JOHN POTTS. “That,” said Brandon, “is what your father’s brother gave to me.” “It’s a lie!” growled Vijal, fiercely. “It’s true,” said Brandon, calmly, “and it was carved there by your father’s own hand.” Vijal said nothing for a long time. Brandon arose, and put his pistol in his pocket. Vijal, disencumbering himself from his horse, arose also. The two stood together on the road. For hours they remained there talking. At last Brandon remounted and rode on to Denton. But Vijal went back to the village of Brandon. He carried with him the creese which Brandon had given him. CHAPTER LVI. FATHER AND SON. Vijal, on going back to Brandon village, went first to the inn where he saw John. To the inquiries which were eagerly addressed to him he answered nothing, but simply said that he wished to see Potts. John, finding him impracticable, cursed him and led the way to the bank. As Vijal entered Potts locked the door carefully, and then anxiously questioned him. Vijal gave a plain account of every thing exactly as it had happened, but with some important alterations and omissions. In the first place, he said nothing whatever of the long interview which had taken place and the startling information which he had received. In the second place, he assured Potts that he must have attacked the wrong man. For when this man had spared his life he looked at him closely and found out that he was not the one that he ought to have attacked. “You blasted fool,” cried Potts. “Haven’t you got eyes? D--n you; I wish the fellow, whoever he is, had seized you, or blown your brains out.” Vijal cast down his eyes humbly. “I can try again,” said he. “I have made a mistake this time; the next time I will make sure.” There was something in the tone of his voice so remorseless and so vengeful that Potts felt reassured. “You are a good lad,” said he, “a good lad. And you’ll try again?” “Yes,” said Vijal, with flashing eyes. “You’ll make sure this time?” “I’ll make sure this time. But I must have some one with me,” he continued. “You need not trouble yourself. Send John with me. He won’t mistake. If he is with me I’ll make sure.” As the Malay said this a brighter and more vivid flash shone from his eyes. He gave a malevolent smile, and his white teeth glistened balefully. Instantly he checked the smile, and cast down his eyes. “Ah!” said Potts. “That is very good. John shall go. Johnnie, you don’t mind going, do you?” “I’ll go,” said John, languidly. “You’ll know the fellow, won’t you?” “I rather think I should.” “But what will you do first?” “Go to Denton,” said John. “To Denton?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because Brandon is there.” “How can he be?”