"
"They did make an attempt, then. Why was he spared?"
"That, sir, deponent knoweth not. The plot was carried to Angria."
"How?"
"That also is dark as pitch. But Fuzl Khan was spared, that we know. No
man can trust his vis-a-vis. No man is now so bold to discuss such
matters."
"Is that why we are all chained up at night?"
"That, sir, is the case. It is since then our limbs are shackled."
Desmond thought over this piece of information. He had noticed that the
Gujarati was left much alone by the others. They were outwardly civil
enough, but they rarely spoke to him of their own accord, and sometimes
they would break off in a conversation if he appeared interested. Desmond
had put this down to the man's temper; he was a sullen fellow, with a
perpetually hangdog look, occasionally breaking out in paroxysms of
violence which cost him many a scourging from the overseer's merciless
rattan. But the attitude of his fellow prisoner was more easily explained
if the Babu's hint was well founded. They feared him.
Yet, if he had indeed betrayed his comrades, he had gained little by his
treachery. He was no favorite with the officers of the yard. They kept
him hard at work, and seemed to take a delight in harrying him. More than
once, unjustly, as it appeared to Desmond, he had made acquaintance with
the punishment tank. In his dealings with his fellows he was morose and
offensive. A man of great physical strength, he was a match for any two
of his shed companions save the Biluchis, who, though individually
weaker, retained something of the spirit of their race and made common
cause against him.
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