He still wore his evening clothes,
but he no longer looked smart. His glossy black hair was
dishevelled, and his handsome, olive face bore a hunted look.
Panic was betoken by twitching mouth and fear-bright eyes. He
stopped, glaring at his father, and:
"Why are you not gone?" asked the latter sternly. "Do you wish
to wreck me as well as yourself ?"
"The police have posted a man opposite Kwee's house. I cannot
get out that way."
"There was no one there when the boy was brought in."
"No, but there is now. Father!" He took a step forward. "I'm
trapped. They sha'n't take me. You won't let them take me?"
Zani Chada stirred not a muscle, but:
"To-night," he said, "your mad passion has brought ruin to both
of us. For the sake of a golden doll who is not worth the price
of the jewels she wears, you have placed yourself within reach of
the hangman."
"I was mad, I was mad," groaned the other.
"But I, who was sane, am involved in the consequences," retorted
his father.
"He will be silent at the price of the boy's life."
"He may be," returned Zani Chada. "I hate him, but he is a man.
Had you escaped, he might have consented to be silent. Once you
are arrested, nothing would silence him.
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