"He is alive, Colonel. And I believe that, hidden from us all, he has been working steadily and stealthily at the task which saw its completion last night. So long as Nehal Singh stood on our side he could do nothing. The people believe Nehal to be an incarnation of Vishnu, and they will only follow where he leads. Behar knew that--probably he himself had fostered the idea. He guessed, probably, that one day Nehal Singh would turn from us. He waited. Last night I saw a face of devilish triumph which told its own tale. He had not waited in vain." Colonel Carmichael turned to Stafford and held out his hand. For the first time old friendship shone out of his eyes mingled with a fire of thirsty revenge. "You and I have a debt to pay before we die, Stafford," he said. Stafford's hand touched his coldly and powerlessly. "I have nothing against the Rajah," he said hoarsely. "I can not carry out a revenge against the son--" Colonel Carmichael interrupted him with a hard laugh. "They are all of a piece," he said. "Say what you will, Nicholson, Nehal Singh is a traitor. We were fools to trust him. We are always fools when we do not treat a native as a dangerous animal. They murder us for our silly, sentimental confidence." Nicholson bent down and, picking up the photograph, replaced it in his pocket. "Do you think so, Colonel?" he said significantly. "From, my experience I have learned that you can always trust a native. You can treat him as your friend and equal so long as the inequality is there and obvious to him. I mean, so long as in everything--in generosity, in courage, and in honor--he realizes that you are his superior." Colonel Carmichael's face darkened with anger. "Do you mean, perhaps, that--that we are not all that?" he demanded. "Surely not all of us. How many men think that any sort of conduct is good enough to show a native? What did Behar Singh see of our honor? He was our friend until an Englishman who had eaten and drunk his hospitality repaid him by a dishonorable theft. What has Nehal Singh seen of our superiority? In spite of his father's influence, he came to us prejudiced in our favor. He saw heroes in us all, and he trusted himself blindly in our hands. What has been the consequence? Look at yesterday's scene, as you have described it to me, Colonel. His best friend had proved himself a mean and treacherous swindler. The woman whom as I judge he regarded as a saint--forgive me, Stafford, I must be honest--no more than a heartless flirt, who had led him on from one folly to another for the sake of a little excitement--" "Rubbish!" Colonel Carmichael burst out. "What are exceptions in a whole race?"