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Updated: May 6, 2025
Gloom and sunshine jostled each other. On the one hand, Nehal Singh had never looked better than he did then. The old film of dreamy contemplation was gone from his eyes, which flashed with energy and purpose; the face was thinner and in places lined; the figure, always upright, had become more muscular.
"That's just the way," Beatrice heard some one behind her say. "We dance on the crust of a volcano or under a threatening avalanche. Sooner or later the one gives way or the other falls. There is no real safety from these devils." Meanwhile Nehal Singh had approached the wreckage and was examining the crown, to which a piece of gilded rope and chain were still attached.
At last Behar Asor lifted his head and glanced quickly sidewise at the figure seated on the throne. Nehal Singh's eyes were now entirely closed and seemed to sleep. Such a proceeding would have been excusable enough in the suffocating heat, but the sight drove the old man into a fresh paroxysm of indignation. "Sleepest thou, Nehal Singh?" he demanded, in a harsh, rasping voice.
He happened to come across this stone, and being something of an expert, he recognized it and held his tongue. When he came south again to Madras, he confided hit discovery to me, and, impressed by his story, and the stone, I sent a mining engineer to Marut to make secret investigations. I received his report six months ago." Nehal Singh replaced the stone slowly in its case.
Wealth is power, Rajah Sahib, and in your hand there lies a power for good or evil which dazzles the senses of a less fortunate man." Nehal Singh lifted his face thoughtfully toward the evening sky. "Power for good or evil!" he echoed. "It may be that you are right. But power is a great clumsy giant, who can accomplish nothing without the experienced guiding brain."
In the midst of a gay and crowded world of people, linked together by a common tie of blood, Nehal Singh stood isolated. He did not know it, but it was that loneliness which cast a transitory chill upon his enthusiasm and made him draw himself stiffly upright and face the hundred questioning eyes with a new hauteur.
"Is it not a sight to bring peace to the soul of the poet and the dreamer? But for the warrior? Can he draw his sword against flowers and trees?" The old man smiled coldly, but not without satisfaction. "There is a world that awaiteth thee beyond," he said. "A world of which I know nothing." "The time cometh." Nehal Singh studied the wrinkled face with a new intentness.
"Thou art right," Nehal Singh said. "I have misused my power, and that I will not do. Whilst thou art here thou needst fear neither insult nor danger." "I fear neither," was the answer. A bitter, scornful smile lifted the corners of the set lips. "So thou sayest." Then, with a gesture of impatience, he went on: "Thou hast sought me here, and it is well.
Beatrice drew back with a gesture of alarm. A tall, white-clad figure had suddenly stepped out of the shadowy portal and stood erect and threatening, one hand raised as though to forbid their entrance. Long afterward, Beatrice remembered the withered face, and always with a shudder of unreasonable terror. "Do not be afraid," Nehal Singh said. "He defends the entrance against strangers.
A slow oozing stream of blood crept over the white marble to Nicholson's feet. The voices died into silence. Nicholson and Nehal Singh faced each other over the dead body. "Thou seest," Nehal Singh said. "There is no turning back." "No, there is no turning back." The Englishman drew himself upright.
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