But Captain Snaffle was a gentleman, and had no idea of trading upon the
necessities of others, be they who they might. He merely replied by
saying:

"Racer, you will not mention a word of this to any one at present. I
will go down to Pallamcotta and find out to what extent Lady Chutny has
compromised herself. After that we can decide what is to be done about
letting fashionable world into the secret." The two friends left the
Fusiliers' mess room, Harry Racer trotting off to inspect some new
horses that he had got scent of, and Snaffle to his own quarters.

The following morning saw him on his way to Sir Lexicon's plantation. On
the road he overtook the baronet, and they rode the remainder of the
distance together. Imagine their consternation on finding that lady
Chutny was both dead and buried.

The planter, with his usual indolence and procrastination, was for
allowing things to remain as they were. "There is no use," he said,
"now, that the matter is all over, of disturbing the body. I will have
a handsome monument erected over her remains, and the place shall be
nicely laid out with shrubs and flowers, and kept in good order while I
live;" But Captain Snaffle thought otherwise. He felt certain that the
woman had not been accessory to her own death, but that foul play had
been used by some one and he was determined to ferret it out.
Immediately on his return to Madras he communicated his suspicions to
the police authorities, and enquiries were instituted, a reward offered,
and the whole affair came to light.

But it was not until several months after this event transpired that our
friends at Vellenaux became aware of the ultimate fate of the