There was no
other in the cabin. Having discovered all that he wished to know, Desmond
crawled backward as carefully as he had come.
At the moment of discovery he had felt the eager boy's impulse to spring
upon the sleeper at once, but although his muscles had been hardened by a
year of toil he doubted whether he had sufficient physical strength to
make absolutely sure of his man; a single cry, the sound of a scuffle,
might be fatal. The Gujarati, on the other hand, a man of great bulk,
could be trusted to overpower the victim by sheer weight, and with his
iron clutch to insure that no sound came from him. Desmond's only fear
indeed was that the man, as in the case of the sentinel on the bastion,
might overdo his part and give him all too thorough a quietus.
He came to the entrance of the cabin. His appearance brought the Gujarati
to his side.
"Remember, Fuzl Khan," he whispered, "we must keep the serang alive; not
even stun him. You understand?"
"I know, sahib."
Drawing him silently into the apartment and to the edge of the platform,
Desmond again crept to the lantern, and now turned it gradually still
farther inwards until the form of the sleeper could be distinctly seen.
The light was still dim; but it occurred to Desmond that the glow,
increased now that the lantern was turned round, might attract the
attention of the gamblers on the gallivat at the end of the line. So,
while the Gujarati stood at the platform, ready to pounce on the sleeper
as a cat on a mouse if he made the least movement, Desmond tiptoed to the
door and began to close the sliding panel.
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