It has reached me that Imray
Sahib has returned from his so long journeyings, and that even now he lies in
the next room, waiting his servant."
"Sahib!"
The lamp-light slid along the barrels of the rifle as they leveled themselves
against Bahadur Khan's broad breast.
"Go, then, and look!" said Strickland. "Take a lamp. Thy master is tired, and
he waits. Go!"
The man picked up a lamp and went into the dining-room, Strickland following,
and almost pushing him with the muzzle of the rifle. He looked for a moment at
the black depths behind the ceiling-cloth, at the carcass of the mangled snake
under foot, and last, a grey glaze setting on his face, at the thing under the
table-cloth.
"Hast thou seen?" said Strickland, after a pause.
"I have seen. I am clay in the white man's hands. What does the presence do?"
"Hang thee within a month! What else?"
"For killing him? Nay, sahib, consider. Walking among us, his servants, he cast
his eyes upon my child, who was four years old. Him he bewitched, and in ten
days he died of the fever. My child!"
"What said Imray Sahib?"
"He said he was a handsome child, and patted him on the head; wherefore my
child died. Wherefore I killed Imray Sahib in the twilight, when he came back
from office and was sleeping.
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