“I said farewell to the captain of the Golden Wave and my friend Colliver upon the quay, meaning to ask Mr. Sanderson to recommend a good lodging for the short time I intended to stay in Bombay.  Captain Carey had already directed me to the East India Company’s office, and hither I tried to make my way at once.  Easy as it was, however, I missed it, being lost in admiration of the crowd.  When at last I arrived at the doors I was surprised to see Colliver coming out, until I remembered that his brother was in the Company’s employ.  It seems, however, that he had been transferred to Trichinopoly some months before, and my friend’s labour was in vain.  I am bound to say that he took his disappointment with great good-humour, and made very merry over our meeting again so soon, protesting that for the future we had better hunt in couples among this outlandish folk; and so I lost him again.

“After some difficulty and delay I found myself at length in the presence of this Mr. Elihu Sanderson, on whom I had speculated so often.  I was ushered by a clerk into his private office, and as he rose to meet me, judged him directly to be the son of the Elihu Sanderson mentioned in my father’s Will—­as indeed is the case.  A spare, dry, shrivelled man, with a mouth full of determination and acuteness, and a habit of measuring his words as though they were for sale, he is in everything but height the essence of every Scotchman I remember to have seen.

“‘Good day,’ said he, ‘Mr.—­I fancy I did not catch your name.’

“‘Trenoweth,’ said I.

“‘Indeed!  Trenoweth!’ he repeated, and I fancy I saw a glimmer of surprise in his eyes.  ‘Do I guess your business?’

“‘Maybe you do,’ I replied, ‘for I take it to be somewhat unusual.’

“’Ah, yes; just so; somewhat unusual!’—­and he chuckled drily—­ ’somewhat unusual!  Very good indeed!  I suppose—­eh?—­you have some credentials—­some proof that you really are called Trenoweth?’—­Here Mr. Sanderson looked at me sharply.

“In reply I produced my father’s Will and the little Bible from my jersey’s side.  As I did so, I felt the Scotchman’s eyes examining me narrowly.  I handed him the packet.  The Will he read with great attention, glanced at the Bible, pondered awhile, and then said—­

“’I suppose you guess that this was a piece of private business between Amos Trenoweth, deceased, and my father, also deceased.  I tell ye frankly, Mr. Trenoweth—­by the way, what is your Christian name, eh?  So you are the Ezekiel mentioned in the Will?  Are you a bold man, eh?  Well, you look it, at any rate.  As I was saying, I tell ye frankly it is not the sort of business I would have undertaken myself.  But my father had his crotchets—­which is odd, as I’m supposed to resemble him—­he had his crotchets, and among them was an affection for your father.  It may have been based on profit, for your father, Mr. Trenoweth, as far as I have heard, was not exactly a lovable man, if ye’ll excuse me.  If it was, I’ve never seen those profits, and I’ve examined my father’s papers pretty thoroughly.  But this is a family matter, and had better not be discussed in office hours.  Can you dine with me this evening?’