The wily scoundrel shivered when the Major, with his left hand,
pushed over to him five sets of Bills of Exchange for a thousand
pounds each. Ram Lal's eyes dropped under the brave villain's
steady gaze, and he slowly read the first paper. He well knew the
drawer's writing:
DELHI, August 15, 1890.
L 1,000.
Thirty days after sight of this first of exchange (second and
third unpaid), pay to the order of Alan Hawke one thousand pounds
sterling, value received.
HUGH FRASER JOHNSTONE.
To Messrs. Glyn, Carr and Glyn, London.
"What do you wish me to do, Sahib?" tremblingly faltered the old
usurer, as he carefully noted the fifteen papers. A sinking at the
heart told him that he was in the power of the one man in India
whom he knew to be as merciless as himself, for a kindred spirit
had fled when the drawer of the Bills of Exchange died alone in the
dark, his bubbling shriek stopped by his heart's blood. The Major
sternly said in an icy voice, as he fixed his eyes full on his
victim:
"I wish you to indorse, every one of those papers. I wish you
to make each one of them read five thousand pounds. You have done
that trick very neatly before, and to put the additional Crown
duty stamps upon them." Ram Lal had started up, but he sank back
appalled as he looked down the barrel of Hawke's revolver.
"Keep silence or I'll put a ball through your shoulder, and then
drag you up to General Willoughby.
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