For the
first time old friendship shone out of his eyes mingled with a fire of
thirsty revenge.
"You and I have a debt to pay before we die, Stafford," he said.
Stafford's hand touched his coldly and powerlessly.
"I have nothing against the Rajah," he said hoarsely. "I can not carry
out a revenge against the son--"
Colonel Carmichael interrupted him with a hard laugh.
"They are all of a piece," he said. "Say what you will, Nicholson,
Nehal Singh is a traitor. We were fools to trust him. We are always
fools when we do not treat a native as a dangerous animal. They murder
us for our silly, sentimental confidence."
Nicholson bent down and, picking up the photograph, replaced it in his
pocket.
"Do you think so, Colonel?" he said significantly. "From, my
experience I have learned that you can always trust a native. You can
treat him as your friend and equal so long as the inequality is there
and obvious to him. I mean, so long as in everything--in generosity,
in courage, and in honor--he realizes that you are his superior."
Colonel Carmichael's face darkened with anger.
"Do you mean, perhaps, that--that we are not all that?" he demanded.
"Surely not all of us. How many men think that any sort of conduct is
good enough to show a native? What did Behar Singh see of our honor?
He was our friend until an Englishman who had eaten and drunk his
hospitality repaid him by a dishonorable theft.
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