“I wouldn’t have even given him that but that Ronnie has asked me to be civil to him. I think it’s something to do with racing and that they have a mutual interest in a speculation.”
“Ah! My own impression of Balthasar is that he is a wrong ‘un, a sort of parasite hanging on to the Nawabs in the city, and squeezing out money and concessions for his schemes in gold and coal. He has a bad influence over young fellows. Gets them down to his house in Chudderghat and encourages them to gamble and drink champagne—and I can’t stand seeing him talk to a woman. As he was jabbering to you this evening I felt half-inclined to knock him down and wring his neck.”
“That would indeed be strong measures!” I answered with a laugh. “Ronnie says that, making all allowances for his foreign blood, he is not such a bad fellow.”
“He is a beast!” declared my companion with vicious energy. “Don’t let’s talk about him any more. And now,” suddenly sinking into the chair beside me, “behold, this is the hour and the moment for you to tell me that secret.”
“Must I really?” I asked with a start.
“Yes, I’ve hardly been able to sleep for thinking of it,” and he laughed. “You know you broke off just in the most interesting place that morning we rode on the racecourse at Moul Ali.”
“And that was ages ago,” I said. “Fancy restless nights for weeks—how too dreadful!”
“Well, now, please put an end to my misery and impart your awful tale.”
“It is rather awful,” I said gravely, “and I believe you will be shocked.”
“Oh, no fear of that,” he answered. “It would be absolutely impossible for you to shock me.”