Cord and Creese Part 105

"Who?"

"The same man who killed my own father."

Vijal looked at Brandon with awful eyes.

"Your father had a brother?" said Brandon.

"Yes."

"Do you know his name?"

"Yes. Zangorri."

"Right. Well, do you know what Zangorri did to avenge his brother's death?"

"No; what?"

"For many years he vowed death to all Englishmen, since it was an Englishman who had caused the death of his brother. He had a s.h.i.+p; he got a crew and sailed through the Eastern seas, capturing English s.h.i.+ps and killing the crews. This was his vengeance." Vijal gave a groan.

"You see he has done more than you. He knew better than you who it was that had killed your father."

"Who was it?" cried Vijal, fiercely.

"I saw him twice," continued Brandon, without noticing the question, of the other. "I saw him twice, and twice he told me the name of the man whose death he sought. For year after year he had sought after that man, but had not found him. Hundreds of Englishmen had fallen. He told me the name of the man whom he sought, and charged me to carry out his work of vengeance. I promised to do so, for I had a work of vengeance of my own to perform, and on the same man, too.

"Who was he?" repeated Vijal, with increased excitement.

"When I saw him last he gave me something which he said he had worn around his neck for years. I took it, and promised to wear it till the vengeance which he sought should be accomplished. I did so for I too had a debt of vengeance stronger than his, and on the same man."

"Who was he?" cried Vijal again, with restless impetuosity.

Brandon unb.u.t.toned his vest and drew forth a Malay creese, which was hung around his neck and worn under his coat.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, solemnly.

Vijal took it and looked at it earnestly. His eyes dilated, his nostrils quivered.

"My father's!" he cried, in a tremulous voice.

"Can you read English letters?"

"Yes."

"Can you read the name that is cut upon it?"

And Brandon pointed to a place where some letters were carved.

Vijal looked earnestly at it. He saw these words:

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, disenc.u.mbering 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 a.s.sured 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 rea.s.sured.

"You are a good lad," said he, "a good lad. And you'll try again?"

"Yes," said Vijal, with flas.h.i.+ng 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?"