“Exactly copied,” said the Colonel; “cut in the glass. I tell you it was so well done that I was almost startled.”
“Then—then—then,” cried Singh wildly, “I have been deceived!” and his voice seemed to cut down that of Glyn, who was about to burst out in a triumphant “Hooray!”
“Well, yes, my boy,” said the Colonel quietly. “I told you I must confess. I did deceive you in that, but with the best intentions.”
A look of agony crossed the boy’s face, and he turned from father to son and then back.
“Treated as a child!” he cried. “Deceived again! Oh, in whom am I to trust?”
“In me, I hope, boy,” almost thundered the Colonel in the deepest tones. “I had the trust imposed on me by your dead father to care for you and your wealth until you came of age. Should I have been acting my part had I given up to you and let you treat as a toy that valuable jewel that was almost sacred in his eyes?”
“But to—but to— Then where—where is it now?”
“Lying safely with others, sir, in the bankers’ vaults.”
“Oh–h–h–oh!” cried Singh, and his whole manner changed as he stood for a few moments striving for utterance yet unable to speak. But at last the words came, hoarsely and with a violent effort, as in the reaction from his fit of indignation he almost murmured, “What have I done? What have I said?”
“Nothing, my boy,” said the Colonel, holding out his hands, “but what had my son been in your place I would have gladly seen him do and heard him say.”