There was a malevolent glare in his shiny black eyes.
Chip sat down in the nearest chair; he did not intend to be ruffled. He had long since discovered that no one gains anything by turning his quills out like a porcupine.
“I was in no position to make any claims about it; but I’ve wondered about it hundreds of times. As I was found in that thing, somebody put me there.”
“Perhaps you did it yourself,” said the young Hindu, with a sneer, though his manner was guarded; “it’s as credible as that I did it.”
Chip looked at him, when his attention was not directed toward the queer trunk. He was hoping that if Kadir Dhin really knew anything about that odd happening, by some slip, or by the expression of his face, he might reveal it.
“What is it about that Hindu soldier?” he asked. “That is, what do you know? I heard what Colonel Gunn said at that investigation, but I wasn’t in a mental condition to take it all in. Did you know the man?”
Kadir Dhin stared at him, hesitated, and then answered:
“He was my uncle.”
“Do you think he is here?”
“I know nothing about that,” said Kadir Dhin. “Ask Colonel Gunn.”