by the ticking of a typewriter, and the creaking of a punkah.
"The letter," resumed Mallender, "stated that my Uncle would draw half his income through your firm, the other half would be paid to my father, as the price of his silence; and on condition that he made no attempt to trace his brother, or allowed it to be known that he was still alive. After considerable reluctance and delay, my father agreed. You follow me?"
"Oh, yes—we follow you," assented Mr. Fleming, with a bland calmness, almost feline in its composure.
"My father died two months ago; before the end, he told me of the existence of his brother and the source of the greater part of his income; he also spoke of his promise—a promise he deeply regretted. However, a pledge given before I was born has no hold on me. If my Uncle is alive, I am determined to find him, and speak to him face to face."
Having made this declaration, Captain Mallender paused, and leaning on the knob of his umbrella, gravely contemplated his companions.
"Ah, so that's your plan!" exclaimed Mr. Fleming, as he dabbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief—he suffered severely from heat.
"Have you seen my Uncle since he wrote that letter?" inquired Mallender.
"No. We have never seen him, and we cannot tell you anything about him," was the brusque and unsatisfactory reply.
"But I presume you know where he is to be found? You must have some address?"
"Which we are bound never to divulge; and in your case, my dear sir, is it not imprudent to risk the loss of four thousand a year—in fact, most of your income?"
Mr. Parr broke off dramatically, in order to allow the fact to soak into the mind of this good-looking lunatic.
"Possibly you may not be disturbed in the house or park,” supplemented his partner, "but it is from sound
