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CONFESSIONS OF A THUG.
my hands round your neck you will understand."
So I submitted with as good a grace as I could, though I did not at all like the idea. My blood ran cold through me as I felt his chill, clammy hands about my neck. But he did not hurt me, and I saw where my error had been. I tried it on him as he had shown me several times, and was declared at last to be perfect.
"Now you only want practice, Ameer Ali," said he.
"Inshalla! Roop Singh," I replied, "we shall have plenty of it. One beginning, and I fear not for the rest. Like a tiger, which, once having tasted human blood, will if possible take no other, and runs every risk to get it, so I feel it will be with me." And it was so. Sahib! I knew myself—I had spoken truly.
