“One of our royal house may have been in the battle, and I, who am of his blood, keep it in my memory.”
“That may be all so,” commented Jefferson Arnold. “But I didn’t take much stock in this second sight, or whatever you call it. That sort of thing doesn’t go in business; I know that.”
So matter-of-fact a person as the millionaire, who had made his money by plain hard-headedness and commercial acumen, was not likely to make much belief in, or patience with, the occultism of the East. He was not ashamed of his skepticism, either.
“Yet will I prove that my words are true,” was Jai Singh’s dignified rejoinder. “We shall soon meet men of the Golden Scarab.”
As he said this, he skillfully brought the boat to a stop in the shallow water near the shore, and jumping in, followed by his four oarsmen, pulled at the craft till it was firmly fixed in the soft mud of the bank.
With the four men to help, the labor had been nothing.
“This is as far as we go on the river,” announced Jai Singh. “Now we walk. Will the sahib give orders to the men?”
Nick Carter nodded and directed the oarsmen to line up in front of him. Adil, without being told, took his place by the side of the oarsmen.
“Not you, Adil,” put in Jefferson Arnold.
“I go with the others,” returned Adil briefly. “I must find Sahib Leslie, and yonder is the way.”