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Updated: May 31, 2025
"No more do I. This man has every body in his pay. Look at the servants! See how easily he did what he wished!" "You've got one servant left." "Ah, yes that's a fact." "That servant will do something for you." "What do you mean?" "Brandon is a man, after all and can die," said John, with deep emphasis. "Vijal," he continued, in a whisper, "hates me, but he would lay down his life for you."
When he compassed the death of Uracao, of whom you know, he obtained possession of his son, then a mere boy, and carried him away. He kept this lad with him and brought him up with the idea that he was his best friend, and that he would one day show him his father's murderer. After I made myself known to him, he told Vijal that I was this murderer. Vijal tried to assassinate me.
But Philips is timid, and Asgeelo is only one against a crowd. There is Vijal but I have not seen him. September 25 To-day in my closet I found a number of bottles of different kinds of medicine, used while I was sick. Two of these attracted my attention. Once was labeled "Laudanum," another was labeled "Hydrocyanic Acid Poison." I suppose they used these drugs for my benefit at that time.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked, solemnly. Vijal took it and looked at it earnestly. His eyes dilated, his nostrils quivered. "My father's!" he cried, in a tremulous voice. Can you read English letters?" "Yes." "Can you read the name that is cut upon it?" And Brandon pointed to a place where some letters were carved. Vijal looked earnestly at it. He saw these words: JOHN POTTS.
"Because Brandon is there." "How can he be?" "Simply," said John, "because I know the man that Vijal attacked must have been Brandon. No other person answers to the description. No other person would be so quick to dodge the cord, and so quick with the revolver. He has humbugged Vijal somehow, and this fool of a nigger has believed him. He was Brandon, and no one else, and I'm going on his track."
I can dress wounds. How you suffer!" He looked at me in bewilderment. Surprise at hearing a kind word in this house of horror seemed to deprive him of speech. Passively he let me take his arm, and I bound it up as well as I could. All this time John stood cursing, first me, and then Vijal. I said not a word, and Vijal did not seem to hear him, but sat regarding me with his fiery black eyes.
"I could not have been his murderer, then?" "No." "Yet I know who his murderer was, for I have found out." "Who?" "The same man who killed my own father." Vijal looked at Brandon with awful eyes. "Your father had a brother?" said Brandon. "Yes." "Do you know his name?" "Yes. Zangorri." "Right. Well, do you know what Zangorri did to avenge his brother's death?" "No; what?"
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