“And you saw that?”
“Yes,” cried Ned, with a passionate cry, as his blood, which had seemed chilled and to flow sluggishly through his veins, now throbbed in his temples. “I could not stop them. I did not know. They have just murdered a man. He fell into the river, and—and—oh, it is too horrible!”
“It was not a murder. It was an execution by the rajah’s command,” said Mr Braine, coldly. “You ought not to have come.”
“I didn’t know, sir. I could not tell. I thought—I don’t know—I never imagined—”
“I beg your pardon, my lad,” said Mr Braine, kindly. “I thought you were attracted by a morbid desire to witness the horrible.”
“Oh no!” said Ned with a shudder. “I should have been too great a coward if I had known. But has this man the right to do such things?”
“The rajah!” said Mr Braine, shrugging his shoulders; “he is king here in his own country. He has his tiny army and navy, and he has conquered the three petty chiefs nearest to his domain.”
“But the English—the Queen,” said Ned. “It seems terrible that a man like this should have such power. Will not government interfere?”
“No. How could it? But there, come with me, and try to forget what you have been seeing.”
“But one moment, sir. Couldn’t you have interfered to save the man’s life? Did you know he was to be mur—”