"I see," breathed Matt, his eyes wandering to the girl.
Haidee had grown quiet, her face expressionless and her eyes staring and vacant, as before.
"I, with my rich rajah brother," continued Ben Ali, with bitterness, "was only de driver of his elephants. No more. I work. He live in luxury and do not anything. Captain Manners die. Then his wife, she die, too. Suttee. She burn on de funeral pyre, as our custom is in my land. De husband die, then de widow die. Margaret she live. My brother, de rajah, give me money, send me to Calcutta after Margaret. I go. I get de girl and we take ship to America. Hah! On de way I tell Margaret it is her uncle, de rajah's wish, that she go to de Vassar school in America, that I follow order when I take her there. She believe what I say. On de steamer I begin de trances. She not like them, but she agree at first. By and by she not able to help herself. I tell her she not remember who she is when she wake, that she only Haidee. She b'leeve." The scoundrel laughed. "I have de so great power with the eyes and the hands, sahib."
"Why did you join a show and take the girl with you?" demanded Matt, a feeling of horror and repulsion for Ben Ali growing in his heart.
"I have to live, sahib. My money give out. I know how to drive de elephant, so I hear of de show and go there. Boss Burton hire me. I speak of Haidee. He hire her, too."
"Did she know how to perform on the trapeze—she, the niece of a powerful rajah and daughter of an English gentleman?"
"She know not anything about that. I put her in de trance and tell her she know. Then she perform on de trapeze better than any."
"Why did you want her to go up on the flying machine?"
"Cut it short," growled McGlory huskily. "I feel like using the knife on the villain, pard. He ain't fit to live."