"Why have they shut me up here?" demanded Desmond. "Captain Barker said I was to return at once. Do get the door unlocked." "You ask the impossible, my young friend," replied Diggle through the hole. "You are here by the orders of Angria, and ’twould be treason in me to pick his locks." "But why? what right has he to lock me up? and you, why did you let him? You said you were my friend; you promised--oh, you know what you promised." "I promised? Truly, I promised that, if you were bent on accompanying me to these shores, I would use my influence to procure you employment with one of my friends among the native princes. Well, I have kept my word; ’firmavi fidem,’ as the Latin hath it. Angria is my friend; I have used my influence with him; and you are now in the service of one of the most potent of Indian princes. True, your service is but beginning. It may be arduous at first; it may be long ’ab ovo usque ad mala’; the egg may be hard, and the apples, perchance, somewhat sour; but as you become inured to your duties, you will learn resignation and patience, and----" "Don’t!" burst out Desmond, unable to endure the smooth-flowing periods of the man now self-confessed a villain. "What does it mean? Tell me plainly; am I a slave?" "’Servulus, non servus,’ my dear boy. What is the odds whether you serve Dick Burke, a booby farmer, or Tulaji Angria, a prince and a man of intelligence? Yet there is a difference, and I would give you a word of counsel. Angria is an Oriental, and a despot; it were best to serve him with all diligence, or----" He finished the sentence with a meaning grimace. "Mr. Diggle, you can’t mean it," said Desmond. "Don’t leave me here! I implore you to release me. What have I ever done to you? Don’t leave me in this awful place." Diggle smiled and began to move away. At the sight of his malicious smile the prisoner’s despair was swept away before a tempest of rage. "You scoundrel! You shameless scoundrel!" The words, low spoken and vibrant with contempt, reached Diggle when he was some distance from the shed. He turned and sauntered back. "Heia! Contumeliosae voces! ’Tis pretty abuse. My young friend, I must withdraw my ears from such shocking language. But stay! if you have any message for Sir Willoughby, your squire, whose affections you have so diligently cultivated to the prejudice of his nearest and dearest, it were well for you to give it. ’Tis your last opportunity; for those who enter Angria’s service enjoy a useful but not a long career. And before I return to Gheria from a little journey I am about to take, you may have joined the majority of those who have tempted fate in this insalubrious clime. In a moment swift death cometh--you remember the phrase?" Diggle leant against the wooden wall, watching with malicious enjoyment the effect of his words. Desmond was very pale; all his strength seemed to have deserted him. Finding that his taunts provoked no reply, Diggle went on: