quite as much as upon my revolver, for, innocent and inoffensive as it looked, it was capable of most deadly execution.  I had chosen it in preference to many other more pretentious weapons which had suggested themselves to me.  It consisted of a small, flexible steel wire hardly bigger than the blade of a foil, surmounted by a good-sized lead ball, and the whole covered with a closely woven fabric.  By grasping the cane by its lower end a tremendously heavy blow could be struck with the ball, and, if an attempt were made to shield the head by throwing up the arm, it was almost certain to fail of its object since the flexibility of the wire permitted it to bend about an obstruction until its loaded end was brought home.  You will perhaps think that, since I did not make use of this weapon, I need not have troubled myself to describe it.  Perhaps that is so, but, let me assure you, when I saw Ragobah, for it was he, glide behind that tree, and reflected how capable he was of every kind of treachery, I wouldn’t have parted with that cane for its weight in gold.  The Indian had pledged me to come alone and had promised to do likewise, but I felt any tree might conceal one of his minions, hired to assassinate me while he engaged my attention.  All this, of course, did not in the least affect my decision.  I had promised to go alone, and Miss Darrow’s interests required that I should keep my covenant.  I should have done so, even though I had known Ragobah meant to betray me.  I may as well, however, tell you at once that my suspicions wronged the fellow.  He had evidently taken his station behind a tree to satisfy himself, without exposure, that I meant to keep my promise and come alone.

When I reached the cave I found him awaiting me.  How he was able to get there before me passes my comprehension, but there he was.  He did not waste time, but addressed me at once, and, as my memory is excellent and our interview was short, I am able to give you an accurate report of what passed between us.  I copy it here just as I entered it in my notebook, immediately upon my return to the house.

“You naturally wish to know,” Ragobah began, “why I have sought this interview.  That is easily explained.  You have done me the honour, Sahib, for I feel it is such, to suspect me of the murder of John Darrow.  You have come here from America to fasten the crime upon me, and, from the bottom of my heart, I regret your failure to do so.  I would give everything I possess on earth, and would gladly suffer a life of torment, to be able truthfully to say:  ’I, Rama Ragobah, killed John Darrow.’  But despite all my efforts, I, wretch that I am, am innocent!  For more than twenty years I have had but one purpose,—­one thought,—­and that was to track down and slay John Darrow.  This desire consumed me.  It led me all over India in vain search for him.  For nineteen years I laboured incessantly, without discovering so much as a trace of him.  When