“There was no mistake about the directions? I told Frank to go home with your boy to bear him company, and to wait until I came. Oh, I see. The foolish fellow! He must have misunderstood me, and taken Ned home with him. They are waiting for us there.”
“And Hamet? My follower?”
“Gone with them.”
“He would not have known.”
“Then the boys have been here. Frank was fagged out, and said he would not wait for me any longer, and he has gone home. Your boy and Hamet have accompanied him to see him safely there.”
“You are speaking without conviction, Braine,” said Murray, sternly. “You say this to comfort me, and you are thinking differently. What does this mean? What desperate game is this man playing? I swear that if harm has come to that poor boy, though I die for it, I’ll shoot this rajah like a dog—like the cowardly cur he is.”
“Hush! don’t be hasty. You know that your threat may have been heard, and will perhaps be reported to the rajah.”
“Let them report it.”
“Be sensible, man,” whispered Mr Braine. “I feel all this as keenly as you do, and I cling to the hope that we may find the boys at my place. Come with me.”
Murray made no answer, but went to one of the cases he had brought up the river in the boat, and took from it his revolver and some cartridges, charged the weapon, and then thrusting it into his breast, he turned to the Resident.