_To-night_"--he
stood before her, glaring madly into her face--"I think so again--that
you have gone to him...."
"Oh, Chunda Lal!" cried Miska piteously and extended her hands towards
him. "No, no--do not say it!"
"So!" he whispered--"I understand! You risk so much for him--for me
you risk nothing! If he--the Doctor Sahib--say to you: 'Come with me,
Miska----'"
"No, no! Can I never have one friend in all the world! I hear you
call, Chunda Lal, but I am burning the envelope and--Doctor Stuart--
finds me. I am trapped. You know it is so.
"I know you say so. And because he--Fo-Hi--is not sure and because of
the piece of the scorpion which you find there, we go to that house--
_he_ and I--and we fail in what we go for." Chunda Lal's hand dropped
limply to his sides. "Ah! I cannot understand, Miska. If we are not
sure then, are we sure _now?_ It may be"--he bent towards her--"we are
trapped!"
"Oh, what do you mean?"
"We do not know how much they read of what he had written. Why do we
wait?"
_"He_ has some plan, Chunda Lal," replied Miska wearily. "Does he
ever fail?"
Her words rekindled the Hindu's ardour; his eyes lighted up anew.
"I tell you his plan," he whispered tensely. "Oh! you shall hear
me! He watch you grow from a little lovely child, as he watch his
death-spiders and his grey scorpions grow! He tend you and care for
you and make you perfect, and he plan for you as he plan for this
other creatures.
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