"What! the son who was sentenced——?"
"The discernment of the Sahib is wonderful. Yes, these are the eyes that were to be presented on a golden plate for my father to gloat over."
"But why are you here? You must know that your life——-"
"Is in danger? True, but I seek for justice from the Protector of the
Poor."
"If you have a claim against your father, you must lay it before
Colonel Antony and the Ranjitgarh Durbar."
"And be stabbed or poisoned by emissaries from Agpur? Nay, sahib, I
want nothing for the present—merely a promise of justice in future.
Who is to sit upon the gaddi when the pyre has been built for Rajah
Partab Singh?"
"I understand that the Rajah has the right to nominate his own successor. It is no affair of mine," said Gerrard coldly. Sher Singh's eyes blazed.
"Not though he nominates the young upstart he has raised up to the prejudice of me, his rightful heir?"
"Ah, by the bye, why were you sentenced to death and cut out of the succession?" asked Gerrard casually. Sher Singh blinked once or twice before answering.
"What father does not hate his heir?" he asked at last.