in the tumult of his thoughts he did not heed it. His first sense of being completely foiled in his mission with Truelove Brothers was presently succeeded by a suggestion of a different kind.

"Why, this unknown pater of mine is evidently an important personage! He may turn out to be some big official—Lieutenant-Governor of a province or the like! The old merchant spoke of him with bated breath. What an idiot I am to be weighted down by a sense of failure! I've actually scored this morning after all. The old fool very nearly let the cat out of the bag though! If I had only hung about a moment longer I might have heard all. But I'll worm out the secret yet. A double allowance if I turn Methody! Ha, ha! Why, lacs of rupees are more likely my rightful portion!"

Remembering his promise to return to Ballygunge Road to tiffin, he decided to call a tikka-gharry, and was stepping into it when he was accosted by a young man with a cringing air whom he at once recognised as Mr. Fyson's Eurasian clerk.

"Beg pardon, sir, but a word with you for your own advantage!" he said, making salaams.

"Well, out with it! I'm in a hurry," said Mr. Rayner in an impatient tone.

"You see, sir, it's like this," began the man, putting his head to one side. "I couldn't help hearing your talk through the door. You and the master both havin' a kind of carryin' voice—not as I heard all your talk—but you want to know who your father is? Well, I can let you into thatt secret," he added, with a nod and a wink.

"And pray what do you know about it?" asked Rayner coldly. "How can I believe a word that you say when you stand a convicted eavesdropper?"

"Oh, sir, don't say thatt," said the young man, glancing furtively round, his hands clinging to the window of the gharry. "But, look here, sir, if you'll trust me I'll give you his name and proof positive into the bargain. Can't do it now, I see a fellow from Truelove's comin' along, and suspicion might be raised if you and me is caught hobnobbin'. They're terrible strict at our place."

"Well, where can we meet?" asked Rayner, seeing the difficulty of prolonging the present interview. "I'm a stranger to the town. I could come to your house this evening if you give me your address—that is to say if you've got anything worth telling me."

"Oh, sir, my house is too humble for a grand gent like you to come to," returned the clerk, shaking his head.

"Where then, quick, don't you humbug me a moment longer. Drive on, gharry-wallah," he shouted to the coachman, "I'm sick of this nonsense."

"One moment," pleaded the other, making a sign to the driver, and putting his head in at the window of the gharry. "What price if I tell you the secret and prove it?"

"A ten rupee note will be ample payment," returned Rayner.

"A ten-rupee note," echoed the clerk, withdrawing his head, then he thrust it in again. "Look here, sir, if you'll meet me at the Shrine of Kali at seven o'clock to-night—any gharry-wallah will drive you to that place, it ain't more than a mile off—I'll tell you what you want to know and prove it, but not for one pie less than one hundred rupees. I don't sell Truelove's best secret for naught," he added, with a cunning leer.

"All right, I'll consider," said Rayner.

The gharry-wallah waved his whip and began to thread his way along the crowded thoroughfare.