s was not for himself, not
for an instant. But he saw at once what the arch-rogues meant to do,
to put pressure upon his father through him. And Jack felt sick at
heart to think that he had won the thing he had longed for, that he
had gained his father's side, and yet he came only as an added
difficulty to a cruel situation.

"You have a son, I think, Mr. Haydon?" began Saya Chone again, in his
purring tones.

"How do you know that?" replied Thomas Haydon.

"Oh, we know many things," replied the half-caste lightly. "We have
even heard of your only son, Jack Haydon."

Mr. Haydon made no reply.

"You would, I suppose, be very unwilling to see any harm happen to
him?"

"Thank God!" cried Thomas Haydon fervently, "that, at any rate, is far
beyond your power. He is safe at home in England."

Again the mocking laughter burst out in redoubled volume until the
rafters rang again. The Ruby King and Saya Chone enjoyed their mirth
to the full, then the half-caste sprang to his feet, and pointed with
glittering eyes and laughing face to the soft white muslin veil.

"Look there! Thomas Haydon," he cried, "look there!"

CHAPTER XXXI.

FATHER AND SON.

Mr. Haydon turned his calm, steady eyes on the filmy curtain, but he
could see nothing. Then, as he gazed quietly at it, U Saw raised his
hand, and a deep booming note resounded from the gong. The full,
musical trembling of the note still rang through the room when an
unseen hand drew back the curtain, and the light of the lamps fell
full upon Jack.

Thomas Haydon stood for a moment with the wild, distraught look of one
who sees a sight altogether beyond belief or reason, then he made to
spring forward. But he was chained to the Kachins who stood upon
either side of him, and two more leapt forward from their posts by the
wall to check his movements. And again the mocking laughter of his
enemies filled the room.

But Thomas Haydon had neither eyes nor ears for them. He could only
stare and stare upon his son as if he found it impossible to believe
the evidence of his own sight. At last he spoke.

"Jack!" he said in a tone of wonder beyond all wonder, "Jack, is it
you?"

Jack could not reply, for the gag effectually checked his utterance,
but he nodded, and his eyes spoke for him.

"My son here," murmured Thomas Haydon again, and a bitter groan broke
from him. He could not restrain it; this last stroke was utterly
beyond all human endurance. When his son had