"Government watches its wards very tenderly," said Labertouche with a grin. "Besides, India's a great place for gossip…. And then," he pursued tenaciously, "I remembered something else. I recalled that Rutton had one very close friend, an Englishman named Farrell—"
"Oh, what's the use?" Amber cut in nervously. "You understand the situation too well. It's no good my trying to keep anything from you."
"Such as the fact that Colonel Farrell adopted Rutton's daughter, who, as it happens, did survive her mother? Yes; I knew that—or, rather, part I knew and part I guessed. But don't worry, Mr. Amber; I'll keep the secret."
"For the girl's sake," said Amber, twisting his hands together.
"For her sake. I pledge you my word."
"Thank you."
"And now … for what purpose did Rutton ask you to come to India?
Wasn't it to get Miss Farrell out of the country?"
"I think you're the devil himself," said Amber.
"I'm not," confessed Labertouche; "but I am a member of the Indian Secret Service—not officially connected with the police, observe!—and I know a deal that you don't. I think, in short, I can place my finger on the reason why Rutton was so concerned to get his daughter out of the country."
Amber looked his question.