“You must keep silent as the grave, Kareem,” said his master, laying down the microscope. “It is possible that there is a quantity of gold coin as well as jewels. The list seems broken off suddenly; it remains entirely with yourself to be a rich man, and if you would be wealthy, be silent. I am going into that part of the district this cold weather. Can you hold your tongue for two months?”
“I can, sahib,” faltered Kareem, who was trembling all over.
“I think I know the place—the bridge was destroyed forty years ago, but its piers are still standing; the old road, too, has fallen into disuse since we have the railway and canal, but I believe I can put my hand on the very spot, between the saal tree and the milestone.”
“And will all this treasure be mine?” whispered Kareem.
“Yes, since you claim it by the writing, which has doubtless been in your family for many generations. Possibly your father was in search of this treasure when he died.”
“Yes, most true, your highness.”
“Only for this paper in your possession, it would be claimed and recovered by Government.”
“May I tell my grandfather, Ibrahim Khan?”
“I suppose you may—that is, if he is a cautious man; but mind this, Kareem, to no one else; above all, to no woman.”
“No fear, your honour; I know that a slip of the tongue is worse than a slip of the foot.”