"Do you recognize that face?" he asked.
"Certainly I do. It is the Rajah's father—Behar Singh. How did you come by this?"
"It belonged to my father. He gave it me, and I kept it as a curiosity. Colonel, I saw that man last night at the Rajah's side."
The photograph fluttered from the Colonel's powerless fingers. He looked at Nicholson, and there flashed into his old eyes a terrible primitive passion of revenge and hatred.
"My God! He is alive—and I never knew!"
"He is alive, Colonel. And I believe that, hidden from us all, he has been working steadily and stealthily at the task which saw its completion last night. So long as Nehal Singh stood on our side he could do nothing. The people believe Nehal to be an incarnation of Vishnu, and they will only follow where he leads. Behar knew that—probably he himself had fostered the idea. He guessed, probably, that one day Nehal Singh would turn from us. He waited. Last night I saw a face of devilish triumph which told its own tale. He had not waited in vain."
Colonel Carmichael turned to Stafford and held out his hand. For the first time old friendship shone out of his eyes mingled with a fire of thirsty revenge.
"You and I have a debt to pay before we die, Stafford," he said.
Stafford's hand touched his coldly and powerlessly.
"I have nothing against the Rajah," he said hoarsely. "I can not carry out a revenge against the son—"