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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34813-8.txt b/34813-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca578b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/34813-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12130 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Caravans By Night, by Harry Hervey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Caravans By Night + A Romance of India + +Author: Harry Hervey + +Release Date: January 1, 2011 [EBook #34813] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARAVANS BY NIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Caravans By Night + + A ROMANCE OF INDIA + + BY HARRY HERVEY + + + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + Made in the United States of America + + Copyright, 1922, by + + THE CENTURY CO. + + PRINTED IN U. S. A. + + "... Weave me a tale of Romance + and Adventure--weave it on the loom of + Asia; fine threads in the shuttle ... + that we who only read may feel the glare + and glamour of those spicy, sweating + cities; may feel the sheer spell of the stars + and the far spaces at dusk ..." + + THIS WORD-TAPESTRY IS WOVEN FOR + MY MOTHER + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I THE EDGE OF THE RIPPLE + +II DELHI + +III A PIECE OF CORAL + +IV HOUSE OF THE SWAYING COBRA + +V INTERLUDE + +VI HSIEN SGAM + +VII THE VERMILION ROOM + +VIII "BEYOND THE MOON" + +IX FEVER + +X CARAVAN + +XI CITY OF THE FALCON + +XII LHAKANG-GOMPA + +XIII FALCON'S NEST + +XIV GYANGTSE + + + + +CARAVANS BY NIGHT + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE EDGE OF THE RIPPLE + + +If you go to the Great Bazaar, which lies west of the Old Palace at +Indore, you will see him sitting upon a cushion in his alcove-like shop, +a very magnificent figure in flowing robes and gold-edged turban. + +You will find him busy, whether you visit the bazaar in mid-morning or +in the afternoon; or even after sunset, when lamps embroider the +lacework of lanes and alleys. + +He is an amiable fellow and he will talk for hours--of silks, of jewels +(for in those luxuries he deals), or still more eloquently of Peshawar, +where the blue peaks of the Hindu Kush let their lips caress the sky as +though it were the cheek of some siren. But mention the barbarian with +corn-colored hair, or the blue-eyed Punjabi, and he will suddenly become +as uncommunicative as the tongueless _fakir_ who sits before the Anna +Chuttra and mutely pleads for alms. + +For once, at a time not long past, a mysterious hand reached out of +nowhere and touched him with two equally as mysterious fingers. The +barbarian with corn-colored hair was one finger, the blue-eyed Punjabi +the other. And as swiftly, as inexplicably, as it came, this hand +withdrew--but not without leaving its mark upon the memory of Muhafiz +Ali, merchant and loyal servant of the Raj. + +For ten years before that day when he felt the first impelling wave of +intrigue his shop was a haunt for tourists and wealthy residents; for +ten years he divided his days between salaaming to customers, cooking +his meals over a cow-dung fire in the rear, and staring across the +roadway with visible contempt at his despised rival, Venekiah, the +Brahmin. For all those years Muhafiz Ali had hated Venekiah as only a +Mussulman can hate one who wears the trident of Vishnu painted on his +forehead. But of late there was another sore that festered deep in his +heart and hour by hour fed his rancor with poison. His one son had dared +the horrors of an unknown sea (oh, a thousand times larger than Back +Bay, Bombay, the only water Muhafiz Ali can offer by way of comparison) +on a troop-ship, and in a strange country, where monstrous metal things +howled destruction and death, the parts of his only-born were buried--by +Christian hands and in a Christian grave!... While Venekiah's son, who +never stirred from the bazaar when the sounds of India responding to the +Sirkar's call rumbled from Kabul down to the Gulf of Manaar, lived and +walked the streets to talk Swaraj and curse the Sirkar and everything +bred of the Sirkar! + +Muhafiz Ali came from the North, from Peshawar, and the sultry, +throbbing heat of Central India dried up the life in his veins. He +longed for the sight of his brother-hillmen swaggering through the +Bokhara Bazaar, at Peshawar; for the smell of camels (perfume to a +Peshawari) clinging to the chilly dusk. He hoped some day to have enough +rupees to board one of those terrifying, though thoroughly convenient, +iron demons that he frequently saw panting in the railway station and +ride back to Peshawar, where he would dwell for the rest of his earthly +days in a house with a garden and an azure-necked peacock that strutted +and shrilled like an angry Rajput. + +Meanwhile, to this end he sat daily in his shop, not shrieking at +prospective customers with "Please buy my nicklass!" like that offspring +of the sewer across the way, but waiting with the dignity befitting a +son of the Prophet for those who came to buy. And many came. For the +fame of his silks (bales from Bokhara frail as spun moonlight and the +raw sheeny stuff from Samarkand) had spread through the Residency and +haunted every Memsahib and Ladyship who once allowed herself to be +enticed into his felt-floored treasure-room. + +But his fame lay not only in silks. In formidable chests in the inner +room were many necklaces and ornaments--stones precious and +semi-precious, and even paste. He was a lapidary and had once served in +the establishment of a great jeweller in Delhi. It required but a single +glance for him to find the matrix in falsely beautiful gems, or to +appraise any sort of stone from diamonds down to chalcedony. Even his +Highness the Maharajah had heard of his skill in cutting and setting +jewels, and on two occasions had given him commissions. + +On this particular day when the mysterious hand was very close, and +Destiny had placed a chalk-mark upon a certain young woman and an +officer of the empire, his hatred for Venekiah swelled to such +proportions that it included every one; it quivered against the walls of +his being, hot as the Indian sun that throughout the noonday blazed +above the sweltering bazaar. Nor did his rage cool when, toward sundown, +lilac shadows lounged in the street and a hundred-hued swarm jostled by. + +The cause of his anger was a Sulaimaneh ring, which he wore at all +times. Now it is an established fact in the social orbit in which +Muhafiz Ali revolved that these onyx stones will repel devils; +therefore, to lose such a talisman is to invite misfortune. And Muhafiz +Ali had lost his Sulaimaneh ring. Furthermore, he suspected that his +enemy, Venekiah, had stolen it from his finger while he slept--although +for a Brahmin to touch a Mussulman is to defile himself. Yet he felt +that that heap of offal, to speak in the vernacular of the bazaars, +would suffer contamination to see him at the mercy of devils. + +So he sat and glared, and swore all manner of Moslem oaths under his +beard, and stopped hating only long enough to look toward the kindling +west beyond which Mecca lay, and prostrate himself on a rug for evening +prayer. + +As he lifted his eyes they encountered a Sahib with corn-colored hair +and beard; a Sahib who stood not a yard away; who fanned himself with a +pith-helmet, and looked upon the Mussulman's religious performances with +a slightly cynical smile. + +He was handsome, as these white unbelievers go, observed Muhafiz Ali. +The eyes smiled with the assurance of one who knows a lot and is aware +of his wisdom. Rather reckless eyes. His skin was tanned and the light +hair and beard (beard because the word "Van Dyke" is not in Muhafiz +Ali's vocabulary) made it more pronounced. White linens completed the +picture. + +Muhafiz Ali, his rage dissolving, salaamed. + +"You're Muhafiz Ali, the lapidary?" + +The Mussulman detected in his speech a flaw that suggested he was not an +English Sahib; probably American, or from one of those numerous +countries behind the sunset, of which he had heard little and knew less. + +"Not only a jeweller, Sahib," he returned, for he spoke English +fluently, "but a dealer in silks, rugs--" + +But the man brushed past him and entered the inner room. Muhafiz Ali +rose and clattered after him in his loose Mohammedan slippers. + +"Do you have jade?" asked the sahib. + +For answer Muhafiz Ali lifted the lid of a brass-bound chest and drew +forth a tray of necklaces--lustrous, creamy-green jade from Mirzapore. + +"Not that kind," said the sahib, with a gesture (and had Muhafiz Ali +known the meaning of the word, "Gallic" he would have applied it to that +quick wave of the hand); "the clear sort." + +Whereupon the Mussulman separated a string of genuine _fei tsui_ from +several necklaces in another tray. The stones glowed deep parrot-green. + +"Ah!" This from the white man. "Do you have pearls, too--imitation +pearls?" + +Muhafiz Ali, somewhat disappointed, produced a necklace of his finest +false pearls, and the sahib examined it with the air of one who knew the +difference between the nacreous sea-jewel and blown spheres of _essence +d' Orient_. + +"Are you alone?" was his next question. + +"Alone?" echoed Muhafiz Ali. "Alas, O worthy lordship, my son, my +only--" + +"No, no!"--with that quick gesture and a significant look toward the +rear door. "I mean, is there any one in the back of the shop?" + +"Nay, Sahib!" + +A germ of suspicion took birth in Muhafiz Ali's brain. What did this +foreigner want? + +"You have done work for his Highness the Maharajah, I understand," said +the sahib, his eyes glittering like black chalcedony. "You re-set +several necklaces, and ... you made a copy of the Pearl Scarf ... for, +well, for state purposes--didn't you?" + +Muhafiz Ali answered in the affirmative, still suspicious. The sahib +glanced over his shoulder into the swiftly gathering dusk. + +"Could you make another copy, using stones like this?" + +For some inexplicable reason Muhafiz Ali felt frightened. The eyes that +looked so incisively into his did not match the young face. He had seen +the same expression, only more intense, in the eyes of a mad _mollah_. + +"Could you?" pressed the sahib, "or, rather, _would_ you? For an extra +gift of thirty rupees?" + +Thirty rupees! Muhafiz Ali's commercial instincts led him into +planning.... But the Pearl Scarf. Why did he want a copy? The germ of +suspicion grew and multiplied. + +"Nay, Sahib!" he answered, his better judgment outbalancing the desire +for money. "I do not remember how." + +"That's a pretty lie," interposed the man, with a laugh--a laugh that +carried a cold undercurrent and made Muhafiz Ali shudder, inwardly. "You +know the exact number of pearls in the scarf and how they are arranged; +nine strands; with eighteen pearls in the neck-piece-clasp, each having +a carat diamond inset in it. Come now--I will raise the extra amount to +thirty-five rupees." + +Thirty-five! The Mussulman's imagination took wings. He saw himself +coming into what was to him fabulous wealth. + +"The pattern is intricate, Sahib," he said doubtfully. + +"I'll risk it." Again that laugh. + +Muhafiz Ali felt vaguely nervous. "I will have to think it over, Sahib," +he announced. + +What did he want with a copy of the Pearl Scarf? That query threaded +back and forth across his thoughts. + +"I am in the service of the Raj," the man confided quietly, as though +answering the native's thoughts--confided a shade too darkly. "The Raj +wants a copy of it--oh, for reasons...." + +Ah! Muhafiz Ali understood now. The Raj! This handsome sahib was of that +invisible army that comes and goes so mysteriously from Afghanistan to +Ceylon. + +"It is, O fountain of wisdom," he declared, with a sly wink, "as though +I stepped from the dark into the light of the sun!" He motioned toward +the door, through which Venekiah, seated across the way, could be seen. +"I shall be as mute as the six-armed she-devil that yonder louse +worships!" + +There was a humorous gleam in the white man's eyes. + +"Excellent! Make your price and come to me at the dâk bungalow at eight +o'clock to-night. Bring a few necklaces for effect. I will be on the +veranda. My name is Leroux Sahib." + +He tossed several rupees upon one of the chests, and turned and went +out. + +Muhafiz Ali, reflecting that Allah looked with favor upon him, gathered +up the coins. And this, after he had lost the Sulaimaneh ring! Pah! +Ill-fortune, indeed! He scoffed. + +He was so pleased that, a few minutes later, when a blue-eyed Punjabi +inquired the price of a string of _ferozees_, he did not haggle over it +but sacrificed the necklace for exactly what it was worth. + +"Eight o'clock," he repeated to himself. And his own price. He was a +loyal servant of the Raj, yes; but that did not in any way affect his +intention to charge the Raj well for his services. + +He looked toward the shop of Venekiah. + +"Brahmin dog!" he hissed in his beard. "Breeder of whelps!" + +And he spat eloquently. + + +2 + +Night wove its shuttle across the sky, beading the dusk with stars. The +Southern Cross lay mirrored in the Sarasvati and the Khan, and in the +lake at Sukhnewás; it pulsed above the gardens of Lal Bagh, above +Sharifa Street and those other narrow highways that vein the Holkar's +capital; it peered down inquisitively into the gloom of the Great Bazaar +as Muhafiz Ali, having finished a meal of curry and rice, quitted his +shop and hurried toward the dâk bungalow. + +That this Leroux Sahib had commissioned him to copy a jewel-pattern of +the Maharajah's regalia no longer presaged evil in his mind. Nor did he +seek an explanation. True, it mystified him. But there were some things +one should not know. And, to him, the secrets of the Government were +numbered among these. The Raj had banished the old order of things, for +no more did princes sit in golden howdahs upon caparisoned state +elephants; nor did they indulge, as of old, in the venerable pastime of +pigsticking; they rode in automobiles and played a game on horseback +with an absurd ball.... + +Muhafiz Ali had ceased long ago to wonder at the baffling mechanism of +the Government, and satisfied himself with the assurance that Allah did +not intend he should understand. + +So Raj meant Riddle. + + * * * * * + +When he reached the dâk bungalow he found Leroux Sahib sitting upon the +veranda. The white man led him inside. + +"Well?"--this with a gleam of the black eyes. + +"I will do it, O cherisher of the poor." + +"The price?" The Mussulman named an outrageous figure--and held his +breath. The man inquired: + +"How long will it take?" + +"Seven days; perhaps less." + +The sahib frowned, tugged at his yellow beard. + +"I must have it in five days." + +"Impossible, O Burra Sahib!" A pause. "Unless--of course--" + +A smile. "Not another rupee do you get, you old brigand!" he declared +good humoredly. "And five days, I say. Settled? Thirty-five rupees extra +when it is done, half the price in advance." + +He drew from his pocket a wallet and counted out a number of Government +of India notes. + +"Remember, this is to be quiet," he cautioned. "I will call now and then +to see how you are coming on." + + * * * * * + +As Muhafiz Ali made his way back to the bazaar, he congratulated himself +upon getting so easily the price he had set upon the work, and regretted +that he had not inflated it a little more. However, he was well pleased +with the day's business. He paused once on the homeward journey to place +a four-anna bit in the bowl of an emaciated, ash-painted _fakir_ who sat +before the alms-house, and arrived at his shop in a state of excellent +spirits. + +He made a light and opened the chest in which he kept his necklaces. The +instant he saw the top tray he detected a flaw. Unlike most merchants, +he was very careful in the arrangement of his necklaces; in one tray +were agates, in another blue sapphires; thus with all his beads. + +And a string of creamy-luster Mirzapore jade lay in the tray with the +clear, deep-green _fei tsui_. + +A cold suspicion uncoiled in his brain. He stood motionless. This could +mean but one thing: some one had entered his shop while he was away. He +quickly counted the necklaces. None were missing. Nor did a hasty +inventory of the lower tray show that anything had been removed. The +other chests were under the protection of European padlocks. + +Who had entered his shop, and why? Nothing had been stolen. The door was +locked.... But the rear! Ah! The court! Why had he not thought to +barricade that also against thieves? But had a thief disturbed the +beads? A thief would have taken them. After all, was not it possible +that he had placed the necklaces in the wrong tray? Possible, but not +probable. No, he was certain a hand other than his own had dropped the +jade from Mirzapore in with the _fei tsui_ stones. + +Yet, he told himself, he had not been robbed. So why be uneasy? But he +could not rid himself of the uncanny suspicion that devil-business was +afoot. He would feel more secure had he not lost the Sulaimaneh ring. + +Upon an impulse he went to the door and peered into the street. The shop +of Venekiah, the Brahmin, was dark. From a nautch-house close by came +the muffled throbbing of tom-toms--a restless pulse of the night. A man +in a Punjabi head-dress lounged under a rheumy incandescent further +along the dim street. + +Muhafiz Ali turned back, gravely troubled. He locked the door. + +Of a certainty devil-business was afoot. + + +3 + +A film of dust wavered over the bazaar and introduced a drowsy golden +effect into the mid-afternoon atmosphere. Few human beings ventured +forth in the glare. A half-naked _bhisti_ splashed water over the dusty +roadway; at one corner a street-juggler sat with a torpid python coiled +in his lap. + +Muhafiz Ali, absorbed in utter languor, squatted upon a brocade of light +and shadow woven by the sunlight that filtered through the dust-laden +leaves of a tree outside his doorway and watched a green-bronze lizard +drowsing upon the flagstones. The slumberous atmosphere of the bazaar, +the mingled odors of fruit, fish and cologne, held no portent of the +thunderbolt that very shortly was to jar Muhafiz Ali out of his peaceful +sphere. + +Five days had passed since he visited Leroux Sahib at the dâk bungalow. +The copy of the Pearl Scarf was finished; it lay in a chest in the inner +room. He had despatched the son of Khurrum Lal, the fruit vender, with a +_chit_ to the sahib telling him this, and the sahib had answered that he +could call after nightfall. + +Muhafiz Ali felt singularly relieved. For the past few days the +Mohammedan equivalent of the sword of Damocles had hung over his head. +The white man had called several times, and on each occasion the sight +of him reassured Muhafiz Ali, but after his departure the native +invariably relapsed into a state of nervous anticipation. + +Now it was done. To-night the sahib would call and he, Muhafiz Ali, +would settle back into an untroubled existence--many rupees the better. +He felt peace upon him already. So he sat in the doorway of his shop and +contemplated the green-bronze lizard, and breathed, almost with relish, +the mingled odors of fruit and fish and cologne. + +Muhafiz Ali had in him the makings of a psychic. He anticipated +happenings with amazing accuracy. Therefore, when a shadow fell upon the +roadway in front of him and he looked up to see Mohammed Khan, the money +lender, he felt a pall descend upon him. Mohammed Khan, bearded and +turbaned to exaggeration, frequently came to indulge in bazaar gossip. +With a word of greeting, he sank upon the doorstep beside his +brother-Mussulman. + +He had startling news this day. Sadar Singh, who belonged to the Indian +Escort of the Agent, had come to pay the fifteen rupees he owed him, and +Sadar Singh, who never lied, had that very morning heard the Residency +Surgeon talking with the Commissioner Sahib. The substance of their +conversation was that there had been a robbery at the palace. The vaults +had been looted of the state treasures. The famous Peacock Turban was +stolen.... And _the Pearl Scarf_. + +Muhafiz Ali's brain did not function normally for some time after this +announcement. He felt frightened--nauseated. + +The Pearl Scarf stolen. Suppose the copy was found in his possession, +and the police, who had strange ways, connected him with the robbery? +The house in Peshawar dwindled; he saw the jail looming before him. He +was innocent, but how could he explain? + +He remembered vividly the incident of the jade necklace. Could it be +that Venekiah, that mountain of corruption, had spied upon him?... O +Allah, Allah, he wailed in silence, it was written that his lot should +be misfortune from the moment he lost the Sulaimaneh ring! + +Inwardly, he writhed while Mohammed Khan talked on. He was in no mood +for more gossip, but Mohammed Khan stayed--stayed until late afternoon +when little spirals of dust began to rise from the street, when clouds +materialized out of nowhere and blotted out the sun. + +After Mohammed Khan took his leave, Muhafiz Ali tried to reason with +himself. The sahib had said the scarf was for the Raj, and was not that +assurance enough? No. And he strove to press behind the veil and find an +explanation for the affair; but his Kismet decreed that he should be a +pawn, and he dug at the mystery in vain. + +A dark sky, threatening rain, hastened the dusk; and when, one by one, +lights appeared in the street, like yellow sentinels, Muhafiz Ali +uttered a sigh of relief and rose and entered the shop. A moment later +he heard a soft patter and inhaled the fresh, cool smell of rain upon +dusty air. + +"Please buy my nicklass!" shrilled Venekiah's voice, and he looked over +his shoulder to see a Memsahib clatter by on horseback. + +Behind her walked a man in a Punjabi head-dress, swinging along at a +leisurely gait despite the rain. + + +4 + +The usual heavy downpour following a break in the monsoon drenched the +bazaar. It came with a high wind, and doors strained at their locks and +windows rattled as legions of rain rode through the streets. The torrent +rumbled upon tin roofs and roofs of corrugated iron; reduced the dust in +alleys to mud; lashed the thirsty, sun-scorched trees. + +Muhafiz Ali sat on a cushion in the inner room of his shop with a copy +of the Koran open in his lap, more intent upon the eerie sounds than the +book. Frequently his eyes left the pages and sought the door as gusts of +wind smote its panels, and when sudden draughts made the lamp-flame +flicker and sent the shadows shuddering over the walls, a chill dread +spread through him. Not until that accursed thing of imitations had been +taken away would he feel safe. Surely the devils were hard besetting him +for losing the Sulaimaneh ring! + +The door shook--as though impatient with the lock and hinges that held +it. Outside, the storm wrung wails and groans from the bazaar. Again the +door rattled, furiously. + +Muhafiz Ali set aside the book, rose and crossed the room. He unlocked +the door. A spray was blown into his face. No one was there. Rain poured +over the street-lamps in gauzy, iridescent ribbons; it wove spumy lace +upon the black roadway and trailed, fuming, into the gutters. + +He shut the door and locked it. He had taken no more than two steps +before a pounding brought him to a halt. He stood there for a moment, +tense; then turned and pressed his lips to the crack of the door. + +"Leroux Sahib?" + +Faintly, from out the chaos of sounds, came--"Yes." + +He turned the key. The door opened violently and slammed behind the +drenched figure of the yellow-bearded sahib. Water dripped from his +helmet; streams of moisture trickled down his rain-cape and gathered in +pools upon the floor. + +"Allah be praised!" Muhafiz Ali murmured fervently. + +Leroux Sahib flung aside his cape, and the native saw that he carried a +flat package under one arm. The white man shook the water from his +helmet and mopped his face with a khaki handkerchief. + +"Mother of God! What a night!" he exclaimed, smiling grimly. Then: "Is +it ready?" + +Muhafiz Ali hastily opened one of his chests and removed several trays. +The sahib joined him. His eyes shone feverishly as the Mussulman drew +forth a thing that tinkled musically. Strands of nacreous spheres +reflected a soft radiance from the lamp; luster of cream-colored satin. +The imitation diamonds that inset the clasp burned like star-splinters. + +Leroux Sahib swore under his breath and chuckled; swore in a tongue +Muhafiz Ali did not understand. + +"What a joke! What a colossal joke! And they think it is for them.... +_Bon Dieu!_" + +The door rattled; the lamp-flame rippled threateningly. + +"I shall place it in a tin box, Sahib," Muhafiz Ali said, for the sooner +the thing was gone the sooner he would feel at ease. "See, a box no +larger than the one you carry." + +He moved the lid. Pearls rattled coolly. Meanwhile, the sahib counted +out several banknotes. + +"Count them," he instructed as Muhafiz Ali handed him the tin box, +wrapped and tied. + +The Mussulman obeyed. The door shook again. A sudden burst of wind +almost carried the notes out of his hand. The lamp gasped. A slam +followed. + +Muhafiz Ali looked up quickly to behold a strange tableau--a tableau +that for the while suspended all thoughts from his brain and drew from +his limbs the power to move. + +A man had entered--a blue-eyed Punjabi. The face was vaguely familiar, +and Muhafiz Ali's memory groped.... A string of _ferozees_.... The +Punjabi stood with his shoulders pressed against the door, his feet +planted wide apart. His soaked garments clung to his body; his turban +dripped water into his eyes. But that did not quench the fire in them. +How they burned! Blue sapphires! In his hand he held a thing that +glittered like an evil eye. + +Leroux Sahib had swung about. His feet, too, were planted well apart, as +though he were steadying himself for an impact. The muscles of his +throat stood out like white cords in the shadow of his beard. There was +a hard gleam in his eyes; more than ever they resembled black +chalcedony. + +Afterward, Muhafiz Ali never quite remembered how it all happened. At +the time he was too stupefied to observe details. The blue-eyed Punjabi +laughed. It was a challenge. Leroux Sahib, suddenly smiling, answered +it; lunged toward the lamp. The ring of shattered glass--and darkness +wiped out the scene. Followed the thudding jar of muscle and bone +against yielding flesh; swift, staccato breathing. The door was flung +wide. Muhafiz Ali, crouching in a corner, saw a figure faintly +silhouetted in the door-frame, an amorphous shadow upon the paler +darkness of the street. It vanished. Another figure lurched out after +it, and was swallowed by the storm. + +Energy flashed into the Mussulman. He ran to the door. The incandescent +lamps gleamed through a crystal curtain of rain. The street was +deserted. For a moment he stood there, shivering. Then he shut the door; +locked it; lay weakly against the panels. When he had recovered, he +groped his way to where he knew a lantern hung. He lighted it, and a +mellow radiance played upon bits of broken glass. + +He rapidly counted the banknotes. Satisfied, he returned to the door and +pressed his ear to the crack. Only the slush and drench of rain. He +shivered again. + +Whither had they gone, this Leroux Sahib and the blue-eyed Punjabi? +Their eyes! Black chalcedony and blue sapphires! The Punjabi had a +pistol.... Over imitation pearls! Strange were the ways of these white +barbarians, stranger still the ways of the Raj. On the morrow would the +police come and ask him all manner of confusing questions? Or had the +hurricane spent itself? Was this the last he would ever see of the +yellow-haired Sahib or the Punjabi? + +He turned back, looking half abstractedly upon the gleaming particles of +glass. He shivered for the third time. Devil-business! + + * * * * * + +And so the gods, having no further use for Muhafiz Ali, merchant and +loyal servant of the Raj, left him to wonder at the source of these +ripples that had touched him; left him to grope behind the drop that had +suddenly fallen upon this bewildering interlude; left him to dream of +the house in Peshawar and the azure-necked peacock that strutted and +shrilled like an angry Rajput. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +DELHI + + +Several days after Muhafiz All delivered the imitation Pearl Scarf to +the sahib in Indore, the young woman who was marked of Destiny sat in a +first-class carriage of the East Indian Railway, her attention divided +between a green vellum volume propped against a gray-clad knee and the +sun-blistered scenery that unreeled past the window. + +An elderly gentleman from Devonshire who occupied the same carriage +found himself wondering why his eyes invariably returned to the girl. +This particular gentleman was past youthful sentimentalizing and not yet +in those riper years when age casts regretful glances over its shoulder; +therefore, being no psychometric, it puzzled him that this girl should +compel his gaze. Was it the hair, in whose bronzen waves a slantwise ray +of sunlight ignited little glints of red-gold? Or the white throat, full +with young maturity? Suddenly she looked up, and he fathomed the secret +of magnetism. Brown eyes that brought to mind a deep, rich wine held to +the light--or poplar leaves just before snow. He felt something of +cathedral-largeness behind those eyes, something vital and alive yet +intensely spiritual. The warm strength of sunlight in great forests; +tapers in altar-gloom. These things were there. And the gentleman from +Devonshire thought of a daughter in Britain and smiled to himself, and +forgot hot, heart-aching India. + +The lights which he had glimpsed in the girl's eyes were the very +beacons that had drawn her across leagues of water--lights that were +first kindled in some voyaging ancestor whose frigate dropped anchor off +old New Orleans, in the gilded days of Bienville; that grew dim in the +tiresome process of heredity, and flamed anew, generations later, in +this girl who sat in the railway carriage--lights that were almost +smothered by the snuffers of Aristocracy and Tradition. + +For Dana Charteris came of a Louisiana family whose name was as old as +the state itself, and who lived in a great, pillared house and had black +servants and drank blacker coffee. Custom and pride and chivalry were +the goddesses of the family penetralia, and debt maintained the +vestal-fires. Her father was called "Colonel" for the same reason that +no less than one third of the gentlemen of his plane were given that +title. Her mother, who carried an air of fragrant and faded aristocracy, +read Cable and regarded him as some subaltern's wives in India regarded +Kipling. And her brother, Alan--Dana hardly knew Alan. When his name was +spoken in the house, it was in a hushed voice. They called him "black +sheep," but Dana could never associate dark fleece with the slim boy she +remembered. Alan ran away when little more than fifteen--ran away to +sail the Seven Seas and to find the end of the rainbow. Every few months +letters came from him, bearing post-marks that were, to her, stamps of +glamour. + +In her eyes her brother wore the mantle of Jason. He rambled in all +manner of weird places in his quest for the golden prize. This, while +she grew in an atmosphere of sweetly-musty traditions! Before she went +off to boarding-school her days were divided between the piano, paddling +indolently in warm bayous--sometimes alone, sometimes not--and riding a +black mare. But in the quiet, breathless nights when an army of stars +thronged the sky, and from down the river came the soft crooning of a +Creole song, she dreamed of enchanted lands beyond the horizon. + +But the voyaging ancestor and the argonaut-brother were only partly +responsible for her unrest. There was Tante Lucie, down in New Orleans. +(Tante Lucie, who made one think of star-jasmines and all the romantic +things that aura the Old South.) She had stories to tell, for a +lover-husband had taken her adventuring. She had seen the Shwe Dagon and +looked upon the Taj by moonlight. Her lover-husband was only a memory, +as were the temple and the Tomb; but she loved to talk of them, sitting +in her little court where the perfume of magnolias swam in the air. + +Dana's father died just before her eighteenth birthday. In the years +following, her mother no longer read Cable; she sat and dreamed of her +argonaut-son and of the "Colonel." And Dana almost stifled her desire to +cross the seas. For ominous sounds disturbed the quiet of Bayou +Latouche; there were bandages to be made and books and boxes to be +shipped to camps. During that period the letters from Alan were +infrequent and from Mesopotamia. + +But the interlude of khaki passed, and Bayou Latouche sank back into its +stupor. Again in the starry silences Dana listened to the crooning of +Creole songs down by the river and dreamed of a world beyond the dawns +and dusks. She was alone then; her mother went during the interlude, and +Tante Lucie no longer sat in her court and talked of foreign lands. +There were no ties; except money, as always. To keep up the house she +taught music. + +Then, one day, she heard from Alan. Burma, this time. He held a post +with the Inspector of Police at Rangoon. He had a bungalow in the +cantonment, he said, and any number of servants to wait on her, if she +would sell the house at Bayou Latouche and come to him. In a short time +he would have a "leave." They could meet in Calcutta and "do" India +together. + +India--together! Those words opened the dream-portals. After she read +the letter she consulted a mirror and told herself that she was +twenty-three and already in demand as a chaperone for the younger set. +She went into the library and stood before the portraits of her father +and her mother. She cried. And then, aware that the shades of the +Charteris family had stern gazes fixed upon her, she sent a cablegram to +Alan. + +Once aboard the great ship, she felt no regrets; to look back upon the +great, pillared house was like lifting the lid of a rose-jar: it brought +the fragrance of things very old and very faded. When she reached +Calcutta, a young captain met her at Chandpal Ghat. He had a note from +Alan. It explained that an urgent matter had taken him to Indore; he +begged her to forgive him for not meeting her, but assured her she was +in good hands. The second day in Calcutta she received a telegram from +him. + +"Meet me Delhi Friday," it ran. "Take express. Plan trip to Khyber." + +To the Khyber!... She left Calcutta that same day, and now, after a long +journey through the prickly-hot United Provinces, she was speeding into +the North. India, with its contrasts of filth and grandeur, had not +tarnished under the touch of reality; the nearest she came to +disillusion was in smoky, modern Calcutta. Now Tundla Junction lay +behind in a shimmering heat-haze; ahead, beyond the roaring, sweating +engine, was Delhi--Delhi, key to perished dynasties. + +The engine's whistle shrieked. It sent a charge of excitement through +her and she looked eagerly out of the window. Iron wheels rumbled across +a bridge. Another shriek of the whistle. Brakes screamed, and the train +drew up, panting, in the clamor and writhing heat of the railway +station. + +The gentleman from Devonshire opened the carriage door, and Dana, a grip +in each hand, her heart fluttering against her breast, smiled at him and +stepped into a torrid swarm. Her eyes searched the crowd. What would he +look like? Suppose she did not recognize him! Vaguely nervous, yet +happy, she allowed herself to be carried with the human surge. + +"Hello, there!" said a voice in her ear, and she turned quickly to look +into a clean-shaven tanned face. (And the gentleman from Devonshire, who +was passing, saw the brown eyes acquire a deeper, richer glow.) + +"Alan!" + +He was tall and slim, and the eyes that looked into hers were intensely +blue, the blue of sapphires.... The same boy, she told herself joyously, +only more tanned and grown-up! + +"Oh, Alan!" she gasped, as he held her at arm's-length, despite the +crowd, then drew her to him and kissed her. + +"Great Lord, how you've grown!" he exclaimed. + +She remembered saying something about not being a little girl always; +remembered being led through the throng. Then they were in the street. +Heat and noise and colorful confusion. + +"I've reserved rooms at a quiet place beyond the Kashmir Gate," he told +her as he helped her into a carriage. "From the terrace outside your +room you can look upon the battlements and the river." Then, with +another smile, "I can't believe it's you! Why, you're positively +beautiful! Lord, it seems a century, a whole century, since I was in +Bayou Latouche!" + +He removed his topi as they wheeled off and she saw that his hair was +shot with gray above the temples. They seemed so absurd, those gray +hairs. And how his eyes lighted when he spoke of Bayou Latouche! She +realized suddenly, with a tightening of the cords in her throat, that +the search for the golden fleece hadn't been all pleasant. In his voice, +in his face and manner, was a thirst for home-talk. She understood how +he needed her, there in his bungalow in Rangoon. + +"Bayou Latouche is just the same," she said, placing her hand upon his. +(She spoke with a faintly slurring accent that was unmistakable.) +"Except, of course, so many have gone ... the war...." Pause. "I don't +believe you've changed a bit, Alan--you're like that last picture you +had taken before you left. Mother--how she adored you! If you could have +seen the way she looked at that picture! Father, too." + +He smiled soberly. She could see her father in certain of his features. +A sudden fierce joy of possession ran through her. He was hers, this +bronzed brother! + +"I'm glad you've come, Dana." This solemnly. "It's been rather lonely +out here. You know the climate has a way, once it gets a hold, of +sapping up the energy and mummifying a fellow before his time." + +Her hand closed tighter about his. "And there hasn't been a girl, Alan?" + +He smiled. "You're the only one, Dana.... I was sorry I wasn't in +Calcutta when you landed, but this game of sleuthing has its unexpected +twists. That's why I like it. Nothing very exciting ever really happens; +it's usually humdrum thievery and dacoity. A French rogue put in his +appearance in Rangoon about a month or so ago--an international +character; only goes in for big loot. Don't know where he was before he +turned up in Rangoon, but he vanished as queerly as he'd come. The day I +reached Calcutta I was in the station and I recognized him. He'd +peroxided his beard and hair! Heard him ask for a ticket to Indore, and +I scented trouble in the wind. Of course, I should have had him arrested +there, but I wanted to see what he was up to. I left the note with +Bellingrath and took the next train." + +Adventure! And he was talking of it in a matter-of-fact way! + +"You caught him?" she urged. + +"Has anybody ever caught Chavigny? No, he slipped through the net. And +the nerve of him! He had letters to the Maharajah and the Agent! Used +the name of Leroux. I dressed up in a Punjabi's garb--wanted to snoop +around without arousing suspicion. I tracked Chavigny to a jeweller's +shop the day I reached Indore and overheard him commission the merchant +to make an imitation copy of the Maharajah Holkar's Pearl Scarf. After +that I watched the jeweller, too. He--but I'm boring you." + +"Boring me!" She laughed. "My own brother masquerading as a native and +shadowing a notorious thief! Go on!" + +"Well, I waited, and the expected happened, only on a larger scale than +I anticipated. The treasury was looted--_looted_! Thousands' worth of +jewels! Why, the Pearl Scarf alone is valued at a _crore_ of rupees, +which is about three million, three hundred thousand in our money. And +the Peacock Turban, too, cost a fabulous sum! Yet, confound it, Chavigny +didn't go near the palace the night of the robbery! Nor had he taken the +copy of the Pearl Scarf from the bazaar! The night after the theft, I +followed him to the shop. Gad, how it rained that night! He got the +imitation scarf--but I lost him. We had a tussle and I snatched the +beastly imitation, which I'm keeping as a souvenir of my colossal +blunder in not taking the local police into my confidence. Departmental +jealousy; that's the death of justice. Chavigny left Indore by +automobile or carriage--don't know which--and boarded a north-bound +train at Mhow garrison. The station-babu described him and said his +ticket read to Delhi. And here I am." + +"You've notified the police that--Chavigny, isn't it?--is in the city?" + +He smiled. "I didn't have to. About two hours after I arrived, I heard +that Kerth--he's the Director of Central Intelligence's best man--had +got wind of Chavigny's presence and was trying to ferret him out. That +relieved me of the responsibility of reporting Chavigny." + +"And you still have the copy of the Pearl Scarf?" + +"Yes." + +"But is it right to keep it?" This with a flickering deep in the brown +eyes. + +"Oh, I'll not keep it; only for a while. If I can get Chavigny, +then--well, there's no telling what might happen. Too, I'd like to beat +that devilishly clever Kerth. You see, Dana, this is a big affair, much +bigger than I thought at first. The Secret Service is trying to keep the +lid on it, but of course it's leaked out. On the same night the robbery +occurred at Indore, similar robberies took place in several other +cities. And in every instance it was royal loot! The Gaekwar of Baroda +has one of the finest collections of diamonds in India, the famous 'Star +of the Deccan' among them--and a rug, a _rug_, Dana, ten by six, made of +pearls and rubies and diamonds! Think of it--and stolen! Scindia of +Gwalior, the Rajah of Alwar, the Nawab of Bahawalpur, and, oh, others, +too! And they all happened on the same night. Does it mean there's a +band of thieves at work, with Chavigny at the head? If so, why, great +Scott, it's the most colossal thing that's ever been staged! But I can't +understand how they intend to get away with the booty. The borders and +the coast are closed as tight as a drum, and they can't dispose of the +jewels in India." + +Dana sighed. "To think of all that happening, Alan, just as I arrive! +Wouldn't it be marvelous if--" + +"If what?" he encouraged, smiling. + +"Well, if I were to wake up and find myself in the midst of something of +that sort; one of the players, not just an onlooker." Another sigh. "I'd +like to see a really notorious thief, Alan." + +He laughed. "You may; for Chavigny's in a close quarter now. But here we +are at the hotel." + +The carriage drew up and a turbaned porter took her bags. The +proprietor, an Eurasian, met them under the great front arch of the +building and conducted them to their rooms. + +"Oh!" gasped the girl, drawing aside the bamboo blinds. + +The casement opened upon a stone terrace flush with the city walls, and +out of the green and white chaos of Shahjehanabad, or modern Delhi, rose +the gilded bubbles of several domes. Beyond a dark green jungle area, +the Jumna shone dully. + +"India!" she exclaimed. "Moguls and howdahs and mosques!" + +"India! Thugs, snakes and abominable hotels!" scoffed her brother from +the adjoining room. "Here's the copy of the Pearl Scarf, if you care to +see it." + +As she turned, he stepped through the communicating doorway and extended +a shallow box. When she lifted the cover a little gasp of astonishment +left her lips. The cream-luster of pearls; red and blue gleams from +paste diamonds! + +"Why, they look genuine!" she cried; then shuddered. "There's a terrible +fascination about jewels, Alan. They always have a story. Murder and +pillage!" + +"Grease and dirt usually, in India," he interpolated with a smile, +taking the box. "But let's forget Chavigny and the round dozen Rajahs +that are wailing over their stolen jewels. I promised Gerrish--he's an +old friend--we'd dine with him this evening. Eight o'clock." + +A few minutes later Dana unpacked her grips. Dear Alan! Her brother. +After all those years. She wondered if it were not a dream, if presently +she wouldn't wake up back at Bayou Latouche, or in Tante Lucie's court, +down in New Orleans, with Tante Lucie talking of foreign lands.... + + +2 + +Night settled over Delhi. From the River Jumna to the Ridge, and beyond, +tiny lights blinked at the shadows, and like a huge spirit-eye in the +dusk the moon looked down upon the domes and minarets of the old Mogul +capital. At the clubs electric punkahs fanned the air, ice clinked in +frosted glasses and home-sick young officers read news-sheets from +Britain. The network of narrow, constricted highways between Burra +Bazaar and the Delhi Gate steamed and stewed, and heat and stench +crawled beneath dirty eaves and balconies. South of the modern city, on +the dead plain of Firozabad, thornbush and acacia rustled mournfully and +ruined ramparts yielded up their nightly squadron of bats. + +In his residence beyond the Civil Lines, Colonel Sir Francis Duncraigie, +Director of Central Intelligence, C. S. I., and probably one of the most +important men in the empire, sat alone in his writing-room beneath a +mildly whirring fan, and sweltered and swore. + +As a house-boy appeared like a white wraith from the dusk of the hall, +he looked up. + +"Well?" + +"Did you call, O Presence?" + +Sir Francis glared. "No!" Then, "But wait!" + +A pattering noise sounded from the driveway, and he rose and strode to +the window, parting the draperies. What he saw, fantastic in the hazy +moonlight, was a palanquin with drawn curtains, borne on the shoulders +of four coolies. + +"What 'n Tophet!" he exclaimed, for palanquins are rare in the +present-day Delhi of cabs and motorcars, nor is it the custom of +Mohammedan ladies, who ride in these picturesque conveyances, to call +upon officers of the empire. + +"If it's anybody to see me, tell 'em I have an appointment and they'll +have to wait," he instructed briefly, turning back. + +The house-boy disappeared, and Sir Francis resumed his seat. After a +moment the boy returned. + +"She says you have an appointment with her, O Presence!" + +The colonel stared. "What!" Pause. "By George! Perhaps you'd better show +her in!" + +He watched the doorway, and presently a white figure materialized. He +rose. The woman wore a _bhourka_--the long cotton garment that +Mohammedan ladies affect in public, and which leaves only the eyes +visible. + +"You wish to see me?" asked the Director of Central Intelligence. + +The hood of the _bhourka_ was thrown back ... and the colonel, who while +on duty hibernated under the armor of official dignity, came out of his +shell. No man would question her beauty, many her type. The features +were long and narrow, and a warm gold, suggesting an Aryan strain, +underlay her clear skin. The eyes, rather heavy-lidded, were baffling, +and of a deep violet shade--like the peaks of the Khyber after the +sunset gun at Jamrud Fort. Black hair clouded her face. + +"You are surprised to see me--like this?" she enquired, indicating the +_bhourka_. + +Her voice was low and rich, and marked by a huskiness that was rare in +that it was musical. Her English was flawless. + +"Well, rather!" confessed the colonel. + +"Am I late?"--as he drew up a chair for her. + +"On the minute," he lied. + +She smiled tolerantly. "Will you close the door, please?" + +With a speed that would have made his subalterns gasp, he hastened to +obey. + +"Since I received your telephone call," he told her, settling himself +behind the desk, "I have been all interest. What is it this time--more +plots against the Sirkar?" + +She made a grimace. "Plots spring up and die overnight! If I concerned +myself with such minor occurrences, I should be eternally occupied. I +told you I wished to see you regarding a matter of _importance_." + +She paused and he said: "Well?" + +"What happened on the night of June fourteenth?" + +He stared at her. "You don't mean--" + +"But I _do_." + +He drummed upon the desk. + +"You have not answered me," she reminded, after a moment. "What _did_ +happen on that night? Why not read me your files?" + +He unlocked a drawer of his desk and removed a file cabinet. From the +latter he took a sheaf of papers. + +"The Treasure House at Alwar was robbed," he said, his eyes upon the +papers in his hand. "The diamonds alone are worth ten thousand pounds, +and--but you don't want me to go into detail, do you? Well, gems valued +at three hundred thousand pounds, sterling, were spirited away from the +Nazarbagh Palace at Baroda. Tukaji Rao of Indore lost his Pearl Scarf +and the Peacock Turban. The treasury at Jodpur was looted. Scindia of +Gwalior's pearls were stolen. Others who were robbed are: your cousin, +the Nawab of Jehelumpore, the Nawab of Bahawalpur, the Rajah of Mysore +and the Rajah of Tanjore." He halted, raising his eyes. "In other words, +on the night of June fourteenth jewels worth millions of pounds were +snatched away under the very nose of the Government, without leaving one +single thread to grasp! If anyone had even suggested such a preposterous +thing before, I'd have laughed!" + +"Then the 'Delhi Post' did not tell the truth this morning," ventured +the woman, "when it said, 'the Intelligence Department has a valuable +clue'?" + +"Well, so we have," he admitted. + +"Chavigny?" + +He gave her a swift glance. "How did you know?" + +She dismissed the question with a shrug and said: + +"You agree with me, I am sure, Sir Francis, that these robberies are +connected; that it is highly improbable to think for an instant that in +nine cities thefts of famous jewels merely occurred simultaneously. As +for this Chavigny--judging from his reputation he is clever enough to +have done it. However, reflect upon the difficulties he would encounter. +India is not like Europe. There is caste to consider. He is a white man. +Furthermore, the jewels were stolen from state treasuries; from +buildings, in some instances vaults, that are not easily accessible." + +"Then you think it the work of some sort of organized band?" + +"I think exactly as you do," she replied cryptically, "only I have +foundation for my belief, while you are--rather, your department, +is--well, romancing." + +Silence fell. The man was the first to speak. + +"I'm to infer, then, that in your opinion Chavigny had nothing whatever +to do with the robberies?" + +She smiled. "Did I say that?" + +"At least, you hinted that there is something rather big behind the +thefts." + +She continued to smile and leaned upon the desk, facing him. + +"To come to the purpose of this call, Sir Francis. If you will give me +four months--and a free rein--you have my word that I will recover every +jewel that was stolen on the night of June fourteenth." + +It was with difficulty that the Director of Central Intelligence +smothered an impulse to smile and suggested soberly: + +"Won't you be more explicit? This is--well, from my viewpoint, it seems +rather incredible." + +"I mean, with the aid of one of your men I will do what your Department +could never accomplish. May I have him?" + +"The whole of the Secret Service is at your disposal!"--magnanimously. + +She gestured impatiently. "Woodenheads, all of them!" + +Sir Francis almost gasped. "Even Euan Kerth?" he managed to ask calmly. + +"I do not know Euan Kerth, but he is reputed to be the lion of your +Department. He would more than likely prove unmanageable. No, Euan Kerth +does not qualify." + +He chewed his lip. "Really, won't you throw a little more light on the +subject?" + +"No," she replied in mellifluous tones, with her most distracting smile. +"You recall what happened in the affair of Amar Singh, when your men +investigated? _I_ shall handle this after my own manner--or wash my +hands of it." + +Sir Francis' forehead wrinkled in an official frown. + +"This is most extraordinary! Is that a--er--threat?" + +"Dare one threaten the Intelligence Department?" she purred. + +He drummed upon the surface of his desk again. His thoughts at that +moment were none too pleasant. + +"Well, what are your terms?" came at length from him. + +She was aware that she was mistress of the situation, and she enjoyed +the position. + +"I wish to choose the man with whom I am to work," she began. "I am not +to be spied upon by your agents; in fact, the first indication of any +sort of surveillance will end our contract. The man I choose will not be +permitted to communicate with you, or with anyone, until we have +finished. He must obey me implicitly. If you agree to my terms, I shall +name a meeting-place, and from the instant this man enters the house he +is mine; he disappears from your observation completely until I give him +back to the Raj. Meanwhile, you will follow up the clues you have; you +will forget me, you will forget the man who is to help me--and at the +end of four months I will keep my pledge." + +Sir Francis concealed his thoughts under a smile, and well he did. + +"You ask the impossible. Why, that's preposterous!" + +"You question my loyalty?" + +A spark showed in the violet eyes--steel under the velvet. + +"Your loyalty is not involved in this discussion; it is simply that you +ask things that are unprecedented in the service." + +"The happenings of June fourteenth are without precedent," she returned +swiftly. "Come, Sir Francis, what are you losing in this venture? On the +contrary, you gain much. I want no credit; when I have finished I vanish +from the affair, completely. One of the stipulations is that my name +must not be mentioned in connection with the work. Simply, your +curiosity is piqued. And your masculine vanity suffers at the thought +that a woman can do what you, with your hundreds of eyes, can not. Be +reasonable. I give my word, a word that you have reason to know is +always kept, that your man shall come to no harm. You do not question my +loyalty, you say; then what reason for refusal have you? Simply that in +the stale, musty annals of your Department such a thing has never been +done!" + +The Director of Central Intelligence leaned back in his chair. + +"Do you know"--and he smiled as he said it--"I could have +you--er--detained as a suspicious person, if I felt so disposed." + +Her musical laughter rippled out. "But you do _not_ feel so disposed, +for what would it gain you?" + +Their eyes met and there followed a quick duel.... The man's smile was a +sign of defeat. + +"If you don't want a Secret Service man, whom _do_ you want?" + +"A man who has brains and imagination--and, besides those, honor." + +"Name him." + +"Major Arnold Trent of Gaya." + +Sir Francis lifted his eyebrows. "He is a doctor." + +"That is the way with you military men"--with a sigh. "If one is a +physician, you think he knows nothing but what is taught in schools of +medicine! I want some one whose brain is free of tiresome Secret Service +rules." + +The Colonel smiled. "You are a very resourceful woman," he declared. + +"That means you accept?" + +"It means I recognize your ability, and that I shall communicate with +the Viceroy to-morrow and give you my decision as soon as possible." + +She smiled her approval and rose. + +"Then I shall not prolong this interview. Good night, Sir Francis." + +She gave him her hand and moved to the door, where she halted, turning +back. + +"I nearly forgot," she said. "There is one other clause in the +agreement. Major Trent must be kept in ignorance of the party with whom +he is to work. To him you may call me--well, the Swaying Cobra." She +smiled again. "By that name I was known when I danced on the Continent." + +Then she departed, melting into the dusky hallway. + +After a moment Sir Francis moved to the window and parted the draperies +slightly. The palanquin was passing, swimming in yellow moonlight. He +watched it until it lost itself in shadows. + +"Now what the deuce!" he muttered. + +He resumed his seat and searched several drawers until he found a black +book; then he ran through the pages, halting at: "_Trent, Arnold Ralph, +Major, R. A. M. C...._" He read the lines following the name; took the +receiver from a telephone on his desk; called for a number. + +"Kane?" he asked when he was connected. "Duncraigie. You might come out +this way to-night. Important matter. Sarojini Nanjee just called. What! +Surely you remember _her_! Connection of the Nawab of Jehelumpore; +danced in London and Paris for a while. Half white, fourth Rajput, and +the rest devil." He chuckled. "Thought you'd recall _her_. I'll be +waiting for you." + +He placed the receiver upon the hook and sat staring reflectively at the +doorway where the woman of the _bhourka_ disappeared. + +"Hell-cat!" he said aloud. + +Which may or may not have been the impression she intended to give. + + +3 + +An hour after the interview with the Director of Central Intelligence, +Sarojini Nanjee lay back in a great cane chair in the living-room of her +bungalow, idly watching the smoke from her cigarette as it spiraled +upward and was rent into vaporous tatters by the electric punkah. + +The room, like its occupant, was exotic. A Kyoto gong kindled a bright +spot among softer tones--rare rugs, brocade hangings, and a tall lamp +afloat on the shadows, like an amber island. The woman seemed to melt +into it, her very attitude expressing its utter luxury. Deep iris-hued +eyes dreamed under heavy lids. Her skin glowed with a golden sheen, and +the lacy folds of a negligee fell sheer from her slender ankles and +embroidered the carpet with foamy white. + +She had been thus for some time, her brain immersed in a languor, her +thoughts propelled with as little mental volition as possible. She +stirred only to flick the cigarette-ashes into a brass bowl at her +elbow, or to arch one arm above her head in a gesture of complete +abandon. A passing recollection of her call at Sir Francis Duncraigie's +residence invariably caused a faint, inscrutable smile to slip into her +eyes. But for the most part she did not burden herself with either +thought or retrospection; merely sat in the dull, sweet stupor of +semi-inertia. + +A night beetle rattled harshly outside. The sound came to the woman as a +sudden recall from her absorption. She placed her nearly burnt-out +cigarette in the ash-bowl; stretched, rose, and struck the Kyoto gong. +As the rich, deep-throated echo sank into a hush, the curtains on one +side of the room parted and a servant in white garments and a blue +turban entered. + +"I shall retire now, Chandra Lal," she announced quietly. "You have your +instructions." + +"Yes, Heavenborn!" + +"You remember the place--the room?" + +"How could I forget, Heavenborn?" + +"You will"--she hesitated--"cause no injury unless necessary." + +"Nay, Heavenborn!" + +"Stop calling me that!"--irritably. + +Scarlet betel-stained teeth were revealed in a smile. + +"Very well, Memsahib." + +"You may go now." + +"To hear is to obey, Memsahib!" + +The blue-turbaned Chandra Lal slipped noiselessly between the curtains. + +Sarojini Nanjee moved to a door in the other end of the room, paused +tentatively and stepped over the threshold. The door closed behind her. + +And as she left the room, Chandra Lal reappeared. + +He stood motionless in the division of the curtains, listening; then +crept softly to a desk in a dusky corner. He produced a key from his +breeches; fitted it into a lock; opened a drawer. For several seconds +his hands moved swiftly, silently through the papers within. After that +he wrote a line on a small scrap of paper. This he folded and slipped +under the edge of his blue turban. + +Noiselessly he locked the drawer and recrossed the room. At the doorway +he looked back.... The curtains fell together behind him. + + +4 + +Dana Charteris sat before a mirror in her room at the hotel and released +her hair from all restraining pins. It tumbled over her shoulders in +ripples of gold; little bronze-tipped waves, rather reddish, glowed with +soft fire under the searching rays of the electric lamp. The face that +looked back at her from the mirror, a face framed in the shimmering +copperish masses, had a lustrous pallor. She returned the stare of her +own image solemnly and realized, not for the first time, that while the +features in the mirror were those of a girl, there were hints of +maturity. The fullness of the throat, of the lips, and the sympathetic, +almost poignant expression in the brown eyes. + +She sighed, then hummed a little tune as she ran a comb through the +thick strands. The odor of tobacco floated to her from the adjoining +room where Alan was making out a report. She liked the smell; it was +clean and masculine. + +When she had plaited her hair into two long braids, she slipped into a +dressing-gown and pattered into her brother's room in bedroom sandals. + +"Alan," she said, slipping her arms about his neck, "it's so wonderful +to be with you! Why, just think, two months ago I was teaching music in +Bayou Latouche!" + +He put his pipe aside. + +"To-morrow we'll ramble about the city, through the Fort and the +bazaars," he told her. "And the next day--to Lahore." + +"I always think of Lahore with a picture of _Kim_ sitting on +'_Zam-zammah_'." + +He smiled. "Then to Peshawar and the Khyber. I've an old friend at Ali +Masjid Fort and he's promised to take us through the Pass." + +Then he rose, picked her up bodily and carried her into her room, +placing her upon the bed. + +"Good night; sleep tight!" + +He kissed her, turned out the light and returned to his room. + +Dana slipped out of her dressing-gown; flung it across the foot of the +bed; dropped her slippers upon the floor. Then she lay back upon the +pillows, watching the moonlight that streamed in through the open +casement. + +The wide-flung windows yielded a view of the sky and the white Indian +stars. In her fancy she likened them to a string of jewels. Jewels. That +word brought to her mind a picture of the looted treasures of which Alan +had told her. Gems. What fascinating things! Jewels of rajahs and +maharajahs, the pomp and rust of pagan rulers! Diamonds stripped from +idols' eyes, and rubies and sapphires pillaged from the vaults of +ancient temples! She had heard stories of the pearl fisheries of Ceylon +where stones were stolen and hidden in cobras, even in human bodies.... +India, mother of intrigue. She shivered. + +She could not forget the copy of the Pearl Scarf of Indore. It haunted +her.... Pearls.... Chavigny, a thief of international notoriety.... +Alan's pen was scratching steadily on in the next room. The odor of +tobacco was comforting. It made her forget the jewels of Ind; conjured +in her mind a picture of the great, pillared house at Bayou Latouche. +And she was still thinking of Bayou Latouche, and hearing faintly the +_scratch-scratch_ of the pen, when she fell asleep. + + +5 + +Dana awakened with a start. Involuntarily she sat up in bed, staring +drowsily about the room. It was buried in dusk. The moonlight, floating +through the casement, crusted the floor with a band of pearl. As full +consciousness wiped the threads of sleep from her brain, she wondered +what had caused her sudden awakening. No noise, for silence shut down +like a lid, made more intense by the sighing of trees beyond the stone +terrace. The sounds of a clock on the dressing-table seemed to stitch +the hush. + +For a moment she sat there, vaguely uneasy; then swung her feet over the +side and slipped them into bedroom sandals. Moving quietly to the +dressing-table, she looked at the clock. After one.... Her sandals +lisped on the floor as she crept to the window. + +Delhi lay asleep in the breathless night. Temple, tower, dome and +minaret swam in the moonlight, and in the jungle stretch by the river +jackals were laughing hysterically. With a little shiver she returned to +the bed. + +Strange to awaken like this, she thought. The new surroundings probably. +She sighed and settled deeper in the bed. + +... She was almost asleep when a shadow flitted across her vision. At +first it seemed a part of the slumber that had nearly overcome her, and +she lay there contemplating the window-casement where it had passed +until it was borne to her, suddenly, and not without a shock, that she +was fully awake and the shadow was not a shadow, but a very substantial +human form that had stolen by on the stone terrace. The realization drew +her muscles rigid, and she lay motionless, listening to the hammering of +her heart. + +A faint scraping noise came from Alan's room. What was it, a footfall? +An oblong reservoir of darkness outlined the doorway. She could see +nothing.... She must move, must call her brother. But her body was +locked in a temporary paralysis, her tongue dry. + +Again the sound. Unmistakable. Some one was walking stealthily. The +crackle of paper. + +Her fright increased, swelled, became so acute that she could no longer +endure it. + +"Alan!" + +It was not a scream; a whisper. She found that she could move, and she +sat up. + +From the next room came a series of thuds; bare feet on the floor. + +"Damn you--" + +She leaped out of bed. + +A ripping sound. A groan. Another thud, heavier this time. + +Dana reached the communicating door in a few steps. A quick intake of +breath. Her hands closed upon the door-frame, tightened convulsively. +Dimness swam visibly before her. Through the dark mist she saw a figure +dart out upon the stone terrace and disappear. + +Beside the bed, stretched full length upon the floor, was a white form. + +She screamed. The dimness dissolved and she rushed to the body. + +"Alan! Alan!" + +She grasped his shoulders, dizzy, cold with horror. Involuntarily she +drew one hand away and saw a dark stain upon her fingers. It seemed to +glare out and strike her eyes. She fought against a gathering weakness; +forced herself to feel his heart. Beating. But that white face! And how +could she lift him to the bed, how-- + +Footsteps rang from the hall. Came a knock at the door; a voice +penetrated the panels. + +Dana rose, found the light-switch and turned it. The flood of yellow +gave warmth and strength to her--showed her a blue coil in the middle of +the room. Dimly she realized it was a turban cloth--probably torn from +the intruder's head. She did not touch it, but unlocked the door. + +The Eurasian proprietor stood outside, in a dressing-gown. Behind him +was a dark-skinned porter. A door opened further along the hall. + +"My brother!" she gasped, motioning toward the white form. + +The Eurasian spoke to the porter. They entered and placed the +unconscious man upon the bed. Oblivious of the fact that she was clad +only in a nightdress, Dana stood by, trying to collect her scattered +faculties. + +"If you will call a doctor," she said, "I'll attend to him now." + +"Yes, madam. I'll have the boy fetch some water and smelling-salts from +my wife's room. How did this happen?" + +"I--I can't think--now," she returned dazedly. "Later...." + +The Eurasian said something, but she did not remember what it was; +remembered only that he and the porter went out. A moment after the door +closed she heard voices in the hall. + +"O Alan!" she pleaded, bending over her brother. "Can't you hear me?" + +Several minutes passed before he showed any symptoms of reviving; then +he mumbled a few unintelligible words, and the lids drew back from his +eyes. + +"Dana!"--weakly. "He--took it--" + +"What, Alan, dear?" + +"The scarf--confounded imitation." He closed his eyes; opened them an +instant later. "I'll be all right,"--with a smile. "Nothing serious. +Don't mention the scarf, or anything about it. Just say--thief...." The +lids sank over his eyes. "Imitation," he muttered. And fainted again. + +... The Eurasian returned shortly, with the porter at his heels. The +latter carried a basin of water and several bottles. + +"If you'll allow me to attend to him," offered the proprietor, "it will +spare you much unpleasantness." + +Dana nodded and sank into a chair, shivering. + +Nearly an hour passed before the doctor arrived. Alan had regained +consciousness, but fainted during the examination. Dana, standing beside +the bed in her negligee, waited nervously to hear the decision. + +"I don't think you have any cause to be uneasy," said the doctor, after +what seemed an interminable time. "The wound isn't serious--only the +muscles and tissues punctured--nothing internal. But I'm going to +suggest, rather, insist, that he go to a hospital." + +"By all means," agreed Dana, very close to tears. "I want everything +possible done for him." + +The doctor smiled sympathetically. "Be sure we'll do all we can," he +assured her. "Now, if you'll have some one fetch a basin of water, +boiled, I'll get at this dressing." + +Close to dawn, after the doctor had departed and Alan was conscious, +Dana went to her room to dress. At the doorway she paused--for the blue +turban-cloth lay coiled upon the threshold where she had tossed it. +Incidents of greater importance had crowded the remembrance of it from +her brain. Now she stooped and picked it up, rather gingerly. Queer. For +imitation pearls! + +She lowered her eyes, suddenly, involuntarily--as though in obedience to +a subconscious command. + +On the spot where the turban-cloth had lain was a small scrap of paper. + + * * * * * + +Thus, having jested with a puppet at Indore and given a thread into the +hands of Dana Charteris, Destiny, capricious as the winds, turned toward +the officer of the empire upon whom a chalk-mark had previously been +placed. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A PIECE OF CORAL + + +Sunset was spreading a fan of flamingo plumes above Meera, a native +village to the northward of Gaya, when Arnold Trent (unaware that +Destiny had been hovering over him since Dana Charteris found the scrap +of paper, in Delhi, three days before) clattered out of the jungle and +along the nearly deserted main street. At the council-tree, where the +headman of the village sat and chewed betel-leaf, he drew rein, +listening to a low, eerie wailing that came from one of the whitewashed +houses. + +"It is Chatterjee," volunteered the headman. "His Ratanamma is dead, +Dakktar Sahib." + +Trent swung down from his saddle. "When did it happen, Ranjeet Singh?" + +"Not an hour past, Dakktar Sahib." + +Trent's eyes roved up and down the street. "Where's everybody? Meera +looks as if a plague had struck it." + +Ranjeet Singh, who was a Jain, spat contemptuously. + +"Some vermin-ridden priests from Tibet are at the Sacred Bo-tree," he +explained, "and the worshippers of Gaudama have swarmed thither, like +flies to a dung-feast!" + +Trent smiled slightly and moved toward one of the whitewashed houses, +swinging along with the leisurely, easy stride of one poised on +well-controlled muscles. At the door he paused. It was dark within, and +a breath of offal and man-reek greeted him. After a moment he saw, +against the darkness, the pale silhouette of a white-clad figure. From +this figure came the eerie wails. + +"Chatterjee!" Trent called. + +The silhouette ceased wailing long enough to quaver: "Dakktar Sahib!" + +The Englishman, his eyes now accustomed to the gloom, strode over to a +thong-strung bed and peered down at the form stretched upon it. Unable +to see clearly, he struck a match. The tiny flare flickered upon bare +brown skin.... Trent swore. + +"Stop that damned nonsense!" he commanded. "Chatterjee, you've had some +infernal _hakim_ here again--against my orders!" + +"My little Ratanamma, dove of my bosom, is dead!" wailed the man. + +"Did you give her the medicine I left?" + +"Yes, Dakktar Sahib! It was your medicine that killed her. The _hakim_ +said so." + +Trent swore again. "I've a notion to report you to the Karnal Sahib and +have you taken up! You old murderer! Didn't you know better than to let +some filthy, stinking _hakim_ burn her stomach with a hot iron?" + +The native was wailing again. + +"Listen to me, Chatterjee," said Trent sternly, gripping the man's +shoulder. "Who did this?" + +"Your medicine, Dakktar Sahib!" + +Trent shook him roughly. "Will you answer me--or...." + +"Your medicine, Dakktar Sahib!" insisted the man. + +Trent released him, realizing the futility of pressing the question. + +"Very well. I'll report you to the Karnal Sahib and he'll have you +strung up by your toes!" + +He left the house abruptly--followed by feverish, glowing eyes. + +Out of Meera he rode, past the temple on the river bank and along the +jungle-lined road toward Gaya. + +Trent was angry. But his face gave no indication of it. Twenty-three +years under a tropical sun (add the ten years at school in Britain and +you'll have his age) had baked his skin to a leather brown, and a third +of that time spent in the army had taught him that impassivity is man's +chief advantage--a citadel against the aggressive. He had, in the +vernacular of the times, a "poker face"--the mask of those who share +their secrets with few. In either mufti or khaki he was not particularly +handsome, and this evening, after a day of work in viscid heat, he was +almost ugly. Dust was ingrained into his skin, like an ocher pigment; +his throat and brows were moist with perspiration. Yet there was about +him something arresting and vital--a challenging strength that +pronounced him a man's man. And he was. He talked with men; ate with +men; lived with men; understood men. Scales that dip into earth-dust and +swing again to regions of exquisite idealism--the eternal weight and +counter-weight of Self. That was how he defined them. And his +definitions were usually metaphors. An idiosyncrasy. Give him a chair in +a dim room with one of Beethoven's sonatas swelling in throat-gripping +chords, or a pipe and congenial darkness somewhere close to the stars, +and he was in his prime element. + +As for women.... That there had been one--one or more--at some time in +his life, nobody who knew him doubted; but it was the general opinion at +Gaya and thereabouts that he was as little concerned with women as with +anything else that habited the planet. Envious subordinates hinted that +at one time or other he had run afoul some feminine reef. When these +remarks drifted to Trent (and such remarks always do) he only smiled, +for he had a generous supply of humor packed away under his impassivity. +It was never known that he deliberately avoided women; it appeared that +he simply accepted them as a matter of form, inevitable as waves on a +sea, and sometimes as disastrous. + +Only Richard Manlove, also an army doctor, who shared his +bungalow, had penetrated beyond the outer-rampart of his seeming +seclusiveness--"Dicky" Manlove whom Trent first saw out in dead +Mesopotamia. Their friendship was a popular topic of discussion on warm +afternoons when feminine Gaya gathered to perspire under one common +punkah. So different, you know.... Young "Dicky"--a delicious boy ... +and the major--oh, rather a decent chap, a human manual of Hindustani +and all those other perfectly impossible languages, but ... well, it's +so disconcerting not to know what a man is thinking, isn't it? + +Thus feminine Gaya catalogued him, and thus he appeared--immobile--this +late afternoon as he rode out of Meera. + +His anger died as he trotted on, and by the time he came within view of +his bungalow, built on the flank of one of Gaya's hills, he was +watching, in a whimsical, almost detached manner, the fireflies dance +and reel in the dusk. When he drew nearer, he saw a figure in a white +dress leave his compound, a figure that paused at the diverging roads +not far from the bungalow, and, after a slight hesitation, chose the +branch in his direction. Instantly he indexed her as a stranger; no +female resident would think of using the isolated Meera road after dusk. + +She wore a pith helmet with a veil. The veil was lifted, but as he +approached, she lowered it--curiously enough, he thought. He was certain +she had come from his compound; therefore, when she was within a few +yards, he drew rein. + +"Your pardon...." as he lifted his helmet. "Do you wish to see me? I'm +Major Trent." + +She halted, resting one hand upon a tree-trunk. He caught the glint of a +bracelet on her white arm, and, being a man to notice details, observed +a design worked in heavy relief upon it--a design that, in the half-tone +of the early night, was almost indistinguishable. + +"No," came the answer from under the veil, in a voice with a soft, +thrilling timbre. "No." + +He was still studying the bracelet out of the corner of his eye, and he +perceived that the intricate workmanship represented a king-cobra; its +hood was lifted in bizarre relief.... A barbaric ornament for a white +woman to wear, he thought. + +"But, really," he persisted, "it isn't quite safe for you to go along +this road. Beasts, you know." + +A pause. He saw the dark pools of her eyes upon him. + +"Thank you," she murmured. "I thought I was going to the dâk bungalow." + +With that she turned and moved away in the direction of the metalled +main highway. + +"Now, that's queer," he observed to himself, staring after her. "Anybody +with even bad sight could see that this road...." Certainly she was at +the compound gate. Why had she falsified? + +He removed his helmet and furrowed his hair--a characteristic gesture; +then, still watching the woman, he jerked the reins and trotted toward +the bungalow. + + +2 + +A native servant in a white cotton _chuddah_ and turban switched on the +light in the living-room as Trent entered. + +"Has Manlove Sahib come in, Ganeesh?" asked the Englishman. + +"No, Dakktar Sahib." + +Trent placed his helmet upon the table and sank into a chair. + +"I sha'n't want anything to eat, so you may as well go. If Manlove Sahib +hasn't eaten, he can go to the barracks." + +As the native quitted the room, Trent, at a sudden thought, called after +him. + +"Ganeesh," he said, as his servant reappeared, "has anyone been here +this afternoon?" + +"No, Dakktar Sahib." + +"Didn't a lady call a few minutes ago?" + +The man answered in the negative. + +"Hmm. Very well. That's all." + +Still puzzling over the strange woman, he removed a pipe and a sack of +tobacco from his shirt pocket, and when he had filled the bowl he +lighted it. For several minutes he drew upon the amber stem, looking +abstractedly into the whorls of smoke; then he picked up a brown volume +from the table and opened it at a leaf that was turned under. + +Here was another trait that Gaya had not discovered. Frequently when he +was tired he turned to poetry--sometimes to books on the art-treasures +and ancient lore of India, Indo-China and China--for relaxation. + +His eyes followed these lines: + + Star of the South that now through orient mist, + At nightfall off Tampico or Belize, + Greetest the sailor, rising from those seas + Where first in me, a fond romanticist, + The tropic sunset's bloom on cloudy piles + Cast out industrious cares with dreams of fabulous isles. + +He rather fancied that passage. Fabulous isles. His brain toyed with the +thought. For, although he walked down among mortals, sheathing himself +in indifference and impassivity, he kept, in secret, a ladder to the +stars--a concession to return at will to a guarded kingdom of his youth, +the dominion of Romance and Adventure. He would have dwelt in this +kingdom, secluded from earth, but for a thorn that was fastened deep +within him. This thorn had pricked him since that period of adolescence +when first visions and aspirations stirred in his boyish brain and set +him to dreaming of the future. It had goaded him relentlessly into +achievement, against the will of his adventurous spirit. + +Strive as he might, he could not draw it out. + +It was Ambition. + +Because of it he had buried a dream that at odd moments returned and +haunted him, like the poignantly sweet odor of lavender rising from +packed-away treasures. Reckless, this dream, dangerous. To forsake the +dull earth; drink freedom from the winds. A passion for the open +spaces--to explore the fabulous isles. But the lure of uncharted seas +and archipelagoes beyond the sunset, sheer and calling as they were, +could not entice him to trample tradition. Ambition had won. And he +beheld himself now, at thirty-three, a romantic soul armored in realism; +at heart a boy who had never broken away from the age when flapping +canvas and groaning timbers cause a queer clutching in the throat. His +reckless impulses and desires were bitted and diverted into +accomplishment. He was a success. But there were times, often in the +dead of the night, with the jungle solitude challenging speech, when he +realized that, in his own eyes, he was a failure. + +He sighed unconsciously, almost inaudibly, and his sea-green eyes +softened to gray as he fashioned, extravagantly, a blue dragon in the +tobacco smoke that coiled sinuously toward the ceiling; sighed, as he +often did in the quiet of his own quarters where only the walls might +hear. + +His thoughts switched involuntarily to the present (and his eyes lost +some of their grayness, for their color seemed to change with his moods) +and focused upon the communication he had received that morning. Under +the precise military wording he sensed another element. Mystery. After +all these prosaic years was he to be drawn out of his cocoon of +medicines and gauze bandages and have his adventure? In all probability +the affair would prove drab enough. Adventure? Well, hardly. Things of +the sort set forth in the dispatch were usually rather unpleasant. Yet +it intrigued him. Blindfolded. And was not that it? + +"... temporarily attached to ... Euan Kerth ... a woman called the +Swaying Cobra...." + +Fragments of the communication filtered through his brain. Strange. From +pills and antiseptics to that! It _was_ leaving a cocoon! What a joke to +tell Manlove. Dear old Manlove--this with warmth. + +The sounds of walking in the compound announced the object of his +thoughts. The footsteps drew nearer, crossed the veranda, and Manlove, +uniformed and helmeted, entered. + +"Rum day," he said. "Hot as Tophet; everything wrong." + +Trent made no comment; only nodded. + +"There's a big shindy up at the Sacred Bo-tree," the other added. "Some +Tibetan lamas are there. I stopped by with Herrick." + +He took off his helmet, the removal revealing to the light a tanned, +boyish face and a healthy thatch of hair; mopped his forehead and flung +his headgear carelessly across the room. That was his way, to appear +careless. But at heart he was not; he liked small boundaries (while +Trent craved larger ranges), homely things. He looked forward to the +time when he would come into possession of "Gray Towers," ancestral +abiding-place of the Manloves. Of course, he didn't want his +grandfather, more familiarly known as the Old Fellow, to die or anything +like that; he was simply prepared for the inevitable: The Right +Honorable Richard Auckland Manlove, sitting in the House of Lords and +presenting Colonial improvement measures, for India in particular; no +longer "Dicky" Manlove, irresponsible adventurer, but carrying the +ponderous dignity of the name.... It was all very impressive.... + +"Mrs. Dalhousie is giving a lawn party to-night," he announced, taking a +chair. "Impromptu. She told me to drag you along, if you'd come." + +"Sorry," returned Trent. "I'm leaving for Benares early in the morning. +I'll be occupied to-night. Orders from Delhi." + +Manlove withdrew a cigarette case from under his tunic, opened it, took +out a smoke and placed it between his lips before he spoke. + +"Deuce you say! Not transferred?" + +"Temporarily detached; special service. You and Conningsby will have to +take charge while I'm away." He smiled. "Been reading the papers +lately?" + +Manlove lighted his cigarette, glancing furtively at Trent. The latter +was staring into the blue haze of smoke, half humorously, as though he +found something amusing in the vaporous clouds. + +"Certainly"--thus Manlove. + +"Anything new about the jewels?" + +Manlove smiled to himself. He hadn't lived in the same house with Arnold +Trent for fourteen months without learning _something_ about him. The +old sphinx, he thought good-humoredly. + +"Nothing important"--briefly. "However, I understand, from Granville, +that the Department believes an international thief--Chavigny's his +name--mixed up in it." + +"Wonder where Granville got that?" + +"Oh, rumors are plentiful, especially at stations like this where +everybody's chief occupation is talk." + +"That all?" + +Manlove nodded and said nothing, for he knew Trent. + +"Have you approximated the value of the stolen gems?" queried the +latter, then went on: "Millions of pounds! And have you wondered how the +devil they're going to hide the loot, or get it out of India? Such well +known jewels can't be sold--" + +"Unless they're re-cut," put in Manlove. He smiled wisely. "By Kali and +all the other deities, you don't mean that you, expert in cholera and +dysentery, are about to--" He chuckled. "Well, I'm damned!" + +Trent moved to a desk in a corner of the room, unlocked it and took out +a long, official-looking document. This he handed to Manlove, then +resumed his seat. The latter unfolded it and let his eyes travel down +the sheet. + +"Has the heat gone to their heads at Delhi?" he demanded when he had +finished. "Almighty God, why detach a perfectly good doctor, when they +have a whole list of Secret Service men?" + +Trent only smiled. The younger man waved his hand toward the paper. + +"Surely this isn't all?" + +"You know as much as I do. I leave in the morning for Benares. At the +hotel I'm to meet a fellow called Kerth--" + +"Euan Kerth," Manlove interrupted, his eyes upon the document. "You've +heard of him, haven't you? He's the best of his sort in India. He's been +in Tibet; was one of Younghusband's interpreters in nineteen-four. +Speaks Hindustani, Burmese, mandarin Chinese, Tibetan, and God knows +what else! You and he ought to hit it off fairly well together. But go +on." + +"I'm to meet him at the hotel," Trent resumed. "Just what part he plays, +I don't know yet. There I'm also to find a message from this Swaying +Cobra woman, and meet her at a place named in the message. And--well, +that's all." He smiled. "Enlightening, isn't it?" + +As he finished, Manlove strode to the door and tossed away his +cigarette. There he paused, peering out. + +"Where's Ganeesh?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. + +"I let him go for the evening. Why?" + +"Just saw some one leave the compound; must have been he." Manlove +returned to his chair. "Trent, I envy you--even if they are balmy at +Delhi. This doctoring heathens isn't all it's colored up to be. It's +getting on my nerves. I even dream about fever and stinking _fakirs_." + +Trent consulted his wrist-watch. "I have to ride up to Colonel Urqhart's +and make a report. Remember the chap at Meera, Chatterjee? Some _hakim_ +burned his child's stomach with an iron. Of course she died. I'm going +to make an example of him." He rose. "I have to wash up a bit. I suppose +you're going to the lawn party?" + +"Think not," decided Manlove. "I'll be here when you return." + +"Care to ride up with me?" + +"No. I'm rather tired." + +Trent went to his bedroom and Manlove lighted another cigarette. He'd +miss the old sphinx, he told himself. Good old Trent! Why hadn't he +married? Frequently he asked himself that question; never Trent. There +must be a reason, he mused, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. Maybe +there had been a woman--a typhoon. The typhoon sort could raise the +deuce with a chap like Trent. Perhaps.... He stifled a yawn. Damn India; +damn its climate. He hadn't taken his leave this season; it was about +due now. A jolly trip home; see the Old Fellow; see "Gray Towers." + +He heard Trent moving about in the rear. He couldn't picture him +sleuthing it. Queer world anyhow. And Benares. What was afoot? + +Another yawn. He flung his half-smoked cigarette through the doorway, +and it fell upon the veranda in a mild shower of sparks, and lay there, +its red tip glowing like a malevolent little eye. + + +3 + +It was after nine o'clock when Trent rode out of Sahib's Gaya and around +the shoulder of a hill toward his bungalow. A golden moon floated in +nebulous haze--an electric disc that transfused its heat into the night. +The earth steamed and sweltered, and the perfumes of tropical blossoms +stole out of the jungle and exhaled a heavy languor. + +Trent, pipe clamped between his teeth, sweat running into his eyes from +his helmet-band, jogged along, thinking leisurely (as men do in warmer +climates) of the woman of the cobra-bracelet, and thinking more of the +bracelet than the woman. It was one of his peculiarities to collect rare +ornaments; among his curios he had a bangle of a Nepalese princess, a +Burmese bell from a pagoda in the Pyinmana district, and a +silver-chased, turquoise-inset teapot from Tibet. The bracelet the woman +wore was finely wrought, and its design not of the ordinary; this he +recognized, even though he had but a glimpse of it. A king-cobra with a +lifted hood. And the wearer.... Why had she lowered her veil--why had +she denied that she came from his compound? Mystery.... But, he +reflected, mysteries were not rare; mysteries, to such as he, in the +jungle; in the ruins and tumbled grandeur of ancient temples; in the +dim, dark bazaars, spice-reeking, where filth mocks British law, and +Love and Death are one.... + +A white figure, ahead in the scented gloom, broke into his thoughts, a +figure that at first was distinguishable only as a stain of pallor on +the roadway. Trent experienced a quickening of interest. She of the +cobra-bracelet? No. He could see now. Not a woman; a native. The man was +moving at a swift gait, almost running; but as he drew nearer, he +halted, looking about irresolutely, nervously. And at that moment (he +was not more than ten yards away) Trent recognized him and reined in his +mare. + +"Chatterjee!" he called. "D'ye want to see me?" + +The native did not answer, only fixed upon him a mute, terrified stare, +and crashed through the high, dense undergrowth at the side of the road. +The sounds of his flight grew fainter as he plunged deeper into the +jungle. + +Trent stared at the spot where he disappeared. His first impulse was to +follow--an impulse that he cast aside. Now that was odd, he thought. +What in flaming hades was the matter with him? For a moment he sat in +mystified silence, then he kicked his mount lightly in the flanks. + +A day of incidents. First, the dispatch from Delhi, then the veiled +woman, now this encounter. From where had the native come? The bungalow? +Perhaps he was merely on his way from Meera, for the road passed his +quarters. But he knew natives never walked when it was possible to ride. +Anyhow, that didn't explain his actions. Confound it, he'd have trouble +with that fellow yet! This as he branched off from the main highway and +clattered along the driveway to his compound. + +Not until he reached the gate did he observe that the house was dark, +squatting in gloomy secrecy among the surrounding trees. At first it +puzzled him; then he decided that Manlove had probably gone to bed. + +When his mare was stabled, he made his way into the living-room. In the +dark he struck his knee on a sharp projection and swore. He fumbled for +the light-switch; blinked in the sudden glare. A yawn and an indolent +stretch. He'd get a good sleep and-- + +"Hello!" he exclaimed, as his eyes trailed across the room to an +over-turned chair. "What the devil!" + +A piece of bronze, some Hindu god, lay on the floor, gleaming +sinisterly, and a picture--its regular place was on the desk--had fallen +to the floor. An insidious thought took root in his brain. With quick +strides he reached Manlove's room. It was empty, the bed unused. Its +desertion hurt him--a queer sensation, that. He whirled about, returned +to the living-room and halted, irresolute. + +"Manlove!" + +Silly to call, he thought. Perhaps Manlove had gone to the lawn party. +But the over-turned chair and the idol did not look well. Thieves? +Or.... Suddenly the meeting with Chatterjee shaped into significance. He +knew the workings of the native brain, and a frightful possibility +suggested itself. + +An electric torch lay on the table. He reached for it; stood with his +hands poised in the air, thought temporarily suspended from action. For +his eyes, lowered involuntarily, fastened upon a small, dark spot on the +matting. + +Regaining the power to move, he stooped. A sudden sickness seized him. +Unmistakable. But why did blood affect him? Blood. The discovery added a +spark to his suspicions. His imagination painted a swift, vivid picture. +The look of terror on Chatterjee's face.... Manlove, the innocent.... +But no! It couldn't be! + +In possession of the torchlight, he strode out upon the veranda. There +he discovered a trail of spots identical with that on the matting, a +trail that led down the steps. He made a quick search of the compound. A +sense of helplessness smote him. Manlove, perhaps somewhere within +calling distance, yet unable to summon him.... + +He halted at the gate. On the left was jungle, dark and hushed; on the +right, a few lights in the nearest bungalow. Across the road was the +mouth of a narrow path which he knew led to the ruins of an old temple +hidden behind the rank foliage. At thought of the ruins an impulse made +him forsake the compound and follow the path. + +Less than two hundred yards from the road the growths thinned. Looming +before him, spectral in the yellow mystery of the moonlight, was the +temple. The outer court was throttled with weeds. Luxurious vines +trailed from ruined pillar to ruined wall and wove a sanctuary for +vipers. At the end of an avenue of crumbled columns gaped the black +entrance of the inner court. An impalpable vapor steamed up from the +moist plants and bathed the ruins in a dream-like haze, as the blurred +waters of the ocean engulf and make fantastic the myriad rock-palaces of +the sea-bottoms. + +The dark inner court challenged Trent, and he snapped off the light and +moved between the stone sentinels. A power, terrifying in its vagueness, +pressed upon him, locking his muscles in a tension. A bat, startled out +of hiding by the ring of his footsteps, flapped up from the parapet and +wheeled across the moon's face. But for that, and an occasional rasp of +an insect, the temple was swathed in a hush. + +In the doorway of the inner court he paused. He groped for the shattered +frame; clutched something tangible; fought against a terrible paralysis. + +Yellow moonshine poured through a rent in the ceiling, drenched the +walls and formed a honey-hued pool on the flagging. + +In the wan light lay a human form. + +A deadly inertia coiled about Trent's brain and body. For a moment he +was unable to think, to do other than struggle against the constricting +coils of horror. But at length he broke the rigor. A few steps brought +him to the pool of moonlight. He knelt; switched on the torch; saw the +face. Dull agony spread from his throat to his limbs. In that instant he +seemed to slip back through a millennium and endure the concentrated +pains of a hundred bodies--a flame of cosmic anguish burning down +through the dim jungles of time. + +Automatically his hand went to the heart, but before his trained fingers +touched the breast he knew that to feel was useless. Dark moisture +stained the tunic-front. He unbuttoned the garments. Knife wound! +Manlove had been dead at least a half hour. + +The infinitesimal fraction of a minute that he knelt there might have +been an hour for the multitude of irrelevances that sped through his +brain. Orders. Benares.... And he had cursed when he struck his knee! +Had Manlove ridden with him to Colonel Urqhart's this would not have +happened. Urqhart; what an absurd name.... Murder. In a vague manner he +wondered who had done it; in a vague manner he felt angry. Dead. +Impossible. This must be a dream, a horrid nightmare. Damn these +nightmares! It was the heat ... heat.... His comrade.... Kasvin.... +Kut-el-Amara. And this was the end! The futility of things swept him, a +chill and shuddersome tide that served to wash some of the tangles from +his thoughts. + +He rose. He felt giddy, and the inner court, with its shadows, its pool +of moonshine, swam in a throat-gripping vertigo. But it passed swiftly. +Out of the mental chaos emerged a coherency: perhaps the one who had +done this was still in or about the temple. The remembrance of +Chatterjee immediately appeared to deny it. A solution of the affair +unreeled quickly. Chatterjee, the avenger ... a fatal mistake. That +explained the native's look of terror when he met Trent on the road, +explained his flight. + +Nevertheless, Trent made a search of the ruins and returned to the body. +The face, outlined boyishly in the pallid moonlight, commanded his gaze +with hypnotic insistence. Now that the first acute horror had dwindled, +he was conscious of an abysmal loneliness, an ache that habited every +nerve and fiber of his being. + +He must notify Colonel Urqhart. But the body, what of that? He couldn't +leave it lying in this den of vipers. The very suggestion horrified him, +although he knew the body was but a husk of flesh. He had some +authority; he'd act on his own responsibility. + +An involuntary dread ran through him as he slipped his hands under the +inert form and lifted it. His sight blurred, but he moved with a steady +stride across the courtyard and through the gate. Upon reaching the +bungalow, he laid the body upon the bed in Manlove's room. When he +switched on the light, the boyish features again compelled his gaze. +Manlove had told him of the dream of "Gray Towers," of the House of +Lords; and the memory of it, returning through the stupefaction that +still surrounded him, sent a poignant charge into his throat. To have +his dream perish like this! Whatever a man's philosophy of immortality, +death remains a shock. + +He was about to leave the room when his attention was arrested by the +gleam of a bright object in the lifeless hand. He was forced to pry open +the fingers. The gleaming thing proved to be a piece of reddish stone. +Coral. It was oval-shaped and some six inches in circumference. An +intricate design was overlaid in silver upon the smooth salmon-hued +surface--a human figure. The oval was edged with silver, and at the top +was a tiny clasp. The clasp was broken. He studied the silver design. It +was evidently some sort of deity, but different from any he had ever +seen--an ugly little god with three eyes. + +What was it? he wondered--part of a necklace, an ornament? The broken +clasp testified that it had been wrenched from its fastening. Perhaps in +a struggle--_the_ struggle.... + +Temporarily dismissing it from his thoughts, he left it lying upon the +table and went to the telephone. + + +4 + +Meanwhile, at the dâk bungalow, which looks out upon the main street of +Sahib's Gaya, the _khansammah_, a ghostly figure in his white garments, +sat on the covered portico and watched a gharry approach in a whirl of +dust. + +The carriage was jerked to a halt at the compound, and from its dim +interior appeared a form. + +It was the strange Memsahib, the _khansammah_ observed to himself. + +Strange, indeed, he reflected; Memsahibs rarely wore veils, and those +they affected were gossamer, cobweb-like affairs that hid not a feature. +But this Memsahib wore an almost opaque veil, a veil which she lifted +only to eat and when in her room. She had a beautiful face, and well +that she covered it from befouling eyes. For the _khansammah_ was a +Mohammedan. + +She was very generous, this Memsahib, oh, very generous, indeed! True, +she asked many questions--about Major Trent Sahib and his friend, the +other Dakktar Sahib--but she paid for the information. She had been at +the dâk bungalow only since morning, and he hoped she would remain +longer. Business was none too good. + +Thus ran his thoughts as the woman alighted from the gharry and crossed +the compound. + +When she reached the steps he rose and rendered a salaam. As usual, her +veil was lowered. He sensed a repressed excitement in the manner that +her white hand closed upon the post of the veranda; a bracelet shone +softly on her arm. + +"_Khansammah_," she began, in a low, vibrant voice that made him think +of the golden tongue of a certain singing-nautch he had once heard, +"When does the next train leave for Mughal Sarai? Do you know?" + +"Hah, Memsahib!"--with regret. "Must you leave? Has not my +hospitalit_ee_ been all the Memsahib could--" + +"Of course," she broke in, impatiently. "But the train?" + +"At midnight, Memsahib. But it is unlike_lee_ the Memsahib can get +accommodations, for there is ver_ee_ much travel at this time of the +year--oh, ver_ee_ much!" + +"At midnight," she repeated, as though she had heard only that. + +Then she entered--and the _khansammah_ thought he saw her pause, falter, +as with a sudden stroke of weakness. + + +5 + +And again meanwhile-- + +The moon paled, sank. Its senescent glamour lingered upon the towering +plinth and fluted pillars of the temple of the Sacred Bo-tree, seven +miles south of Gaya-town. A warm wind fretted the tapering leaves of the +holy tree; the sunken courtyard was a cistern of gloom where tiny yellow +lights swam like foam-flecks on a dark sea. These flecks of light, +forming a semi-circle about the Sacred Bo-tree, were many little +butter-lamps. Their glow revealed a man seated on the Diamond Throne +(just as Gaudama sat on the same spot in a buried century and +contemplated his Dewa Laka); revealed his yellow features, his tonsured +skull and magenta robes; revealed the stone image of Buddha that looked +down from the shrine with an expression of serene omniscience; revealed +the row of crimson-togaed monks that knelt within the semi-circle of +butter-lamps and murmured prayers. + +The man on the Diamond Throne sat motionless. Only his lips moved, and +his eyes. A hint of guile showed in his face. He repeated a _mantra_ +automatically, for his thoughts were elsewhere. + +This was no other than his Holiness the Grand Lama of Tsagan-dhuka, who +had pilgrimaged from his Tibetan abby to the Sacred Bo-tree--the first +journey of the sort to be made by a lama of high rank since the visit of +that venerable pontiff, the Tashi Lama.... Behold him, then, in the +magenta robes of his office, squatting upon the Diamond Throne, reciting +a Buddhist prayer. + +The patter of bare feet on stone caused him to shift his gaze to the +gloom beyond the courtyard. His black eyes squinted, and he traced the +outline of a palanquin. The primitive conveyance came to a halt. A +figure in loose robes took shape between the parted curtains; the light +of the butter-lamps fell upon a man in scarlet, a man who descended into +the sunken courtyard and approached the Diamond Throne. No mere priest, +this newcomer, for he wore a mitre-shaped hat; a very obese, very +pompous personage as he waddled up to his Holiness of Tsagan-dhuka. + +The crimson cardinal spoke; and had anyone who understood Tibetan been +standing close by, he would have heard: + +"His Excellency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo has arrived." + +The Grand Lama ceased his _mantra_. + +"Tell him I shall be with him when I have finished my reflections." + +The cardinal bowed and took his leave. The curtains of the palanquin +blotted out his corpulent person. Again the patter of naked feet sounded +above the surreptitious whispering of the Bo-tree. + +A cryptic smile slid across the Grand Lama's eyes; the lids dropped to +hide it. He resumed the prayer. + +"_Om mani Padme hum...._" + +Thus he sat--just as Gaudama sat on the same spot in a buried century. +However, the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was not contemplating his Dewa Laka. + +Above him the plinth of the temple strove skyward, secure in the +knowledge of the riddle of Life and Death. + + +6 + +A half hour after Trent took the receiver from the telephone, Colonel +Urqhart and Merriton, Head of the Police, rattled into his compound in a +dog-cart. Accompanying them were several officers to whom Trent spoke by +name. + +"... And you found him in the ruined temple!" exclaimed the colonel, in +the living-room, when the customary formalities had been observed. "Good +God, major, what a pity! The poor, poor boy! His father and I were +friends, y' know." + +"I'm positive Chatterjee did it," declared Trent. "You see...." And he +told of the encounter on the road and the subsequent events. + +"What were you saying, major?" asked the Head of the Police, coming out +of the bedroom just as he finished. "But first--what's this?" + +He held out the oval of silver-overlaid coral, and Trent explained how +he had found it. + +"Some sort of native charm, I dare say," observed Merriton. "Tell me +about this Chatterjee." + +When Trent had retold his story, the Head of the Police enquired: + +"Where's the telephone? Ah! I see it!" + + * * * * * + +It was nearly midnight when Colonel Urqhart and Merriton prepared to +leave. + +"Major," said Trent's commanding officer, "you'd better get some sleep. +Eckard and Gerrish will remain to--" + +"Sleep?" echoed Trent. + +"You'll need it if you're going in the morning--and you _are_ going? +Orders, y' know. There's nothing you can do here. I'll personally attend +to everything." + +"Of course I'll go." This from Trent as he passed his hand wearily over +his forehead. "However, I shall sit up to-night. Eckard and Gerrish can +remain--but I'd rather be alone." + +The colonel cast a glance toward Manlove's room. + +"Poor chap!" he sighed. He extended his hand. "Well, good luck, major. I +probably won't see you again before you leave." + +They shook hands, and the colonel and Merriton departed. Not until the +sounds of the dog-cart had dwindled did Trent discover that the Head of +Police had left the piece of coral on the table. His first impulse was +to call after him, but he decided to give it to him later, and dropped +it into his pocket. + +Through the seemingly endless night Trent kept vigil beside the +curtained bed where Manlove lay. He sat huddled in a chair, his face +expressionless; frequently he rose to pace the floor; on several +occasions one of the men in the next room heard him murmuring to +himself. Shortly after midnight (about the time the veiled Memsahib's +train roared out of Gaya toward Mughal Sarai) it began to rain. That was +the prelude to a storm that crashed and tore in a fury about the +bungalow. In the dead silence following, when the damp heat shut in and +stars sparkled in the rain-swept sky, jackals chattered mournfully in +the jungle. + +The last stars passed and the earth awoke in a bath of gold. Ganeesh, +with a frightened, awed expression, crept in hesitatingly with tea, and +behind him came one of the officers. + +"I'll have to get ready to leave now, Eckard," Trent said laconically to +the officer, when he had gulped down the hot liquid. + +Twenty minutes later, washed and shaved, he came out of his bedroom and +found Colonel Urqhart waiting for him. + +"Just came by to tell you Merriton hasn't found Chatterjee yet," +announced the colonel. "Cleared out, it seems. But they'll get him." + +"Uncommonly nice of you, Colonel," returned Trent. His face was drawn, +his eyes veined with red, and a pallor underlay his tanned skin. + +The colonel waved his hand toward the door. "My cart's outside. I'll +drive you to the station. 'Bout time, isn't it?" + +Trent nodded. He strode to the door of Manlove's room and halted on the +threshold, looking with dry eyes into the hushed apartment. A +diamond-winged dragonfly lay dreaming on the window-sill ... the white +face shone through the mosquito-curtain.... Thus Trent stood for a +moment, then he turned and joined the colonel. + +He talked very little during the ride to the station, and Colonel +Urqhart did not press conversation. In the midst of chattering native +passengers and a few whites, with an engine puffing heat into the +already suffocating air, he parted with the colonel,--a handshake and a +few perfunctory words--and settled down in his carriage. + +Not until the train jerked out of the station did the strain snap. He +relaxed wearily upon the leather-lined seat, a steady hammer of pain at +the back of his neck. He felt suddenly alone, intensely alone--a +sensation that carried him back to his boyhood, to a night when he awoke +in a strange, black-dark room. He shuddered involuntarily. His eyelids +burned. Sleep--sleep. The engine seemed to purr that one word, and the +swaying and rocking of the carriage lulled him into drowsiness. + +He fell asleep, suddenly, with a picture of the hushed room--the +diamond-winged dragonfly--painted upon his vision. + + +7 + +Trent was brought out of slumber by the sound of his name. He opened his +eyes and perceived that the train was at a standstill. Heat pressed +close about him, stifling him. Thrusting his head out of the window, he +read the name of the station. He was but a short distance from Gaya. A +telegraph messenger was walking along the platform shrilling: + +"Major-rr Tr-rent Sahib!" + +Trent called him, and as the train pulled out he tore open the envelope. + +"Chatterjee found in river this morning," the message ran. "Stabbed. Let +you hear particulars at Benares. Urqhart." + +For some time after Trent read it he stared out of the carriage-window. +Chatterjee--stabbed. He let the words filter and re-filter through his +brain, let them settle and sink in. They gave a new significance to the +encounter with the native on the previous night. Chatterjee--stabbed. +Murdered? Or had he taken his own life--in remorse? But the river.... +No. Murdered. That word stood out like wet type. Chatterjee--stabbed. +Why? Obvious enough. The native's look of fright explained that. Perhaps +he knew who slew Manlove. Chatterjee, whose lips were sealed. Blind +alley. He faced a wall behind which was hidden the identity of Manlove's +slayer. Manlove, who, to his knowledge, hadn't an enemy-- + +He stiffened at a sudden recollection; brought his fist down upon his +thigh. Idiot! Colossal idiot! Why had not this occurred to him before? +It was fantastic, yet.... + +He procured from his pocket a pencil and an envelope, and scribbled on +the back of the latter--scribbled a description of the woman he had met +on the Meera road; of the cobra-bracelet, of the encounter and his +suspicions. This he would send to Colonel Urqhart at the next station. + +When he had finished, he read it, struck out a few words; folded the +envelope; returned it to his pocket, and settled back in the seat to +reflect upon the tragic immutability of circumstance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +HOUSE OF THE SWAYING COBRA + + +Trent, rested only by short naps on the way, stepped from the railway +carriage in the Cantonment Station, in Benares, and, after a ride past +dusty red brick barracks, reached the hotel--a series of small houses, +with one main building. To his disappointment he found no message from +Colonel Urqhart. Nor was Euan Kerth there. Mr. Kerth had arrived, he was +told, but was not in at present. Trent left word to be notified directly +Kerth returned, and went to his room, in one of the out-buildings. + +Several hours later, refreshed by a sleep, washed and shaved, he seated +himself on the portico to wait for Euan Kerth. On one end, peddlers were +besieging a group of tourists; on the other, a girl with bronze-colored +hair sat reading, a native in a flowered chintz coat drowsing at her +feet. There was something slumberous and torpid in the scene. India, +like the world, relapsed into a lethargy after the tumult of war. + +When he slipped his hand into his tunic pocket for his cheroots, he +found, instead of smokes, a hard, cold object. Withdrawing it, he +recognized, not without some surprise, the oval of coral he had found in +Manlove's hand. He remembered that Merriton had left it on the table in +his bungalow, and he had put it in his pocket with the intention of +returning it to the Head of Police before leaving Gaya. He would have to +send it back, now that a new complication had arisen--namely, the death +of Chatterjee; it might prove a valuable clue. + +He studied it. Time had mellowed the design and smoothed the once-sharp +edges of the silver that rimmed the oval. Coral, he knew, was rarely +used for purposes of ornamentation in India. Too, the three-eyed deity, +a hideous figure, puzzled him, though he was by no means unversed in the +symbolism of the many religions of the land. Coral and silver. The +combination haunted him, was linked with an illusive fragment in his +memory. It came to him suddenly. Tibet. Coral and silver from Tibet. +While he was stationed at Darjeeling he frequently saw men from Phari +and Gyangste with coral and silver ornaments. + +He continued to stare at the oval. The ugly face of the three-eyed +little god seemed to mock him; challenged him to fathom the power that +impelled these waves of mystery that lapped up and touched him, and +receded with their secrets. It brought a vision, too, of the hushed room +at Gaya. + +That was a hurt which only the ointment of time could heal. The tissues +of human relationship mend slowly. His friendship for Manlove had taken +seed deeply, in a measure unconsciously, nurtured by months of intimate +companionship; and now his sensitive nature tingled and throbbed at the +violence with which it had been wrenched from its roots. + +With the murder looming in his thoughts, his mission shrank. Adventure! +Fabulous isles!... Queer how last night's stars lose their fever and +passion when they become a memory. But perhaps the work would distract +him. At least it was different, and in his present mental condition the +very thought of medicines and human ills was intolerable. + +Shadows lengthened between the buildings; the peddlers and tourists +disappeared; the bronze-haired girl had closed her book and lay back in +the chair, staring into space. Upon her he unconsciously focussed his +attention, and as he contemplated her, impersonally and as he would an +inanimate object, she shifted her eyes to him, stared coolly, turned +away, rose and entered her room. + +And Trent forgot her. + +A few minutes later, as he was at the point of making another inquiry +about Euan Kerth, he saw a man leave the central building and move +toward the portico where he sat--a man who approached and spoke his +name. + +"Major Trent?" + +They shook hands. Kerth was an immaculately dressed fellow, with smooth, +olive-tinted features. A rather Mephistophelian face. A small black +mustache, carefully waxed, helped the suggestion. His hair was +shiny-black, as were his eyes, and his dark complexion was only +emphasized by white twills and a white felt hat. His fingers were long +and slim, almost too well-shaped to be masculine. Something very fine +and sleek, Gallic rather than Anglo-Saxon--that was Euan Kerth. + +"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologized in a +too-long-in-the-tropics drawl. "I've been with the Commissioner. You +arrived this afternoon?" + +Trent nodded. He saw behind the assumed languorous air a keen, searching +glance; Kerth was measuring him as he was measuring Kerth. He came to +the tentative decision that he wasn't quite sure he liked him. + +"Sit down, won't you?"--perfunctorily. + +Kerth dropped with lazy grace into a chair and sat with his legs +sprawled wide apart. He proffered some of the blackest cheroots Trent +had ever seen. + +"My Tamils," he explained, with an indolent smile. When the smokes were +lighted, he asked: "Just how much do you know of this little party we're +about to start, major?" + +"As little as possible, I think." + +Kerth puffed on his cheroot. "Ever heard of this woman who styles +herself the Swaying Cobra?" + +"Never." + +"Neither have I." A pause. "Of course you've heard of Chavigny?" + +Trent's answer was a smile. + +"We almost got him the other day, in Delhi. We traced him to a native +serai--Queen's Serai; but he eluded us. Left only a few blood-stains on +the floor of his room. Blood-stains sometimes tell a lot, but they +didn't in this instance. But Chavigny's bottled up in Delhi. Yet"--Kerth +smiled--"yet I wouldn't be at all surprised if he pulled the wool over +the Department's eyes. Of course you think he's involved in this +affair?" + +Trent's eyes followed the spiral of smoke from his cheroot. + +"He might be," was the slow reply, "and, again, he might not. What does +Sir Francis think?" + +A wry smile. "He rarely confides in the Department. At any rate, I don't +fancy we'll encounter this Chavigny. You know he's been running at large +under the name of Leroux--Gilbert Leroux. Remember that; might be useful +some time. If you want my opinion--But I'm sure you don't. Now, as for +this Swaying Cobra--" + +But he was interrupted as a porter appeared and salaamed. + +"Major Trent Sahib?" he enquired. + +Trent nodded and received an envelope with his name written upon it. + +"Pardon me"--this to Kerth as he tore off the end. + +The missive was written in English, in feminine handwriting, and carried +a faint, illusive odor--that of sandalwood. + + GREETINGS! + + I, the Swaying Cobra, welcome you to the Sacred City and beg + the honor of a visit from you to-night. If you will be at the + shop of Abdul Kerim, in the Sadar Bazaar, at eight-thirty + o'clock, my trusted servant, Chandra Lal, will meet you and + conduct you to my humble dwelling. + + Your faithful servant, + + THE SWAYING COBRA + +When he had read it, he handed it to Kerth, who let his eyes run down +the page and smiled. + +"Suppose we move to the dining-hall?" the latter suggested. "I'll finish +what I have to say there." + +Trent assented, and they rose and left the veranda. + +As the purple-tongued shadows lapped them up, the last of the row of +doors opened, and the girl with the bronze hair came out and moved after +them toward the dining-hall. + + +2 + +"In other words," said Kerth, as a soft-shod "boy" arrayed the meal +before them, "you are to deliver yourself blindfolded into the hands of +this Swaying Cobra, and if she says go to the moon, then, according to +the Old Man, you're to go there, without questioning." + +Trent listened, apparently abstractedly, for he was studying the +amazingly clear profile of the girl at the next table. Punkahs, worked +by electricity, disturbed straying tendrils of reddish-gold hair. + +"The woman mystifies me as much as the affair itself," Kerth went on. +"Who is she? It's evident the Old Man trusts her--to a degree. From her +name, 'Swaying Cobra,' I'd judge she's a nautch, yet, on the other hand, +I'm inclined to think she's above that. Fact is, the Old Man was too +infernally secretive about her; seemed afraid he'd tell me something. +However, he isn't absolutely sure of her. If he was, I wouldn't be +here." + +A tourist, was Trent's conclusion. (For he was still studying the girl.) +She choked over the greasy, peppery curry concoction. A moment later her +soft voice floated to him as she spoke to her "boy." + +"Confound him! Is he listening to me?" Kerth wondered. Then aloud, "My +part is this: I'm to rig myself up as a native--a Rajput--and accompany +you as your servant. My name will be Rawul Din." + +Trent's eyes turned sharply from the girl to Kerth. He noticed, +incidentally, that the latter's hair would need no lamp-black to make it +like a native's. + +"Suppose she objects?" + +Kerth smiled--an expression that was almost sinister because of his +dark, satanic features. + +"That's the point: she _must not_ object!" After a pause he resumed: +"The Old Man wanted that firmly impressed. In some way or other she must +be forced to agree to that condition. You're the diplomat of this +expedition; that means it's up to you. So said the Old Man. I'm to be +the connecting link between you and the Department." + +"Is that keeping faith with her?" + +"According to the letter of the contract, yes; morally, no. As I +understand it, she demanded your word of honor you wouldn't +'communicate' any information. Therefore, you must not; what I don't +hear and learn for myself is the Department's loss. Neat way of beating +the devil around the bush, isn't it?" + +It was not visible upon Trent's face whether or not he agreed with +Kerth. However, his next question hinted negatively. + +"If she discovers you're not Rawul Din, the Rajput, what then?" + +Kerth shrugged. "_Adrushtam!_" he said, which means, "It is Fate!" Then +he lighted a cheroot and leaned upon his elbows, a queer smile lurking +in the corners of his mouth. "It means this, major," he continued. "If +she's loyal, as the Old Man believes, she will either be very angry and +throw over the whole business, or overlook it and simply demand that +espionage be discontinued. But"--his face, veiled by smoke, looked more +satanic than ever--"if she isn't loyal, then--well, we'll both +probably...." He finished with a lift of his eyebrows. + +Trent watched the bronze-haired girl as she left the dining-hall--as did +others, for she was a type to draw eyes. + +"To-night's the test," Kerth observed aloud. "If you succeed in forcing +your point, good. Otherwise, I return to Delhi." He looked at his watch. +"It's close to seven now, and my metamorphosis will require some time. +Shall we adjourn?" + +They did. + + +3 + +Before Trent left his room he placed the oval of coral in his handbag; +then he went out on the portico to smoke and watch the stars gather +about the cleaving silhouette of a church steeple across from the hotel +grounds. + +At one end of the veranda two shadowy forms were conversing; a woman's +voice drifted to him, a soft voice that slurred and caressed the words +it spoke. It was vaguely familiar, and in a detached manner he +identified it with the girl of the dining-hall. + +The phosphorescent hands of his wrist-watch crept to five minutes to +eight before Euan Kerth put in his appearance. A heavy footstep +announced a turbaned man. He halted in the light cast from a window; +executed a salaam. He wore white breeches, an alpaca coat and a white +shawl. A huge turban shadowed a brown face and a carefully waxed +mustache. Had it not been for that and the slim hands, Trent would not +have recognized him. + +"_Salaam, Huzoor!_" was his greeting. "Is the _Huzoor_ ready?"--this in +the manner of a native trying to affect an Oxford accent. + +Trent nodded and rose, and Kerth fell in behind. + +"There's no need to take a gharry," said Kerth. "The Sadar Bazaar isn't +far." + +Their walk led them past the dusty red brick barracks that Trent had +seen that afternoon, and within a short while they reached the Sadar +Bazaar, where, after many inquiries, they were directed to the shop of +Abdul Kerim--a dingy little hole in a narrow lane. A native was lounging +in the doorway, but at their approach he straightened up and salaamed. + +"Major Trent Sahib?" he queried respectfully, with a grin that displayed +betel-stained teeth. "I am Chandra Lal." Then he looked inquisitively at +Kerth. "Who is this, Sahib?" + +"My servant." + +Chandra Lal shook his head. "I was instructed to bring only Major Trent +Sahib." + +"But it is my wish that my bearer accompany me." + +The native shifted uncomfortably. "The sahib's wish is law; yet if I do +other than I have been bidden I will be a disobedient servant." Another +glimpse of scarlet teeth; a rather nervous smile. "So what shall I do, +Sahib?" + +"My man shall go--_maloom hai_!"--sternly. "I will be responsible to +your mistress." + +Chandra Lal saluted. "_Achcha_, Sahib! I have a carriage in the street!" + +At the mouth of the lane a landau was waiting, and when Trent and Kerth +were seated on cushioned springs, Chandra Lal flicked his whip. + +Out of the Cantonment they were whirled, and eastward into the old city, +where constricted streets refused passage to any vehicle. They drew up +by an oval-shaped, tree-grown expanse, and the landau was left in charge +of a man who was waiting for that particular purpose. Then began a +journey on foot that was memorable to the two Englishmen because of the +muddle of dim, narrow highways into which it took them. Chandra Lal +leading, they percolated through streets and passages that stank of +every unpleasantness known to Indian cities; mere clefts where the stars +swam at distances immeasurable; stairs, tunneled lanes and alleys, and +amidst ramshackle, tumbled buildings and temples and shrines. + +Trent's sense of direction was completely baffled when they came at +length to a quarter where the houses were more pretentious--a long +street of several-storied dwellings, of projecting eaves, of white walls +and of latticed windows that hinted at the lurking mystery of zenana and +harem. + +Into one of these houses the native guided them, up a short flight of +stairs and into a dark room. The air was fresh and cool, fanned by +invisible punkahs. A snap brought on electric lights, and Trent blinked +about him; blinked and suppressed a smile, for he realized the entrance +into the room while it was yet unlighted was done for purely dramatic +effect. + +His eyes, roving around the chamber, missed not a detail; a chamber +wholly amazing and incredible to the Westerner, who rarely, if ever, +sees into the houses of the wealthy, high caste Hindus. Trent, however, +(to whom India was an open book, as much as it ever will be to any white +man) was only mildly surprised. The chandeliers were crystal, tinted +amber by the yellow lights. Brassware and gold brocade (the latter hung +to hide all doors except the one by which they had entered) introduced +an effect of rich browns and richer golds; and a spire of incense +uncoiled from a brazen bowl to be dispelled by punkahs and leave the +heavy fragrance of musk swimming in the air. + +"My mistress will join you presently," announced Chandra Lal. "Be +seated, Sahib, and you will be served with refreshments!" + +Trent flung himself upon a divan pushed against the wall; silken +cushions yielded to his weight and clung to him caressingly. Kerth +dropped cross-legged at his feet. + +Before Chandra Lal made his exit he drew the gold-hued draperies +opposite where Trent reclined, drew bamboo blinds and disclosed a white +arch that framed a portion of a garden. Stone steps sank into a +courtyard where rustling shrubs wove shadows about a fountain; falling +water played flute-notes on a tiled basin; stars scraped a white wall. + +"She's no novice, this cobra," thought Trent. "Wonder if she's anything +like her lair?" + +"... wine," thought Kerth. "And we must drink it ... unless--yes, guile +for guile." + +Suddenly, from behind gold curtains, came the faint whispering of music. +Trent smothered an insurgent desire to laugh. Incongruity, the essence +of India! The music was made by a gramophone! Presently he recognized +the tune--Tschaikowsky's "Serenade Melancholique"! + +He glanced furtively at Kerth. The latter's face was expressionless, his +slim hands toying with the tassel of a cushion. Trent sensed in his +attitude the same wild desire to laugh that possessed him. + +"Steady!" he mentally encouraged himself, fixing his gaze upon a piece +of brassware close by--a _lota_ overlaid with copper and chased with +mythological figures. "Hmm.... Half as old as India, I'll wager," ran +his musings. "Siva--who the deuce is the other chap?" + +Gold brocades parted and a turbaned servant glided out silently with a +tray, which he placed on a pearl-inlaid table. Claret-hued wine glowed +in twin beaten-brass goblets, rich as melted rubies. One he passed to +Trent, the other to Kerth. Then he made a soundless departure. + +Inwardly, Trent smiled. And drained his goblet. The gramophone ceased; +only the music of the fountain stole to him, with a breath of fragrant +shrubs that made the incense seem sensuous and heavy. + +Again the brass _lota_ claimed his gaze; held it until he heard a sigh +from Kerth and looked down to see the latter's eyelids droop, to see his +eyes close and his chin sink into his white shawl. + +"Damn!" he swore, almost inaudibly, and his hand sprang to Kerth's +shoulder and gripped it none too gently. "Rawul Din!" + +As he pronounced the name, Kerth fell against the cushions of the divan, +drugged in sleep. Some one laughed--a laugh that rippled low in the +throat. Trent did not look toward the sound immediately, although that +was his first impulse. He let his eyes turn naturally and rest, at first +incredulously, upon the woman who had entered and who stood regarding +him with a mocking smile. The blood flooded his temples; after a second +it receded, leaving him cold, numb, with a tingling sense of unreality. +He did not rise; merely stared; and presently forced a smile. + +"Sarojini Nanjee," he said, trying to put down the emotions that +declared insurrection against his will. And he repeated, "Sarojini +Nanjee, the Swaying Cobra?" He smiled. "I confess, I never once +suspected." + +Outlined against the gold draperies she stood, dressed as nautches +dress, only with more richness and without the customary head-scarf. Her +garments were full and as shimmery as cobwebs in the sun, and confined +at the waist with a goldcloth girdle that matched the tint of her +marvelously smooth skin. Her eyes burned under heavy lids, burned and +mocked him; and by their feverish brightness he understood that this +meeting wrought in her an excitement equal to his, although she was +prepared for it. + +"I did not intend that you should suspect," she told him as she moved to +the divan where he reclined. "I knew you would not come if you did." + +Not until then did he rise. He smiled, and the smile lingered as she +bent over Kerth and drew back the lids from his eyes. + +"Why did you disobey me by bringing this man?" she demanded, and, +assured that Kerth was drugged, dropped gracefully upon the cushions. + +"Why did you drug him?" he countered. + +The blood still throbbed at his temples. The irony of it, that they +should meet again! And on this mission! She was as beautiful as ever. +But the lure of her eyes--eyes as purple as moist violets--of her smooth +golden skin and lithe body, no longer affected him. All that was in the +sepulcher of the past. A memory that was like the taste of stale wine +upon the tongue. + +"I put a sleeping powder in his wine because what I am going to say is +for only _your_ ears," she replied. + +"And you're called the Swaying Cobra," he mused, more to himself than to +the woman, "or did another write that note?" + +"I am the Swaying Cobra." A pause. She studied him from under +half-lowered lids. "I dance for those I love. I have only venom for +those I hate." + +The Swaying Cobra! He almost laughed. That was a good symptom, that he +could be amused. A pretty viper! Resolving to let her open the subject +of his visit, he allowed his eyes to wander about the room. + +"Here I cease trying to be an Englishwoman," she said, perceiving his +inquisitive look. He did not fail to register the ring of bitterness +beneath that assertion. "In Jehelumpore and in Delhi it is different, +but here--here I am a Rajputni." Another pause. She laughed, and it was +not without a sting. "I know what you are thinking: that you will refuse +to work with me because--because of a foolish Anglo-Saxon +sentimentalism!" + +She waited for him to respond; he did not. + +"But why not forget that we ever knew each other--and did we ever really +know each other? Why not regard this as an impersonal affair? +Individuals do not count where an empire is concerned." + +Trent smiled discreetly and held his tongue. + +"I bear you no rancor," she went on. "On the contrary, I recognize and +respect the qualities that prompted me to select you for this +mission--imagination, wits, honor! Yes, for these things I chose +you--forgetting that when we last saw each other it was not under the +most pleasant circumstances. What is dead is dead." + +She fell silent, and he spoke for the first time. + +"You've anticipated," he said. "I was sent here to work with you and I +intend to. I've already forgot that we ever met before to-night. What is +dead is dead." + +The woman smiled--but had she known what was in his mind at that moment +she might not have been so pleased. However, she did not. And she lay +back among the brocaded cushions, quite at ease, her hands clasped +behind her head, chin tilted, eyes looking upon him as a cat's eyes look +upon the mouse it is about to play with. + +All of which did not pass unobserved by Trent, who pictured, instead of +a woman lying upon the gold silks with her head lifted, a lithe, +beautiful cobra with its black hood raised above the cushions; pictured +her thus, and returned her gaze with frankness and a smile that disarmed +her. + +She clapped her hands and a servant brought wine. "Were you well +informed as to the terms of the agreement?" she questioned, handing him +a cup of claret-hued liquor. + +"I believe so." + +"That when you leave this house you are no longer Major Arnold Trent, +but another--a well of secrets from which no man can draw, and as mute +as the Buddha at Sarnath?" + +He demonstrated that he could do so by remaining silent. She resumed: + +"And you will do as I direct?" + +"To a reasonable extent," he modified. + +"To a reasonable extent," she repeated, and nodded. "And if you do not +understand a thing, you will trust to my judgment that it is better you +do not understand it." + +"Then I'm to deliver myself blindfolded?" he put in, remembering Kerth's +words of the early evening and glancing involuntarily toward the drugged +figure. + +"You will be told all that it is consistent to tell." She took a sip of +wine and surveyed him. "What is your first question?" + +He thrust back the query that came to his tongue and reverted to his +conservative tactics. He sat as mute and expressionless as the Buddha at +Sarnath. When a moment had passed, she announced: + +"You would like to know how I know what I know about the jewels; is it +not so?" + +"I would like to know _what_ you know first," he corrected. + +She laughed--that laugh that rippled low in her throat. + +"What I know is locked away safely until the time is ripe to bring it +forth. Meanwhile, I will say this much: the jewels have not left India." + +"Then they _will_?" + +He flashed out the question with the air of a fencer thrusting at a weak +point in his opponent's guard. But foil met foil. She replied: + +"Did I say so, O wise one? Again your thoughts are as clear as a crystal +pool. You say to yourself, 'Such a hoard of jewels cannot be smuggled +out of India; she is trying to confuse me.' But nay! The gods of India +are many and I swear by all of them that every gem that was stolen, down +to the last pearl, can be spirited out of India at any moment it is so +desired--and under the very eyes, nay, the protection, of your Secret +Service!" + +If this statement surprised him, his face did not betray it; he +disconcerted her by looking interestedly at the brass _lota_. His +indifference drew fire. + +"I said it could be done!" she declared. "Whether it will be is for you +to learn. Oh, you do not deceive me! I know you are consumed with +curiosity, under that shell of yours! Your Raj, well fed and growing fat +with wisdom, thinks it has a clue. Chavigny! The Raj thinks Chavigny is +involved!" + +She leaned closer; peered intently into his eyes. The illusive fragrance +of sandalwood from her hair was not calculated to make him feel any more +at ease. But he did not stir nor wink an eyelid under the close +scrutiny. + +"Chavigny!" she mocked. "Chavigny, the famous thief! Chavigny, whom some +silly Secret Service man tracked to Indore--and lost! Chavigny, driven +into hiding in Delhi! Pah! Let the Raj search for Chavigny, let it turn +Delhi inside out--while we look on and laugh! You--you have imagination! +I can guess what is in your mind, for I, too, have imagination! You have +pictured a gigantic criminal organization--a gem syndicate, let us +say--a flock of jewel vultures who have swooped down and plucked clean +the bones of the empire! And perhaps you even think Chavigny the leader, +yes?" + +She smiled, quite pleased with herself. Then once more she leaned close +to him. + +"What would you think if I told you there is such a band--an order, we +will call it--of jewel vultures who have flown away with riches worth a +dozen rajah's ransoms? What would you think? Only"--she paused +dramatically--"we will omit Chavigny, for if there be such an order he +is not its head nor in it!" + +He drew out his smokes; passed them to her. She refused, and he lighted +a cigarette and flicked the match through the archway. Then he +suggested: + +"Aren't all cards to go on the table?" + +She smiled wisely. "No, I can play them more effectively one by one," +was her retort. + +His brain was working swiftly yet carefully. When he had selected his +words he uttered them. + +"Presuming there is such an order, as you call it, we'll go further and +say that you, by some unguessable means, have become a member; and are +working with them for the Raj." + +She looked her approval. "Presumably"--with a nod. That word was a key +to further knowledge. + +"Then it would seem logical, if I'm to work with you, for me to be +initiated into the mysteries of this order--become a member, in other +words." + +"Go on," she encouraged. + +"So the purpose of this visit, I take it, is for me to learn the 'Open +Sesame' of the order." + +And having said that much, he realized it was sufficient and relapsed +into quiet to let her do the rest of the talking. + +"You have already proved that I chose well," she announced. "But before +I go on you must give me your word of honor that all I have said and +will say, all that occurs until I release you from the promise, will +never be repeated--by word or writing." + +"I give it," he returned quietly. + +She leaned over and deftly drew back the lids from Kerth's eyes; Trent +caught a fleeting glimpse of the whites. + +"To-morrow you leave Benares," she directed, again assured. "You will +take a train in the morning for Bombay and go to an address which I +shall give you; and do as I instruct." Her hand slipped under her waist +and brought out a long blank envelope. "In this envelope are your +instructions. I must have your promise not to read them until you are on +the train to Bombay; then destroy them immediately." + +He inclined his head and placed the envelope in his pocket. + +"You said that when I leave this house I am no longer Major Trent," he +reminded. + +"You are Robert Tavernake, a jeweller, from London. All that is +contained in the instructions." + +"Including the name of the order?"--his curiosity escaping him. + +For answer she clapped her hands and curtains parted to admit a servant +with a black lacquer tray. From the tray she lifted a small box; opened +it as the servant padded out. + +"This is the symbol of the order"--removing a string of beads. + +Had Trent felt any hesitancy about plunging into this blind mission it +would have vanished at sight of the beads--reddish coral beads, with an +oval-shaped pendant overlaid with the silver image of a three-eyed god! +The only emotion he displayed was to moisten his lips; but it required +all the force he could marshal to check the questions that flooded to +his tongue, to mask his surprise and reach with a steady hand for the +beads. Despite his control, it seemed for a moment that he would betray +his nervousness. + +"... the Order of the Falcon," he heard her say. "See--" She inserted +her fingernail under the silver band that finished the coral; the +pendant opened, like a locket. The interior was silver and a name was +engraved upon the back--"Robert Tavernake." + +She snapped the oval shut and he took the beads; twisted them carelessly +around his fingers, until the deep reddish coral seemed like huge drops +of blood welling from his hand. As he caught the significance of the +illusion, he looked up quickly and spoke. + +"Am I to carry these?" + +She nodded. + +His thoughts swung back to the oval that lay in his handbag at the +hotel. + +"Is it customary to have the name engraved--like this?"--with a gesture. + +After the words left his mouth he realized he had made an indiscreet +move. She looked at him suspiciously, then answered: + +"Customary, yes--among those who possess such beads." + +He did not fail to grasp the insinuation that her speech bore. He +glanced down at the beads in his hand, casually enough; toyed with them; +slipped them into his pocket. His heart had not resumed its normal beat, +but the tension had eased. He fastened his eyes upon the relaxed figure +of Kerth and-- + +"It will be permissible, I presume," he began, as though the sight of +the turbaned head suggested the question, "to take my bearer along?" + +Did a smile flicker across her eyes, he wondered, or was it only his +fancy? The answer came decisively. + +"It is scarcely practicable." + +"Why?"--a shade too artlessly. + +"Servants have eyes to see and ears to hear." + +Something in her tone caused him to wonder if she had penetrated under +Kerth's masquerade. All the while he was subconsciously thinking of the +mate to the oval in his pocket. + +"What harm in taking him to Bombay?" he pursued, conscious that he was +losing ground. + +Again he could have taken oath that he saw the shadow of a smile in her +eyes. + +"To Bombay?" she repeated thoughtfully. "No"--slowly--"no, I see no +objection. I concede that." But he did not like the manner in which she +said it. + +"Conditionally, however," she added. "He must leave to-night. When he +reaches Bombay let him reserve a room for you at the Taj Mahal--and +wait." + +Trent was discreet enough to accept her terms without question. His eyes +returned to Kerth. He saw him stir slightly, heard a sigh leave his +lips. The woman, too, saw and heard. + +"He is awakening," she observed. "I shall summon Chandra Lal to guide +you back to your hotel." + +Again she clapped her hands; again the servant appeared. She spoke to +him swiftly, not in English nor Hindustani, but in a tongue Trent did +not understand, and the man vanished with a salaam. + +Sarojini rose; Trent, too, got up. + +"_Salaam, Burra Dakktar_," she said, lapsing into Hindustani and +bringing the visit to an end. "I, the Swaying Cobra--who dance for those +I love, but have only venom for those I hate--bid thee farewell until +the gods bring us together again. And may that be soon!" + +She smiled and contemplated him, once more as a cat contemplating prey; +smiled with eyes that spoke mockery as she suffered him to salute her +fingers; and the last picture he had of her was as she crossed the +golden room and parted the golden curtains, vanishing like a cobra into +its lair. + +He turned then to Kerth and shook him. The latter was slow to awaken. +Lids lifted to reveal rheumy eyes, but as he recognized Trent sleep was +wiped away, like a cobweb. His gaze swept the room; he rose unsteadily. + +"I am ready, Sahib!" announced Chandra Lal, appearing in the doorway. + +Kerth opened his mouth, as if to speak; shut it; shot Trent a cryptic +glance. + +"Come." This from Trent, laconically. + +Thus they left the house of the Swaying Cobra, left it with its vain, +old-world atmosphere and its golden room; re-traversed the labyrinth of +streets; got into the landau; whirled toward the Cantonment. + + +4 + +Not until they reached the hotel, until Chandra Lal flicked his whip and +rolled away into the gloom, did either of the Englishmen speak. + +"So you've known her before!" observed Kerth as they approached Trent's +room. + +Trent said, without surprise: "You heard?" + +"Everything.... I'll drop over and find out about the Bombay trains; +join you in a moment." + +As Kerth moved toward the central building, Trent unlocked the door. +After he switched on the light, his first act was to open his bag and +insert his hand into the pocket where he had left the piece of coral. +His fingers trembled, for he felt that he was questioning for the +identity of Manlove's slayer; trembled--and groped in an empty pocket. + +For several seconds he stood motionless, trying to adjust himself to the +situation. When he came into full sentience, he looked carefully through +the bag. He even searched his pockets. But the oval was not to be +found.... Some one had entered his room; stolen it. The realization +burned like acid into his brain. But if-- + +His mental inquest was cut short as a knock announced Kerth. + +"Message for you," said the latter, extending a telegram. + +Trent hastily tore it open; read: + +"Party fitting description bought ticket for Mughal Sarai last night. +_Khansammah_ at dâk bungalow says she asked questions about you and +Manlove. Following up clue. Nothing new. Urqhart." + +A sense of disappointment smote him. First Chatterjee; then the oval; +now this! A series of blind alleys. + +He applied a match to the telegram and watched it burn. + +"Train leaves in an hour and a half," Kerth volunteered, taking a seat +and staring inquisitively at the ashes as they fluttered to the floor. + +"How'd you suspect the wine?" Trent enquired, unbuttoning his tunic. + +"It's my business to suspect. I emptied the cup under the divan and, +afterwards, expected any minute to see it seeping out. As it is, I'm +not sure she didn't smell a mouse. Gad! The way she pulled back my +eyelids!" + +Trent hung his tunic on a chair. "Don't object if I get comfortable, do +you?" he asked. "Rather done up; awake all last night, you know." + +Kerth waved his slim hand. "Go ahead; I'll have to pack up shortly." +Then, as Trent undressed: "This Sarojini, she's a shrewd one, major, and +I don't envy you the task of matching blades with her. However, you +gained a point on her to-night. I was rather surprised that she gave in +so easily; not so sure, either, that there isn't a trick in it." He +laughed easily. "Oh, I'll wager she has a bag of tricks! And do you +think she was telling the truth when she said Chavigny has nothing to do +with this Order of the Falcon?" + +Trent, stripped but for one garment, propped himself against two +pillows, pencil and pad in hand. + +"I'm sure I don't know," he returned, making a notation. "Pardon me for +taking a few notes; 'fraid I'll forget 'em. No, don't go.... About +Chavigny: why should she say he isn't, if he is?" + +"To confuse you." Kerth drew out a silver cigarette case. "Have a smoke? +And what d'you suppose she meant by saying the jewels could be spirited +out of India under the protection of the S. S.?" Kerth searched from +pocket to pocket for a match. "Have you a light, major?" + +Trent's hand moved involuntarily to his side; then he motioned toward +his tunic. + +"In the pocket." + +And he continued to write as Kerth reached into the pocket of his coat. +He read the notes he had made: + + Who the deuce would want the pendant? Answer: if a name is + engraved inside, it would be very valuable to the owner. Yet + the fact that the coral was found in M.'s hand doesn't prove + conclusively that its owner is the murderer. + +He looked up as Kerth extended a lighted match, took it and held it to +his cheroot. + +"Thanks"--briefly. + +"Do you think," interrogated Kerth, "you could find her lair without a +guide?" + +Trent smiled. "Hardly." + +"I'd take oath that her man, Chandra Lal, led us along the same street +twice! Oh, she's a wily one! And the way she had us taken into the room +while it was dark!" + +He puffed on his cheroot and Trent continued to jot down notes. + +"Furthermore," Kerth drawled, "why doesn't she want you to read those +instructions until to-morrow? Some catch in it." + +Conversation languished, and presently Kerth drew out his watch and +observed: "Nearly midnight. I'll have to be moving on." + +He rose and extended his hand. + +"I'll take a room at a native serai in Bombay--for atmosphere--and meet +you at the station. Until then, good luck!" + +In the doorway he paused. He looked particularly satanic at that moment, +and again Trent was not quite sure that he liked him. + +"Bombay, major!" were his parting words. And the door closed behind him. + +Trent stared at the blank panels for a moment; then, while he ran his +fingers through his hair, he glanced over his notes: + + Something queer about this Chavigny. May not belong to Order, + but he's not to be overlooked. Last alias was Gilbert Leroux, + Kerth said. Kerth is a downy bird. Gilbert Leroux. Names mean + nothing. Sarojini took particular pains to empress it upon me + that Chavigny is _non compos mentis_. Therefore, he isn't. He's + something. What? And--Sarojini is a connection of the Nawab of + Jehelumpore--the jewels of the Nawab were among those stolen. + Find out if she was in Jehelumpore at time of theft. + +Then he tore off the slip of paper, crumpled it and held a corner to his +cheroot. When the blaze lapped up to his fingers he let the paper fall +to the floor, then swung his feet over the edge of the bed and reached +for his tunic. From the inside pocket he removed the long envelope +Sarojini Nanjee had given him. It was sealed and its white surface +invited inspection. He made a movement to open it; hesitated. Why not? +As Kerth suggested, there might be a trick--and he knew only too well +that she was not above chicanery. But he did not open it; slipped it +under his pillow. + +A glance at his wrist-watch. He procured his revolver; snapped open the +breech; inspected the cartridges; clicked it shut; placed it beneath the +pillow with the envelope. Then he switched off the light and lay with +his cheroot's end glowing in the darkness. + +The discovery of the symbol of the Order revealed another side to the +mystery surrounding Manlove's death, and during the ride back to the +hotel he had constructed a new theory--a theory that he reviewed now. +The analogy between the Swaying Cobra and the woman of the +cobra-bracelet did not escape him. One suggested the other. Surely it +was plausible to surmise that Sarojini was the veiled woman, although he +was at a loss to find a convincing motive for her presence at Gaya. +However, Colonel Urqhart's telegram stated that the woman had made +inquiries about him--and what other woman was interested? Further proof +was offered by the fact that the mysterious woman left Gaya on the night +of the tragedy for Mughal Sarai, the junction for Benares. Finally, +there was the coral pendant-stone. Sarojini had called it the "symbol" +of the Order; therefore, only a member of that mysterious band was +likely to possess it, and had not she admitted she was a member? And the +pendant-stone was stolen--evidently for the reason that engraved inside +was the name of its owner. Sarojini was in Benares; it was logical to +assume, then, that some one in her employ had entered his room and +removed the condemning evidence. + +But, on the other hand, there were elements to upset this theory. Clues +indicated that Manlove was stabbed at the bungalow and carried to the +temple-ruins. Could a woman do that? Under the stress of circumstances, +yes. But why move the body--unless to hide it? Or had Manlove been +mortally wounded at the house and gone of his own volition to the ruins +before his death? Possible--but he could conjecture no cause for such +action. + +And there was Chatterjee. Since the receipt of the telegram telling of +his death, Trent was of the opinion that the native knew something about +the crime and for that reason was killed. Had Chatterjee gone to the +bungalow that night, grief-crazed and believing Trent responsible for +his child's death, to administer primitive justice? Had he witnessed the +crime and fled? Of course, there was the possibility that Chatterjee's +death might have been a coincidence--the termination of a quarrel +between him and another native. Yet Trent was not inclined to lay great +importance upon this, as he considered, meager explanation and his +thoughts returned to the woman. + +He could fix the guilt upon neither Sarojini Nanjee nor Chatterjee. Of +the two, he least suspected the native. He knew the woman to be +unscrupulous--whether to the point of murder he was uncertain. True, it +may not have been deliberate murder. She might have gone to the bungalow +for (again) a mysterious reason; might have been discovered by +Manlove.... But the glove did not exactly fit. Nor had he any concrete +reason to believe her the woman of the cobra-bracelet--or to believe the +woman of the cobra-bracelet involved. That the latter had worn a heavy +veil, surrounded her, in his eyes, with an aura of mystery. This he +realized, and gave her the benefit of the doubt. + +Nevertheless, the coral pendant linked Sarojini with the crime; +suggested that even though she did not actually commit the deed, she was +undoubtedly implicated. + +All of which did not clear the mystery; instead, bewildered him the more +and kept suspicion, like the needle of a compass, wavering between +Chatterjee, Sarojini Nanjee, the woman of the cobra-bracelet (if she +were not Sarojini) and a person unknown. + +His cheroot had burned low, and he got up and flung it away, and made +sure the door was secure before he returned to the bed; then he relaxed +and lay staring up into the darkness--darkness that was hotter because +of the thick mosquito-curtain--until he fell asleep. + + +5 + +Trent returned to consciousness gradually, as a diver rising from the +bottom of the sea. He was aware of another presence in the room before +he was completely awake, and he strained at the threads of sleep that +still entangled him. + +The first proof of a presence in the hot, dark void that enclosed him +was the sound of repressed breathing. He felt, now at the helm of his +faculties, a movement under his pillow--realized it was a _hand_, a hand +that withdrew stealthily, that belonged to a dark figure crouched +outside the mosquito-curtain. A turban and shoulders were silhouetted +upon the gray rectangle of a window. He sensed eyes upon him, cat-like +eyes that saw despite the darkness. + +With a stealth that proved that the intruder was no novice, but of the +school of thieves that graduate well-nigh perfect adepts in the art of +silent movement, the silhouette receded from the bed. Trent realized +that in all probability his revolver had been placed beyond reach; +attack by surprise was impossible because of the mosquito-curtain. So he +lay there, undecided, scarcely breathing; and, after a moment, he let +his hand slide slowly, cautiously, toward his pillow. + +The silhouette halted; was motionless. + +Trent's hand touched the seam of the pillow and pressed underneath. It +encountered steel. + +The silhouetted turban was moving again--toward the door. + +Trent gripped the revolver. He turned on his side noisily and sighed, as +though in sleep. At the sounds, the dark figure stepped swiftly to one +side of the window, thus vacating the gray rectangle. + +Trent waited no longer. He raised the mosquito-curtain and jumped. And +the thing he apprehended happened. His head and shoulders became +enmeshed in the netting. Cursing his awkwardness, he rent the fabric +with a downward sweep of his hand. As he leaped through the opening, he +saw the door flung wide, saw the man plunge out. + +He pressed the trigger--and it snapped harmlessly. + +"Damn!" he spat out, knowing the weapon had been tampered with. + +Again he pressed the trigger; again that absurd click. + +Meanwhile the door slammed. The crash awakened him to the fact that the +thief was escaping, and he dashed across the room and threw open the +door. As he emerged, a figure disappeared behind the far corner. + +He rushed in pursuit, his bare feet padding upon the stone flags. At the +end of the portico he halted sharply, almost colliding with something in +white--a something that appeared, as if by magic, from behind a suddenly +opened door; that came to a standstill as abruptly as he, and gasped. + +"Oh!" + +Words died in Trent's throat. The girl, whom he recognized as she of the +bronze hair, wore a long white garment, and her hair fell in heavy +braids over her shoulders; her hands were at her throat. + +For a moment they stood and stared, both speechless. Then: + +"Oh!" she repeated, with a hysterical little laugh. "You frightened me! +I woke up and--" She swallowed with difficulty. Her eyes dropped to her +nightdress, she threw a significant look toward him and darted into her +room. + +Not until he heard the key turn in the lock did he remember the very +substantial reason for his presence on the portico--and then that reason +was nowhere in sight, but was, he surmised, at a safe distance, +laughing at the awkwardness of all sahibs in general and one sahib in +particular. + +His face burning, and not altogether from the heat, he returned to his +room. The glowing hands of his wrist-watch pointed to nearly two +o'clock. + +When he switched on the light it shone on six cartridges lying upon the +table--cartridges that deft fingers had removed from his revolver and +left to mock him. It was no mystery how the thief had managed to get in, +for he knew that entrance could be effected with the aid of a master +key, but it did puzzle him that neither his money nor the contents of +his bag were touched. He suspected, however, now that he had time to +review the affair, that the intruder had not come bent on loot, but +after one particular thing--and when he assured himself that that thing +was safe under his pillow, he guessed that his awakening had prevented +the man from making away with it. + +As he held up the envelope, he was once more seized by an impulse to +open it. But, as before, he placed the tempting object under the pillow. +Then he returned the cartridges to the breech, and, after propping a +chair against the door, turned off the light and stretched himself upon +the bed. + +Again a wave of mystery had lapped up and touched him, and receded +without leaving a hint of the power that energized it. He could not +suspect Sarojini Nanjee, for he saw no reason why she should have the +envelope stolen. Other hands were at work. + +But thoughts and questions did not harry him long. He felt certain that +he need not fear another intrusion that night, and when drowsiness +returned he yielded to it. + + +6 + +The next morning at _burra hazri_, or "big breakfast," he found himself +searching the dining-hall for the bronze-haired girl; but she was not +there, nor did she appear during the meal. + +When he returned to his room he discovered a letter under the door, and +tore it open with quickened interest as he recognized the handwriting +and inhaled the delicate fragrance of sandalwood. + + GREETINGS! + + You will no doubt be surprised when I inform you that instead + of going to Bombay, you will go to Calcutta. The address of the + place to which you are to report is set forth in the packet I + gave you, and which you, being a man of honor, have not read + ere you receive this. I told you Bombay last night because one + can never be sure there are no ears listening, even in one's + own house. + + Your bearer, Rawul Din (who, I assure you, is worthy of the + confidence you impose in him) will by this time be on his way + to Bombay, which inconvenience to you I regret exceedingly. + However, you shall have a servant. One Tambusami, an excellent + bearer, will meet you in Calcutta. Regarding your own man, + Rawul Din: he is, I am sure, a most obedient servant and will + carry out your instructions by waiting in Bombay. + + Meanwhile, I trust you will have a most pleasant journey and + will grow in both wisdom and prosperity. + + Your humble servant, + + SAROJINI NANJEE + +When Trent finished reading the letter he smiled. He felt no anger, nor +even chagrin; he was amused; he could picture with what satisfaction she +penned that missive. She was as full of tricks as a street-juggler, this +Swaying Cobra. Whether she discovered Kerth's true identity or only +suspected he might act as a listening-post for the Intelligence +Department, he did not know; he knew only that Sarojini Nanjee had +outwitted the Government in the first move of the game. + +The remainder of the morning he spent in making arrangements for his +departure. While he was having his luggage removed from his room he saw +the bronze-haired girl--a glimpse of white and gold as she crossed the +portico. She did not even glance at him. + +Two-thirty, with a sun glaring down implacably upon the dusty +Cantonment, found him pacing the platform of the railway station. +Suddenly he caught a glimmer of bronze, a familiar face among many +unfamiliar ones. It may have been the advent of the train, roaring up in +a cloud of heat, that made her turn quickly--and it may not. She hurried +into a carriage, followed by a porter in a flowered chintz coat. + +As the train puffed out, Trent drew from his pocket the envelope +Sarojini Nanjee had given him and tore off the end; read the closely +written pages; reread them; made a few notes; memorized certain +passages, and consigned the packet to ashes. One sentence stood out in +his brain, in raised lettering: + + ... Thursday night to the house of his Excellency the Mandarin + Li Kwai Kung, in the Street of the River of the Moon, which is + in the Chinese colony at Calcutta. + +It was Wednesday now. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +INTERLUDE + + +Calcutta was luxuriating in the amber and blue of a clear day when Trent +detrained in the Howrah Station the following morning; detrained as Mr. +Robert Tavernake of London, in light gray tweeds, instead of Major +Arnold Trent of Gaya, whose military trappings, with his identity, were +secreted in a trunk. + +As he neared the front arches of the building, with a porter in tow, he +was hailed by a drill-clad officer. + +"Hello, Trent!" exclaimed the uniformed one, whom he recognized as a +former messmate. "_Quo vadis_, you old mummy?" + +Trent, not blind to the fact that he was being eyed by a native in +horn-rimmed spectacles and a pink turban, returned the greeting with a +polite smile. + +"Sorry," he said; "You must be mistaken"--and walked on. + +"Crazy?" wondered the surprised officer, "or am I?" + +He stared at Trent's gray back and sunburnt neck--and he was not the +only one, for at least two others did. + +As the porter put Trent's luggage into an automobile, the expected +happened: the spectacled, pink-turbaned native approached, beamed upon +him and spoke in suave tones, in English. + +"You are Tavernake Sahib?" + +Trent nodded. "Tambusami?" + +The pink turban inclined forward as he salaamed. "I have a communication +for the Presence!" he announced, extending an envelope that distilled an +unmistakable perfume. + +Trent did not open it, but thrust it into his pocket and instructed: + +"Get in." + +The motor car rolled across the Hoogly and deposited Trent and his +involuntarily acquired servant at a hotel off the Maidan. There he +dismissed his bearer. + +"I sha'n't want you this morning," he told the pink-turbaned Tambusami, +resolving to experiment with him. + +And the native departed with a most profound salaam. + +A half hour later, over breakfast, Trent read the note from Sarojini +Nanjee. It wished him welcome to Calcutta and urged him to listen well +when he visited his Excellency the Mandarin Li Kwai Kung--"who lives in +that very poetic Street of the River of the Moon," as she put it. "I +regret that it will be impossible for me to see you in Calcutta," she +concluded. "Meanwhile, I trust you will find Tambusami an excellent +bearer." + +"Hmm," he thought, "if she won't be able to see me in Calcutta, where +the deuce will she see me?" + +Then he turned his attention to the "Daily Indian News," perused the +closely-set columns while he finished his meal, and, after breakfast, +set out for a stroll. He moved north along Chowringhee, past +green-grown gardens, and into a quarter where the streets swam in +intense white sunlight and men and women of every caste and color +pressed close to the flanks of harnessed beasts. It did not disturb him +in the least when a backward glance showed him a pink turban following +at a discreet distance; he smiled. When he had filled his pipe, he +turned toward the riverfront. He felt rather in the mood for a tramp, so +he increased his pace--strode on. He reached the Hoogly Bridge; followed +Harrison Road. After an hour of steady walking he of the pink turban +showed signs of weakening. Trent, perspiring freely yet not +uncomfortable, suddenly plunged into a side street, made a series of +turns and came out, eventually, near the Secretariat--without the pink +turban. There he encountered the officer he had met in the Howrah +Station earlier that morning. + +"Hello, Ayrton," was Trent's genial greeting. "Sorry I couldn't speak to +you this morning--but too many ears were listening." + +"So!" commented the officer, wisely. "You're doing _that_ now!" He shook +his head with assumed gravity. "Government's gone mad--madder 'n a March +hare!" A laugh. "I suppose you're shadowing Ghandi!" + +Trent grinned and made an inconsequential remark. + +"Here permanently?" he queried. + +"End of my life, I daresay," was the gloomy reply. + +"You can do me a favor, then"--thus Trent. "I've a uniform I want to rid +myself of temporarily; don't object if I send it around for you to +keep?... Thanks." + +They chatted for a few minutes; then the officer entered one of the +buildings facing the square, and Trent returned to his hotel. + +He arrived hot and perspiring, and sat down upon the veranda to wait. +And before long the pink turban appeared in the street below. Their +glances met and Trent motioned to him. + +"Why did you follow me?" he demanded, as Tambusami, sweat flowing from +every pore of his brown face, salaamed. + +"My orders, O Presence!" + +"Whose orders?" + +"The Presence knows!" + +Trent thought a moment. Then: "I object to it." + +Tambusami smiled broadly. "But, O Presence, it is for your good that I +follow--to protect you!" + +And knowing it was useless to tell him he lied, the Englishman dismissed +him curtly. + +Trent spent an idle afternoon. He did not leave the hotel, for he feared +that he would encounter other acquaintances, as he had met Ayrton, and +with Tambusami tracking him it might make more insecure his position. To +be sure, Sarojini Nanjee knew he was Arnold Trent--but did Tambusami? + +As he lay sprawled across his bed, enjoying the inactivity and listening +abstractedly to the sounds from the street, a recollection of the +bronze-haired girl insinuated itself into his thoughts. Subconsciously, +he wondered why the remembrance of her came to him. He hadn't seen her +since she entered the carriage at Benares Cantonment; didn't know +whether she left the train along the route or in Calcutta. Queer that +this girl should have crossed the border of mere observation. Yet, had +he analyzed it, he would have known the reason. The world, that is, the +great firmament of existence around his immediate sphere, was to him a +scroll of faces. Now and then some countenance was lifted from the +multitude--a swift glimpse of eyes in the dusk, eyes he would never see +again, and for many nights afterward, when he sat alone with his pipe +and the stars, he would spin webs of glamour. A quixotic person, this +Trent.... The girl, then, was one of the lifted faces. Skin of old ivory +hue, he mused, and hair--now, just what color was it? His imagination +supplied a simile. Golden, with little flickerings of auburn--like +firelight on bronze. The figure rather pleased him. Firelight on bronze. +A contrast to Sarojini Nanjee. One the jungle orchid, blossom of purple +shadows; the other ... well, the type one liked to picture at a piano in +a dusk-deepened room, with hands gleaming pale as moonlight.... + +Sentimentalism, he concluded. And dropped off to sleep. + + +2 + +Dusk had fallen when he awakened. He dressed quickly and went below. +Tambusami was nowhere in sight; however, he suspected his shadow was not +far away. Doubtless the native knew of his appointment in the Chinese +quarter, but he determined if possible not to have him at his heels. To +this end he took an automobile part of the way, by a roundabout route; +then, certain he had eluded his tracker, set out on foot to finish the +journey. + +An intense vitality lived in every line of his body as he swung along +crowded streets, a tall, trim figure in white linens, smoking a cheroot +with the air of a globe-trotter trickling through the evening swarm for +no other purpose than to absorb atmosphere, instead of a man approaching +an uncertain venture. + +Native Calcutta was airing itself after a hot day, and a film of color +and life unreeled in the early night. He passed two sailors from a +British man-o'-war, younger by ten years than himself, clean-clipped +chaps. The sight of them brought back the old dream--freedom and the +quest for fabulous isles. He rather envied that pair, irresponsibly +young. Always there, this dream, lurking in the subconscious, eager for +some incident to draw it into the conscious. + +From the thronged bazaars he turned into a quarter that was no less +crowded, but with people of a different sort. It was as though he had +descended into another world, a planet of dirt and filth and sin--sin in +its nakedness, as only Asiatic cities know how to strip it of its +glamour. A foul artery fed with the virus of the East--beings whose +faces were mottles of yellow and brown and chocolate black upon the +mephitic gloom. A woman in satin trousers ran out of a balconied house +and clutched his arm, whispering an entreaty; she cursed him in bastard +English when he thrust her away. Something of psychic consciousness came +to him from the street, as though fanned into momentary being were the +sparks of old evil.... Babylon and Rome, and the perished cities of the +Nile.... + +Once clear of this humanity-clogged artery with its aura of ancient sin, +he found himself in the quieter, though scarcely cleaner, Chinese +quarter. Jews, Parsees and Chinamen; black and gilt signs; open doors +that, like dragon-mouths, expelled the mingled odors of _samshu_ and +soy, of cassia and joss-sticks and opium; an atmosphere that transported +Trent to the picturesquely wicked towns of the Straits Settlements. + +The Street of the River of the Moon belied its name; it was no more than +an alley and it slunk in the shadows of unpretentious houses. Its lights +were dim, many-colored globes afloat on warm darkness; it was as +mysterious as the numerous slant-eyed yellow men who came and went so +soundlessly in its shifting dusks. After several inquiries Trent located +the residence of his Excellency the Mandarin Li Kwai Kung--a dark, +colonnaded pile. He jerked the leather strap that hung from a panel of +the door; heard a muffled tinkle, the padding of feet. The door opened +wide enough to permit a yellow face to peer out. + +"Tell his Excellency that Mr. Tavernake is here," Trent instructed. + +The door closed quickly; again the padding of feet. After a moment the +yellow face reappeared. This time the door opened sufficiently for +Trent to see a house-boy in a slop-shop suit and a black skull-cap. + +"His Excellency sends greetings and bids you enter his dwelling," +announced the house-boy. + +The door closed behind Trent. He was in a hall where a _dong_, swinging +from brass chains, kindled an orange flame against the semi-darkness, +where a stale-sweet scent clung to the air and gloom varnished +everything. + +The house-boy took his shoes and gave him straw sandals, afterward +leading him through a series of doors to a corridor where the rich, +stupefying odor of opium saturated the atmosphere. A sliding door was +pushed back--a black door inlaid with characters in glistening +nacre--and Trent stepped into a dimly illuminated area. + +A lamp with a yellow shade hung by invisible means from an invisible +ceiling, casting a pyramid of ochre light upon a figure that squatted on +silken cushions beneath it--a figure arrayed in a loose yellow garment +and the embroidered boots of a mandarin's undress. He was grossly obese, +with drooping gray mustaches and oblique, beady eyes--a grotesque effigy +made more unreal by the incense that floated up from a brazier at his +side and wreathed bluish spirals on the dead air around him. Trent +received an impression of sheeny hangings beyond the radius of the lamp; +vases and gold-embroidered screens--a web of shadows, with, in its +center, this gorged yellow spider. + +His Excellency rose with visible effort, smiled blandly and shook his +own hands within his brocaded sleeves. + +"You will do me the honor to be seated?" he enquired, gesturing toward a +pile of cushions opposite him. "My house is flattered that one of such +fame should lighten it with his presence." + +Trent waited for his host to be seated, knowing this to be a custom, +then dropped cross-legged on the cushions. Followed the usual exchange +of lilied words, of felicitations and compliments. Afterward, Li Kwai +Kung struck a gong and a little rice-powdered, red-lipped girl appeared +from behind the dusky screens, like a figure out of one of Pan Chih Yu's +poems, and set a brass basin filled with scented water before Trent. +When he had washed his hands the basin was removed. More lilied words, +more felicitations and compliments. Then, a few minutes later, the first +course of the meal was served. + +"_Ch'ing chih fan_," said the mandarin graciously--by which he invited +Trent to eat. + +Bamboo shoots, rice-cakes and honey; roast duck flavored with soy, seeds +of lotus in syrup; prawns, sweetmeats, nuts and tea made fragrant with +petals of jasmine. A very celestial meal. They talked as they ate, and +if his Excellency clung to the custom of balancing food on his chop +sticks and thrusting it unexpectedly into his guest's mouth, as an act +of courtesy, he refrained from doing so on this occasion. Trent grew +anxious to have the formalities over with. He knew he was undergoing a +test; upon the success of this interview, he imagined, depended his +future safety. + +When the meal was finished, Li Kwai Kung asked: + +"Will you join me with a pipe?... No?" + +A ring of the gong brought the serving-maid with cigars. His Excellency +declined to smoke tobacco; instead he spoke to the girl in his own +tongue and she vanished, to reappear presently with the requisites of an +opium smoker--a lighted lamp on a tray, a blue jar containing +poppy-treacle, and a metal pipe. The jar, Trent observed, was a piece of +blue porcelain of the Sung period. + +Then, after the manner of the East, which is to say, obliquely, his +Excellency approached the subject of Trent's visit. + +"There are certain necessary precautions," he began, while the girl +twisted a black gummy substance about a needle and held it over the +lamp, "before we enter into any discussion." + +Trent opened his shirt and revealed a coral pendant chased with silver, +lying against his skin. Li Kwai Kung nodded. + +"And if I say, 'It is a wise man who holds his tongue in the presence of +knaves,'" pursued the mandarin, "what would be your comment?" + +"I would reply with the ancient wisdom of Lao Tzü--'By many words wit is +exhausted; it is better to preserve a mien.'" + +Li Kwai Kung nodded again. "_Hao_," he grunted--and his guest did not +know that was a signal for the house-boy, armed with a revolver, to +retire from behind one of the many screens. + +"It is needless, I am sure," the Oriental resumed, "for me to caution +you, who are about to start on a journey to the dwelling-place of +_He-whose-wisdom-is-as-a-lamp-filled-with-much-oil_, that the discreet +man questions himself, a fool others. You will tread the path of +discretion, I know, for I perceive that the light of intelligence burns +with much brightness in your brain." + +A pause. Trent studied the blue porcelain jar. Li Kwai Kung took the +metal pipe from the girl and inhaled; bluish vapor welled from his +nostrils, half-obscuring his countenance. + +"The arm of the Order is long and powerful, like Mother Yangtze, and its +eyes are as many as the stars." Their glances met; no expression was +mirrored in either face. "Yours is a great work to do," continued his +Excellency, sinking deeper among the cushions and expelling smoke. "The +Order will reward the faithful; they shall flourish as the +willow-branch. The first step of your journey to the City of the Falcon +will be taken shortly--and what sage was it that said, 'A journey of a +thousand miles begins with one step'?" + +The obese effigy smiled, pleased with his knowledge, and Trent felt that +each word had its own hidden significance. Curiosity pricked him, like a +needle flashing back and forth across the loom of thought. But he smoked +his cigar and stared at the blue jar as if he had nothing weightier than +the Sung porcelain upon his mind. + +"As a man climbs a mountain by terraces, so will you travel to the city +where dwells the Falcon, he who guides the workings of the Order," Li +Kwai Kung went on. "There, having attained the summit, you will--er--see +light. The next terrace of your journey is Burma." + +He withdrew an object from under the cushions and Trent looked upon a +packet wrapped in white silk. The mandarin, placing his pipe in a bowl +at his side, rested a contemplative gaze upon the silken wrapping. + +"Passage for Rangoon has been booked for you on the _Manchester_, which +leaves day after to-morrow. Here"--indicating the packet--"are all +necessary papers. When you reach Rangoon you will take a train, as soon +as convenient, for Myitkyina, where you will go to the shop of Da-yak, +the Tibetan, and identify yourself by showing the symbol of the Order. +He will furnish you with a _hu-chao_, or, as you would say, a passport, +to a--er--higher terrace." + +He handed the packet to the Englishman, who placed it in his pocket. +Trent's thoughts were revolving about what he had just heard--revolving +and reaching no end. Myitkyina. Upper Burma. Were the jewels in Burma? +But why Burma? How were they taken there? "Under the protection of your +Secret Service," Sarojini Nanjee had said. Were they hidden somewhere in +the hills? Myitkyina. He tried to visualize a map; failed.... This City +of the Falcon: in Burma? And the Falcon? Who was he? White or +Oriental?... Groping--groping in the dark--a purposeless circle. At +least, this Order was no small one. + +"I believe there are no further instructions to deliver," he heard Li +Kwai Kung say. "Regarding the trivial matter of your--er--incidentals, I +presume you have been told to keep an account and submit it at the +proper time?... No?... Then do so, as it is the wish of the Order that +you suffer no personal expenses.... Stay,"--as Trent made a move to +leave--"it would be ungracious for me to allow so honorable a guest to +depart without further hospitality!" + +The little Chinese maid brought liquor--a sort of _arak_ that, despite +his Excellency's comment that it was a draught of the gods, tasted like +sweetened vinegar to Trent. As the Englishman sipped the wine he +continued to mull over what Li Kwai Kung had told him. The +formidableness of the Order amazed him, troubled him not a little. This +Falcon had a nest in Calcutta and Myitkyina. Where else? What of his +brood? Why not, he mused, report what he knew to the Intelligence +Department; let them swoop down upon these two nests; thus avoid any +treachery that Sarojini might contemplate? An idea that he instantly +dismissed, for to act prematurely was to invite defeat. He was under +orders--and he had given his word of honor. Seek the root of the vine, +the seed from which the Order flowered; then exterminate it. + +Trent saw by his wrist-watch that it was nearly ten o'clock when he +finally rose to take his leave. Li Kwai Kung lifted his corpulent person +with an effort and repeated the ceremony of vigorously shaking his own +hands. + +"A sage once said, 'A man's actions are the mirrors of his heart,'" was +his parting remark. "And, verily, I have looked into your heart!" +(Which, Trent reflected later, was a rather cryptic compliment.) "May +you flourish in wisdom and wealth, as the blossoms of the almond tree +flourish after the snows have melted and run down from the Yunnan-fu!" + +Trent inclined his head gravely. "And may the Green Gods grant you the +Twelve Desires!" he returned. + +The house-boy appeared; his Excellency sank among his cushions, like a +spider retiring to its gossamer web; and Trent was led back through the +series of doors to the outer portal, where he exchanged the straw +sandals for his shoes, and left the colonnaded residence--left a world +of mystery for a world of noise and heat, of odorous reality and pale +lanterns that reflected upon yellow faces and sloe-dark eyes. + +He was a short distance beyond the mouth of the alleyway when a gharry +rolled by. He started to call after it--an impulse born dead. It was not +late; he would walk. Motion accelerated his thoughts. And he wanted to +think. + +As he strode along the street, fragments of the obese mandarin's +conversation slid into his brain and receded, like waves gently +insinuating themselves upon a beach. Casually (he had turned into a +narrow highway of balconies, of swinging signs and Chinese scrolls) he +noticed a white woman on the opposite side of the street--only noticed +her, for he knew the type that haunted this quarter. He would have +expelled her instantly from his mind had not she moved from the shadow +into a band of light that extended beyond a doorway; had not he seen +her pause and draw away, as from a plague, as a Chinaman slunk past. The +glow fell upon a face of old ivory hue, upon hair as bronze as the +lettering upon the black scroll above her wide-brimmed hat. + +He drew a quick breath. + +The girl evidently recognized him as he recognized her, for she darted +out of the band of light and to his side. Dark eyes looked into his from +under the brim of her hat. She smiled, half with fright, half ashamed. + +"I--I've been very foolish," she said, much after the manner of a truant +child. "Please take me out of this dreadful place!" + +Trent did not speak immediately; grasped her arm; looked about; hailed a +dilapidated carriage that was rattling by. As it came to a halt he said +"Get in!" much after the manner of a stern parent. + +She smiled again, that same half-frightened, half-ashamed smile, and +obeyed. + +Thus she of the bronze hair stepped from Trent's world-scroll into a +sphere of more intimate association. + + +3 + +The girl was the first to speak. + +"Really, I don't know what to say. I hope you don't think--" + +"I think as you do," he interposed, "that you've been very foolish." + +She laughed tremulously. A voice as soft as a gentle monsoon rain--a +voice that slurred over its words. Wisps of hair were burnished by +passing lights; her throat shone palely. Only the eyes were in the +shadow--dark eyes, deep with mystery and a promise of revelations.... +Old ivory and bronze. A picture of soft tones and colors. + +"My brother would--well, I hardly know what he _would_ do if he knew +about this!" + +"Your brother's in the city?"--conscious of a lingering strain. + +She shook her head. "I'm alone, or I wouldn't have done what I did +to-night--or what I'm doing now. It was brazen of me to come up to you +as I did, but I was frightened--terribly!" Then, with that nervous +little laugh, she added, "But it wasn't as though I were approaching a +totally strange person, for--for I believe you were at the hotel in +Benares." + +Trent remembered his uniform and that now he was Tavernake--remembered +divers things. He decided quickly. + +"You must be mistaken about having seen me at Benares; but I've a +brother there--in the Army. Perhaps you saw him. He passed through the +city to-day." + +"Oh! Perhaps so!"--this rather frigidly. "What a striking likeness!" He +felt her eyes upon him--those dark eyes. A moment passed before she +said: "I must explain why I'm here, at this hour. Of course it will seem +foolish to you, but I'm a tourist, and I wanted to see Calcutta's +Chinese colony at night--oh, it had to be night, because I knew +everything would be tawdry and ugly in daylight!" + +It didn't seem at all foolish to him, only indiscreet. + +"I hired a registered guide. He was to show me the temple of--of +Kwan-te, I believe. Anyhow, he assured me it would be perfectly +safe--and, knowing that it wasn't, but rather enjoying the idea, I went. +But I didn't see the temple. There was a street fight between some +Chinese and Brahmins--Chinese and Brahmins _do_ fight, don't they? In +the confusion my guide disappeared. Perhaps he joined in or ran--I +suspect the latter. I was so frightened when I found myself alone--and +I--well, I walked a short distance--and then--then I saw you." + +He realized he ought to say something to fill in the gap that followed, +but he was not a man given to much conversation and for the time nothing +suggested itself. Finally: + +"I hope you've learned a lesson"--grimly. + +She laughed, and the nervous note had gone from her voice. Again he +thought of cool monsoon showers. + +"I'm afraid I'm incorrigible! Now that I'm safe, I think I really +enjoyed it. Being a man, you'll disapprove." + +"Thoroughly," he responded. + +Conversation lagged for a brief spell. The girl took it up. + +"You see, Mr.--" + +She stopped and he supplied: + +"Tavernake--Robert Tavernake." + +"I forgot we hadn't been introduced. My name is Dana Charteris. I was +going to say that this is like a fairy tale to me--some 'Arabian +Nights' story. Since I was a child I've wanted to travel--to see +Aladdin's palace and Sinbad's islands--and now I'm doing it. I lived in +a town called Bayou Latouche, in Louisiana, U. S. A., and, you know, +Bayou Latouche scarcely prepares one for this!"--with a gesture. "It +reminds me of carnival in New Orleans." + +"You've not been disillusioned?" + +"In India? No." + +"Of course you have visited Agra." + +"No, I haven't seen the Taj. It's a frightful confession to make, isn't +it?" + +He reflected upon the question and decided: + +"It's rather jolly to find some one who's traveled in India without +seeing the Taj. Sort of different. But I forgot to ask where you wanted +to go. For some reason I took it for granted that you're staying at the +Grand." + +"That's almost clairvoyant; I am stopping there." + +When he had instructed the _gharry-wallah_, she asked: + +"You don't live in Calcutta?" + +Making conversation, he thought. + +"My home is the world." Then, specifically, "I live in London. I +represent a diamond firm." + +Before she spoke he knew quite well what she was going to say. + +"Jewels always fascinate me. Isn't it frightful about the gems that were +stolen?" + +"Rather," was the close-mouthed reply. + +"Just fancy losing all those jewels!" she went on. "My brother said +they are worth millions or _lakhs_ and _lakhs_ of rupees, to be proper. +I suppose it's the work of this Chavigny who's reported to be at large. +You've heard of him, haven't you?" + +He answered in the affirmative and, inwardly, expressed relief that they +were nearing the end of the ride. + +"I can't ever thank you enough," she told him as they left the gharry +and entered the hotel. + +In the better light he saw her eyes for the first time and explored a +new dimension of strength and dignity. He felt as though he looked into +the rich glow of autumn forests, spaces of warmth and color and +spirit--an initiation into the sense of discovery and lofty exhilaration +that Balboa must have known when he gazed upon the shining expanse of an +unknown sea. It was a glimpse into some high arcanum--to him new, but to +the world as ancient as the tale of Cana of Galilee. + +"I hope I'll see you before I leave," she said in a way that would have +made it impossible for him to misunderstand, had he been inclined to do +so. "Good night." + +He watched her go.... And when he reached his room and examined the +silk-wrapped papers Li Kwai Kung had given him, she persisted in +cleaving through his thoughts, in appearing from the pages before him +and distracting him; and after a few minutes he re-wrapped the packet +and placed it in his trunk. + +Long after he plunged the room into darkness he lay thinking--thinking +of Kerth in Bombay, of his Excellency Li Kwai Kung sitting in his +shadowy room, like a yellow-bellied spider, and of the Order of the +Falcon. The _Manchester_ was to sail Saturday; it was Thursday now. Two +days, an interlude; then the Bay, Rangoon and-- + +But would he see _her_ before he left? + + +4 + +Morning and a hint of coolness caressing the air. Sampans and other +craft rocked and crooned in the murky Hoogly. Gauzy streamers of smoke +floated over the jute-mills of Howrah. Sunshine drenched the modern +buildings of Dalhousie Square and Government Row; submerged the myriad +bazaars and shops in yellow liquor; crept into the room where Trent was +sleeping and aroused him with an impelling finger. + +He dressed and went to breakfast. When he left the dining-hall his +attention was arrested by a black straw hat with a sheaf of cornflowers +and ripe yellow wheat about the crown. A tendril of hair glowed against +the somber brim. She was talking with a native, an itinerant merchant; a +string of beads hung from her white fingers. Trent approached from +behind and spoke. + +"He's asking entirely too much for those stones, Miss Charteris." + +She turned, smiling. He felt the same warmth in her brown eyes as on the +previous night. + +"You always appear at the psychological moment--or rather," she +interpolated, "this time at the financial moment." + +She returned the beads to the merchant, who took no pains to hide his +displeasure at Trent's interposition. + +"I'm really glad you appeared--for a purely selfish reason. I want to +buy some things to send home, and I know if I go alone I'll be cheated +outrageously. I wonder if you'd care to go with me? However, I suppose +that, man-like, you detest shopping with a woman." + +"I don't object at all," he said. + +"And you really haven't any business engagements?" + +"I'm free until to-morrow." + +"Oh, you're leaving Calcutta then?" + +"Yes." + +"So am I"--with a smile. + +She raised a silk parasol of pongee-color as they left the hotel, and +the sun reflected a rich glow through the fine texture. + +"You see," she explained, "I taught music at Bayou Latouche and I +promised my pupils I'd send them each a remembrance from India." + +He might have known she was a musician. There was a depth of conception +in her that was lyrical, a somber yet thrillingly-alive tone, of which +her eyes were the pinnacle-expression. _Andante appassionato._ Queerly, +that term came to him. His mental portrait of the day before blended in +with actuality: White hands brushing the keys in a dusk-varnished room; +nothing heavy, some old song, redolent of recollections.... + +"Is this your first trip to India?" he heard her asking. The clamor of +Chowringhee was in his ears, but her voice rang clearly through the +sounds, an unbroken thread in the tangle of city streets. + +"No. Mother India called me when I was a boy. I used to hunt with my +father." That was true; for some reason he detested lying to her. + +"Hunting! Tiger?" + +He nodded. + +"Is it true," she queried, "that there are mystics who walk in the +jungles with animals--who belong to a sort of brotherhood of the wild +and understand tiger and python and cobra?" + +"The jungle has her own secrets," was his reply; "things that white men +will never know." + +"I heard a man," she resumed, "a converted Brahmin priest, lecture in +New Orleans. He told of his boyhood; of the magic lore of the +'Mahabarata' and the 'Ramayana'; and of a time when an old priest--he +called him a _Saddhu_--took him into the jungle at night, and he heard +the many animal-sounds--the voices of the jungle. He said that once +green eyes peered at them, so close that he could hear the quick +breathing of the beast, and the old priest only looked into the +eyes--oh, he described that look as so potent and unafraid!--and soon +the eyes disappeared. I've always remembered that. Since then I've +wanted to _feel_ the jungle--and the power of will that can soothe a +great animal. Yet I suppose Mother India, as you call her, is suspicious +of us foreigners who try to pry into her secrets. And yet"--the brown +eyes were filled with reflections--"perhaps she has a right to be +resentful, for men have maligned and misrepresented her so, credited her +with false mysticism, with _Mahatmas_ and cults of which she isn't +guilty." Then she laughed--a little ripple that broke the smooth spell. +"I--an outsider--talk as if I were intimate with India! Although +sometimes I do feel that I must have known India before; a haunting +familiarity. That's why I came--to see if my visions were aright." Again +the rippling laugh. "But I'm sure you'll think me an Annie Besant, +incognito, if I talk on like this!" + +"Not at all"--smiling. "I'm interested." + +"But you should tell me of India; for you've hunted in her forests and +wild places. Oh, it must be wonderful to know the world!" + +"Well, I'd scarcely say I know the world," he corrected; "only a few +Indian and Persian cities--and some of the more southern watering-places +of Asia. I was stationed for a while at Singapore." + +"Stationed? You mean in the interest of your firm--or were you in the +Army then, like your brother?" + +"In the Army," he answered, again experiencing that insurrection against +falsehood. + +"I see," she commented. A wistful sigh. "I think I should have been a +man. Penang, Shanghai and Zanzibar, those cities with such thrillingly +wicked names, fascinate me; Tibet and inner China, all the far places, +call. There's something pagan and magnificent about it--a sort of broken +thread in me that matches the tapestry of it all. Oh, I'm sure I should +have been a man! I know if I were, I'd be an explorer and hunt among the +ruins of the Phoenicians and the Incas, and those other remnants of +ancient civilizations." + +Her words brought a tightening of the cords in his throat. Another who +dreamed of the fabulous isles! But, for a reason he did not analyze, he +could not place her in the picture she painted. Always, to him, the +music-room--white hands in the dusk. + +"But I'll have my fling," she continued; "only in a mild degree. My +brother's home is in Burma. I'm going to live with him, and we plan to +slip off every now and then. A trip to Malaya or Borneo or Java--I've +heard so much of the beauty of Batavia--or up the other way to Siam. +Siam! Isn't the very name magic? Bejewelled dancers and emerald Buddhas +and theaters where they pantomime ancient tales!... I'm not a reformist +in the least, but there's one sort of 'uplift work' I'd love to do--a +'purpose in life,' as some call it. I'd like to visit the far places and +return home and lecture to those whose boundaries are their own yards, +and try to make them understand that on the other side of the world +there are civilizations so much mellower than their own, and doctrines +of existence that have nothing to do with mints and stock exchanges!" + +Her voice was an expression of the high arcanum that he had glimpsed in +her eyes. Here was a woman who possessed the rare triumvirate of flesh +and mind and soul; whose gifts to men were other than brief summer +passions and earthly donations. He felt that it was irreverent when he +asked if he might smoke. As he touched a match to his cheroot, she went +on: + +"Oh, the West knows so little about the East, and the East so little +about the West, that it isn't strange that one misunderstands the +other.... But I'm boring you with this talk," she broke off +irrelevantly. + +"Won't you go on?"--earnestly. + +She smiled. "It's impertinence for me to tamper with mysteries that I +haven't explored. No,"--still smiling--"I'm going back to my ken--to +Siamese dancers and pantomime shows. And that reminds me, is it safe to +go to a native theater? I'd feel as if I'd missed part of Calcutta if I +didn't see a Bengali performance." + +"I wouldn't advise you to go alone." This soberly. "Too, if you don't +understand the language, it would prove rather dry entertainment." + +Another smile. "Why must a woman have such narrow man-made boundaries? +If you hint that it's dangerous, then you'll intrigue me the more." + +A recollection of the Chinese quarter flashed through him. + +"If you insist on going," he said, and he, too, was smiling, "I daresay +nothing can stop you--and the best possible thing for me to do is to +offer my guardianship." + +"It really wouldn't be stealing your time? Oh, it would be splendid!... +But you're leading me by all these shops. Shall we go in here?" + +It was an epochal morning for Trent. After the tension of the past few +days, he craved relaxation. This recess had a warmth and exhilarating +intimacy that was a stimulus to him, and he luxuriated in it, listening +attentively as the girl talked--talk that revealed little brilliant +flashes of her nature--and drinking in the study of rich tints that her +face and hair presented in the straw-colored light beneath her sunshade. +He had the feeling of a seaman in port, a boyish thrill at the freedom +from restraint; a few hours shore leave, then the sea again. He entirely +forgot his substantial shadow until they returned to the hotel. The +sight of the pink turban whipped him back into tension. + +"At five-thirty," she said as they parted. "And I'm sure it will be a +wonderful adventure." + +As she left him, Tambusami approached, smiling his ingratiating smile. + +"I have news to report, Presence," he announced. "It is indeed well that +I am here to protect your interests, for while you were away some one +entered your room, and had not I appeared at the opportune moment he +might--" + +"You had him arrested?" Trent cut in. + +"I went to your room, and hearing strange sounds within, I looked +through the keyhole and saw a man--a brown man. Knowing he was a thief, +I took the liberty of entering. He had opened your trunk--oh, they are +clever, these thieves!--but he did not have a chance to steal +anything." + +"You caught him?" + +The smile left Tambusami's face. "He was too strong for me, Presence; he +had muscles like the unicorn!" + +Trent considered a moment. Then: "Whose servant are you--mine or hers?" + +Tambusami beamed. "_She_ pays me to be _your_ bearer!" + +"Then say to her that I'm capable of taking care of myself and that +you're to be my servant from now on and _not_ my shadow. We'll only be +here until to-morrow, which no doubt she's already told you, but until +then you'll watch my room instead of me." + +Trent found the silk-wrapped packet safe in his trunk. Nothing was +disturbed or missing. However, he surmised that the "thief" gained what +he came after--knowledge of his, Trent's, destination. Was this the hand +of that mysterious power he had felt in Benares when he awakened to +discover an intruder in his room? But what power could it be? Not +Sarojini Nanjee. Who?... Plot and counter-plot. Each day fixed in him +more immovably the belief that behind the activities in which he was +involved was a sinister purpose, more stupendous, when revealed, than he +imagined. Every new incident, like a hand in the night, lured him, +beckoning, but never fulfilling the promise of disclosure. Adventure! +And only one thorn to prick the joy from it.... Manlove.... + +It came to him suddenly that perhaps, unaware of it, he was exploring +the fabulous isles of his fancy. + + +5 + +They had tea at a restaurant in Government Place. She wore the black +straw hat with cornflowers and wheat woven about the crown. White voile +caressed slender limbs and fell away in a deep hem to give a glimpse of +silk-stockinged ankles and suède shoes. + +They rode along Beadon Street in a glamorous after-sunset glow (the car +was threading through swarms whose sheet-like garments blended softly +with the gray pastel of houses and the lingering rose-light) and Trent, +eyes upon the girl, felt the sheer call of youth and romance at dusk. +The very atmosphere was an electrode, drawing its current from the first +white stars. Nor was Dana Charteris unreceptive. She was aware of a +shielding warmth, and not of the physical, in his presence. The play of +muscles of sunburnt cheek and jaw was vital and challenging, but behind +that, more convincing because it was not visible to the eye, but to a +sense of inner perception, was a compelling cleanliness; strength that +had not to do with thews or tendons. + +The theater was in a neighborhood of white houses and green palms, close +to Beadon Square; their seats in an orchestra-stall. Over the pit hung +oil lamps, round yellow moons suspended in cavernous gloom; dim electric +lights in the ceiling; about them, a loose-robed, turbaned audience, the +majority chewing pellets of crushed areca-nut and lime. + +Musicians in white raiment filed in and played an overture, and the +performance began.... A tale of chivalrous deeds and chivalrous days +(thus translated Trent in a whisper, as the actors, flashes against the +rich gloom of a back-drop, recited their lines); of Kurnavati, the Rani +of Chitor, and Humayun, the Great Mogul. Bahadur Shah, so went the +story, was hurling his armies against Chitor. The Rani had sent out the +pride of the Rajputs, but they could not check the onrush of Bahadur +Shah. Chitor was lost. Then the Rani, recalling a custom, took from her +arm a bracelet and gave it to a servant, bidding him carry it, with a +plea for succor, to Humayun, the Great Mogul. The servant departed.... +And the first act ended. + +"And you said it would be dull!" This from Dana Charteris when Trent had +explained all that happened. "Somehow it makes me think of the Brahmin +priest who lectured--a sort of thrilling mysticism; color and tragedy." + +Just before the second act Trent glanced around the betel-chewing +audience and saw--a pink turban. It disappeared as he looked, and he +smiled at the thought of Tambusami crouching between the seats of the +back row of stalls. + +The second act was at the court of Humayun. The messenger of the Rani of +Chitor arrived; presented the bracelet. Humayun, knowing of the custom, +accepted it. By that act he became the bracelet-brother of the Rani, +bound by custom to go to her if she called. Then the servant delivered +the Rani's plea. And Humayun, who was a noble monarch, drew a jewelled +sword from a jewelled scabbard and declared that the blade should not +return to its sheath until his bracelet-sister was free of the +oppression of Bahadur Shah. + +Thus the second act. There was a third; a fourth. Clash of steel upon +steel; the clangor and strident ring of battle. In the last act Humayun +reached Chitor--too late. For Kurnavati, rather than be conquered by the +terrible Bahadur Shah, died upon the funeral pyre. And Humayun, borne to +the walls in a golden palanquin, looked toward the smoky ruins and wept. + +Trent, leaving the theater, let his eyes quest over the crowd in search +of Tambusami. But he had gone. However, the Englishman suspected he +would find him at the hotel, the essence of innocence. + +"Now that you've seen the Chinese quarter and a Bengali theater," he +said as they rode toward the modern city, "what other reason can you +think of to prowl about after dark?" + +"I won't have another chance in Calcutta," she answered, smiling. "I'm +leaving to-morrow; and when I'm with my brother--well, you know how +brothers are.... I felt so sorry for the Rani in the play--she looked as +I've always visualized _Ameera_, in 'Without Benefit of Clergy.' Was +that really a custom--the part about the bracelet-brother?" + +He nodded. + +"It was superb romance." The brown eyes deepened. "I shall always +remember that story of Humayun and Kurnavati--and remember you for +explaining it to me." + +Silence of a few seconds followed. Then Trent ventured: + +"I daresay I sha'n't see you again before I go. I sail to-morrow noon." + +"Really? I'm sailing then, too. I suppose you're going back to England?" + +"No. I"--he hesitated--"I'm bound for Burma." + +She laughed, a bit tremulously--that laugh of soft monsoon showers. + +"Why, so am I. Surely you're not booked on the _Manchester_?" + +The face that was turned to her, faintly bronze in the street-lights, +was impassive enough; his only expression was of mild, polite surprise. + +"Yes--on the _Manchester_." + +His thoughts were swept by two currents, one shot with chill warnings, +the other warm with the wine of anticipation. But for the incident of +the uniform at Benares, the announcement that she would sail on the same +boat would have done anything but disturb him. However, even if she did +suspect his brother-fabrication, she could not guess his mission. As +Tavernake she knew him. A few days more--a lengthening of the +_intermezzo_, rich notes and chords of harmony to remember +afterward--then, at Rangoon, the finale. _Allegro moderato_.... No harm, +this Tavernake interlude; a cool breath to the being, like temple-dusk +after arid desert heat. + +"What a coincidence!" she remarked; then explained, "My brother lives in +Rangoon. But he isn't there now. He had an--an accident in Delhi, and I +came ahead to attend to some matters for him. Oh, nothing serious +happened to him, or I wouldn't be here. But it is queer that we're going +on the same boat. Don't you think so?" + +And he replied in a manner that was new for him. + +"Not altogether. It merely proves that Kismet had a purpose in arranging +our meeting last night." + +"A purpose?" she echoed--and they both were thinking different thoughts. + +They were in Chitpur Road; soon Chowringhee; then the hotel. To him the +throbbing of the motor car suddenly became the pulse of the night, of +the hot street where, on either side, dark faces peered curiously at +them. Subconsciously, his brain dipped back; he saw her beneath the +black-and-gold scroll on the previous night.... Her voice broke in, a +crystallization of his thoughts. + +"I was thinking how foolish it was," she said, "for me to have done what +I did last night." + +"You mean"--he smiled--"in speaking to me, or--" + +A whimsical laugh. "Both. Oh, don't misunderstand me! The thought just +occurred that--well, my adventure might have turned out differently. I'm +wondering, too, if I should have come with you to-night. Instead of a +jeweller from London, you might have been--anything. What I'm trying to +say, and doing it badly, is that after all we're prisoners of +instinct--at the mercy of elements that we have not the power to +fathom!" + +A pause ensued, and when she spoke again her tone was one of light +raillery, yet beneath it was a tense excitement that puzzled him. + +"And consider. For all you know I might have planned that meeting in the +Chinese quarter for a--a dreadful purpose. Even now I may be spinning a +web around you!" Then, with a laugh, she switched the topic. "It will be +pleasant to have an acquaintance aboard. Voyages are rather monotonous +when one is alone, don't you think?" + +Conversation was not at its best during the remainder of the ride, and +at the hotel they parted with a few words, rather stilted words. He'd +surely see her on the boat. Yes, he must look her up. She had enjoyed +the evening tremendously. A last glimpse of her eyes, of their luring +mystery; then she was gone. + + * * * * * + +Trent did not go to sleep immediately. He lay in darkness and smoked a +cheroot, puzzling over what Dana Charteris had said. + +"... For all you know I might have planned that meeting.... Even now I +may be spinning a web around you!" + +Those words lodged in his brain, baffled him. There was something he +could not understand, but none the less intriguing, in the still, +obscure depths below the surface ripples. + + +6 + +Trent did not see Dana Charteris the next day. It was raining and +Calcutta was gray and dismal. Tambusami appeared early and saw to it +that his luggage was transferred to the ship. Trent felt that his very +spirits were moist as he rode to the boat. Even his cabin was damp, +cheerless. + +Shortly before five o'clock the _Manchester_ warped out from the jetty, +her twin screws churning the brown water. Trent, looking out of his +cabin window, saw Calcutta draw robes of rain about her and fade. The +smoke-stacks of Howrah's mills were blurred fingers appealing to a stark +sky; leaves, wind-whirled from toddy-palms on the mud banks, spun across +the Hoogly; only when lightning scribbled a line of vivid lavender +across the heavens was the gray monotony relieved. + +The world was an old, old woman, and the sound of the steamer's whistle +was her hoarse, stricken voice. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HSIEN SGAM + + +Nightfall found the _Manchester's_ prow bearing into a thin mist. The +rain had slackened to a fine diamond-drizzle; lightning no longer wrote +livid ideographs upon the sky, but flashed far away in faded flares. + +Trent did not see Dana Charteris at dinner, as he expected. "_Dummkopf +Englischer_"--thus he was catalogued by a German merchant from Celebes +who sat at the same table in the dining-salon and succeeded in drawing +only monosyllables from him. The gentleman from Celebes was hot, damp +and irritable, and he found fuel for his ill-humor in the Englishman who +sat beside him and ate mangosteens with the air of one who liked such +beastly heathen food. + +After the meal Trent sought the smoking-room with a volume of lyrics, +much to the disgust of his German dinner-companion, who, in passing, +read, "Poems of Alan Seeger" over his shoulder. But Trent could not fix +his attention upon the reading matter, and he sat with the book in one +hand, a lighted cheroot in the other, and his interest nowhere in +particular. He was suffering the first anæsthetizing effects of a drowsy +boredom. + +"... You'll have to go higher than that if you want to see me!" rasped +a voice close by, and there followed a click of chips, a laugh. + +Clouds of grayish smoke, fanned into fantastic shapes by electric +punkas, floated on dead atmosphere, personifying the languor that had +suddenly quartered in Trent. A white-clad deck-steward slid through the +vaporous whorls, serving frosty glasses of _arrica_, or whiskey and soda +to those less favorably inclined toward exotic liquors. + +"... But surely, my friend, you would resent it if _we_ sent +missionaries to your country," a voice not far behind him was saying; a +quiet voice that separated itself from the drone of conversation, a +voice with a peculiar, alien note that caused Trent to wonder, after he +heard it, why it had not penetrated to him before. "Why, imagine the +indignation of your--what do you call them, New Yorkers?--if Buddhist +priests established a mission in that vast and bewildering city; if they +so presumed as to try to press their creed upon those of another +religion." + +Trent was possessed of a desire to turn; he merely sat expelling smoke +from his nostrils, listening without consciousness of eavesdropping. + +Another voice, quieter still and more reserved--an American +voice--answered. "The result of such a thing," it said, "would be ... +well, in the first place no Christian would...." + +"That is precisely it. Do you wonder, then," resumed the voice with the +alien note, "that we resent the intrusion of missionaries? What does it +matter if Deity is symbolized by Buddah, Mohammed or a Nazarene? God is +one. No, my friend, you cannot convince me that it is better for my +people to substitute your God for theirs. In other relationships they +should be friendly, and they are, but in religion ... a colossal +misunderstanding. My people are declining; soon, as a man of letters +once said, the rust of our departed glory will corrode us and reduce us +to the dust into which our empire has dwindled. Russian wine, Japanese +greed and Western vices--a combination too strong for the slender +potencies of our flesh. On the other hand, you Anglo-Saxons, Celts, +Normans, Huns and Slavs will continue to build your empires; to fight +among yourselves (there will be no war between East and West); to go +forward in science and invention.... Yes, I am returning home." + +The American voice asked a question. A laugh, selvaged with irony, +answered it, and-- + +"No, I shall not attempt to 'enlighten' my people. I have studied in +your universities, dipped into your learning; now, true to the blood, I +go back. Perhaps, were you to see me in a few months, you would be +shocked, for I shall be a 'barbarian'.... What? Satisfied? Yes, I +believe I will. Your country has its dramas, its libraries--so very +much--yet I could not but feel, when I was there, that the structure of +your land is a--a _Frankenstein_, do you call it?--of self-stimulated +delight, something soulless. Millions worshipping the false gods of +body-pleasure; vassals of the senses, ignoring the fact that there are +hungers above mere flesh-appetite." + +The voice fascinated Trent, gave him a picture of deft fingers inlaying +a mosaic; thoughts chosen with care and spoken as though filtered +through many translations before they left the tongue in the integument +of English. + +"... I hope I have not offended you," the voice resumed. "I feel no +rancour, you understand, only an ache--a very great ache--over this +colossal misunderstanding.... You must go? Then, good night!" + +A chair moved. After a moment a man in somber clerical garb passed and +left the smoking-room. Trent closed his book; placed his burnt-out +cheroot in an ash-bowl; got up. And the quiet voice behind him asked: + +"Your pardon. Have you a match?" + +Trent turned. Whatever he expected, he was surprised at what he saw. An +Oriental of no common type. He registered an impression of bronze, +almost beautiful, features; a high, Mongoloid skull; dark eyes, veiled +by an impalpable haze of tobacco smoke; moist, sensitive lips, rather +thin and too red. Features that drew and repelled him in the same +instant--face of a Buddha, and eyes.... He groped in an effort to +understand the eyes. The man wore tweeds with the air of one accustomed +to Western clothing, and he had a poise, a finish to the minutest detail +of dress, that, in a yellow man, seems sleek and "dossied" to the eyes +of the Occident. + +"Thank you," said the Oriental, as Trent gave him a match. + +The Englishman nodded perfunctorily and left the smoking-room, a picture +of the bronze, beautiful face, lighted by the flaring match, engraved +upon his brain. + +His curiosity led him to the purser's office where he consulted the +register. His eyes paused as they encountered the name "Dana Charteris"; +roved down the list of first-class passengers to a signature that stood +out from the others by its very _bizarrerie_. + +"Hsien Sgam," he mused aloud. "Hmm.... Sgam--Sgam.... Mongolian." + +And he went to his cabin to fetch a raincoat, still thinking of the +bronze face of Hsien Sgam. + + +2 + +Trent twice circled the promenade deck. The faint drizzle had ceased, +but there was a dampness in the mist that moistened his face as with +spray. Yet he could not bring himself to the point of turning in. The +scene exerted an irresistible fascination over him. The spectral pallor +of cabin walls; portholes aglow in the murk; a gentle vibration +underfoot; the _swish-swish_ of the tide against the hull. + +On his third round of the ship he paused aft, at a point that yielded a +view of gaping cargo-well and the steerage. He could see the forms of +steerage-passengers--amorphous blurs in the hazy night. A tongue of +yellow lapped out from a bleary deck-lamp and licked across crowded +bodies, groping stanchions and hatches, touching twin ventilators that +reared up, like phantom cobras, out of the jungle of human beings. Some +one was piping on a reed flageolet--an eerie, tuneless wailing. He +almost imagined the pink turban of Tambusami among the spot-like +head-dresses below. + +As he passed the wireless-house, at a turn of the promenade-deck, he +caught a glimpse of green-shaded lights. A breath of tobacco warmly +brushed his face; he heard the crackle of static trickling in. + +It was not yet ten-thirty when he went to his cabin. He undressed +leisurely, reflecting the while. Then, lighted pipe between his teeth, +he established himself in his berth with a newspaper. But the restful +churn of the engines had a somnolent effect upon him, and presently he +tossed the news-sheet away, put out the light and settled himself for +sleep. + +And did not. + +Of late, since the night he found Manlove in the ruined temple at Gaya, +he had formed the habit of reviewing, after retiring, the incidents of +the day. This habit clung. Sleep that a moment ago courted him, now +evaded his advances. A picture of the Mongol created itself in illusive +imagery before him. A woman's mouth--and a woman's hands, for the skin +that touched his as he gave the Oriental a match had the feel of satin. +Long hands, they were; but he fancied that beneath the silken smoothness +was sinuous, fibrous strength. They.... But why in Tophet was he +thinking of this Buddha-faced heathen? He shut his mind. But thoughts +refused to be excluded from their dominion. Nor could he sleep. His +eyelids rebelled against closing, and when now and then he succeeded in +downing their resistance, it was only to have them lift the next instant +and show him the dim monotony of the state-room, relieved by the murky +gray porthole. + +And as he stared at the porthole, contemplating it vindictively, as if +it were responsible for his wakefulness, it suddenly darkened. + +When he became fully cognizant of the fact that a face was peering in at +him, it had vanished--but as he sat up, his every nerve alive, he +witnessed a second apparition. + +The murk outside the porthole gave birth to a hand that sank into the +dim obscurity within, then reappeared, stamped momentarily in relief +upon the gray circle, and withdrew into the foggy gloom that had yielded +it. + +Trent sprang from his berth. As his feet touched the floor, he heard a +thudding sound on the deck; a low exclamation; running footsteps. At the +door he fumbled with the lock, then stepped into the cross-corridor +vestibule-way and rushed out upon the deck. + +A nearby deck-lamp shone in the mist like a nebula-ringed planet, +shedding paltry light upon moist timbers and begrudgingly revealing a +pale turban as it disappeared around a projection of the deckhouse. + +And there was not only one turban, for another followed the first! + +Trent threw a glance right and left; broke into a run, his bare feet +padding on the damp planks; paused at the corner of the deckhouse. A few +yards beyond, a companionway spilled a plenitude of light. Voices came +to him above the rumble of the steamer's screws; a woman's laugh. He +stood motionless for a moment, hesitating; then, chagrined, returned to +his cabin and switched on the light. + +No recess from intrigue, even on the ship! Mystery ever at his heels. +Was this another demonstration of the power whose hand he felt at +Benares and Calcutta? + +He fastened the wingbolts upon the brass-bound port-glass; pulled the +curtain to insure against observation from outside. Not until then did +the glittering object at his feet capture his attention. As he saw it a +charge, as of an electric current, tingled the length of his body. It +seemed unreal, impossible--until he picked it up. The contact assured +him it was no vision, that he held in his hand a coral silver-chased +oval with a broken clasp--the pendant that he had found in Manlove's +dead fingers. + +Cold anticipation settled upon him. He inserted a fingernail under the +band that bound the oval; hesitated, stayed by a queer reluctance. He +held what he believed to be a key to the mystery of Manlove's death. A +single move and the name engraved within would be disclosed--the +identity.... But suppose there was no name; suppose-- + +He pressed under the silver band ... and a knock sounded on the door. + + +3 + +Trent did not stir for a space of several seconds. Then, reluctantly, he +placed the pendant under his pillow and opened the door. + +A grotesque effigy grinned at him. After an intent scrutiny he +recognized Tambusami--Tambusami, turbanless, blood welling from a cut in +his cheek, but, despite the wound, smiling. + +"I have him, Presence!" he announced. + +"Who?" + +The native looked amazed at what he evidently considered gross +stupidity, and elucidated: + +"The he-goat that came to your window! It was he who--" + +Trent cut in. "Where is he?" + +"There, Presence!"--with an indefinite wave of his hand. "By the +wireless-house!" + +"Why didn't you bring him here?" + +"He is tied, Presence, to a--what do you call them?" + +"Go watch him," Trent rapped. "I'll be there directly." + +Trent slipped into trousers and coat and made his way aft, up a flight +of iron stairs, to the turn of the promenade deck. There, in the zone of +greenish light cast from the door of the wireless-house, he beheld a +startling tableau. + +Tambusani, in the grip of two white-uniformed men (from the +wireless-house or the deck-watch, Trent surmised), was protesting and +gesticulating excitedly toward a huddled figure by the rail. The latter +was a native, bound to a stanchion with a pink turban-cloth, the end of +which was stuffed into his mouth. + +"I can vouch for that man," Trent announced crisply, coming up. "The +other fellow"--pointing at the native by the rail--"is a thief. He tried +to enter my cabin. My servant happened along and followed him up here." + +He saw, then, that one of the uniformed men wore chevrons of gold +sparks; the other was a deck-steward. To the latter he spoke first. + +"Will you call the captain? I want a word with him.... Thanks." Then to +the wireless-operator: "I'll take charge of this fellow now. And you +might keep this affair quiet." + +The operator smiled wisely (he didn't have to see credentials to spot +'em!) and withdrew into the room where the powerful machines buzzed and +crackled. + +"Now, you fellow," said Trent, removing the improvised gag from the +"thief's" mouth. "Who put you up to this?" + +Sullen eyes glowed. "Yonder devourer of pork lies, Sahib!"--with a +venomous look at Tambusani. + +"Son of a dog!" flung back the other. "Mohammedan whelp!" + +"Stop it, both of you!" ordered Trent. "Tambusami, what have you to +say?" + +One hand pressed to his cheek, Tambusami explained. + +"He is a liar and a thief, O Presence. It was he I caught in your room +in Calcutta--who got away from me! I recognized him as he passed me in +the steerage--and I followed. He went to your cabin and--" + +Trent broke in, directing a question at the suspected one. + +"Do you deny that?" + +"I am an honest man, Sahib!"--sullenness giving away to fright. "That +body-louse is a sink of lies!" + +Trent pressed on. "Will you tell me who gave you that--? Well, you know +what you dropped in my cabin." + +"I am an honest man, Sahib! I was walking along the deck and--" + +"Whose servant are you?" + +"No man's. My name is Guru Singh. I go to Rangoon to--" + +"If you're not a servant, then you had no business out of the steerage. +I'm going to have you put in irons, and when we reach port you'll be +taken up by the police--" + +"No, no, Sahib! By Allah, I am an honest man!" + +Trent reflected a moment before he spoke again. "You insist, then, that +you didn't drop--something--into my cabin?" + +"Yes, Sahib!" + +The captain arrived at that juncture, a subordinate at his heels. Trent +explained to him what had happened, adding--a shade too darkly, he +thought--certain words that impressed upon that worthy officer his +authority to conclude with: "And I want him locked up." + +The captain gave an order to his subordinate, who hastened away, and +Trent addressed Guru Singh in Hindustani, which he felt certain the +master of the vessel did not understand. + +"You would rather be put in irons than tell who your master is?" + +"I have no master, Sahib!" + +"Very well. We will see how you feel about it to-morrow." + +Shortly two men appeared and led the protesting Guru Singh below--but +not before Tambusami had rescued his turban-cloth. + +"It is defiled," he said, looking at it regretfully and letting it drop +over the rail. + +"Come with me," directed Trent. "I'll take a look at your cut." + +It was only a flesh wound Trent ascertained when they were in his +state-room, and after bathing it in a sterilizing solution and binding +it with an adhesive strip, he dismissed Tambusami with a brief +commendation for his prowess. + +"It is nothing, O Presence," declared the native, magnanimously. "With a +lord who deals in magic medicines, why should not I watch over him, as a +keeper over his cheetah?" + +And the Englishman was not quite certain that Tambusami didn't wink as +he went out. + +Subconsciously, Trent had been thinking all the while of the coral +pendant; now it filled his mind. Again he felt the chill anticipation. +His hand shook as he jerked aside the pillow; shook, as he stared in +blank stupefaction. + +The oval was not there. + +As yet scarcely believing, he stripped back the sheet; turned over the +mattress; searched every crevice of the berth. But the pendant had +disappeared. It rather dazed him. Stolen. Once more a mysterious hand +had reached out and spirited away the oval. One thing it proved: that +there were two elements at work, lurking elements. But how swiftly! He +was gone only a few minutes!... Why in thundering hades hadn't he looked +inside before he went on deck? What a monumental fool! + +Which verifies for the millionth time the truth of a certain fable about +an _Equus caballus_ and a stable. + + +4 + +The next morning in the dining-salon Trent saw Dana Charteris, merely a +glimpse--a smile and a nod. She was at a table across the room. However, +later, as he was moving toward the purser's office, he came upon her aft +on the promenade deck, elbows upon the rail, eyes upon the steerage. She +turned as his step sounded behind her. + +"Isn't it glorious?" was her greeting, motioning toward the sea where +the sun had painted a glittering dragon on the intense blue. + +"Quite," he agreed, having forgotten the purser in the eternal wonder +of her eyes. "I hope you weren't ill last night?" + +"Not physically. I was doing penance." + +"I shouldn't think that would require all evening." + +A smile. "Would you like to become father-confessor?" + +"Perhaps." + +She let her eyes rest upon him in a curious, contemplative look. + +"How absolutely British!" she remarked. "An American would have agreed +instantly, but you, being British, only commit yourself half-way." + +"Isn't that diplomacy?" he asked, entering into her mood. She was +revealing another side of her nature. Each time he saw her she unfolded +more and bared to his gaze new and stimulating mysteries of her +personality. + +"Perhaps. But I sha'n't confess to you now--just for that.... I +understand you didn't have a very quiet night." + +The only surprise he betrayed was a tightening of the muscles of the +jaw. + +"Really?" + +Her smile grew into a laugh. "Show some surprise, Stone-man, instead of +trying to impress me with the fact that you've suddenly acquired an +interest down there"--her white hand flashed toward the steerage. +"You're wondering how I know it, and seething with curiosity. You +wouldn't be human if you weren't." + +"I'm not"--forcing a smile. "But if you wish it, then how _do_ you know +it?" + +"Well, it's considered excellent marine etiquette to visit the +wireless-house and worry the operator when one is bored--as I happened +to be this morning in the interim between my rising hour and +breakfast--" + +"And as feminine charm is an 'Open Sesame' to the secrets of +wireless-operators," Trent finished up, "this particular one told all he +knew." + +"Am I to accept that as flattery?" + +"Is it?" he countered; then, eager to learn just how much she knew, he +remarked casually: "Thieves are thick as mosquitoes in Asiatic +countries." + +"I know," was her unsatisfactory response, and, proof that a woman can +be quite uncommunicative when she wishes, she diverted conversation into +another channel. "I'm afraid, Mr. Tavernake, I've impressed you as +being--well, a foolish flippant child." + +His eyes met hers--barely a second. + +"Why should you think that?" + +She shrugged. "Oh, my endless talk of--of travel." + +He took out his pipe, asked permission to smoke; filled the bowl and +lighted it before he quoted: + + We are those fools who could not rest + In the dull earth we left behind.... + +She took him up: "Doesn't it go on with--" + + The world where wise men live at ease + Fades from our unregretful eyes, + And blind across uncharted seas + We stagger on our enterprise. + +He nodded. While she was speaking he thought of the _andante +appassionato_ comparison. Music always--she was that to him. + +"Uncharted seas!" she repeated. "They've always lured me. I felt the +call, but couldn't understand it until I read a tale several years ago. +'The White Waterfall' it was called. It seemed to open magic doors. +After that, 'Treasure Island' again, and 'She.' Stevenson, Kipling, +Conrad and Haggard--they are the masters that taught me the doctrine of +Romance and Adventure. Oh, I've always wanted a crowded +hour--excitement--the sting of winds not in books! I think after one +excursion into the reality I'd be willing to settle back into my +peaceful alcove of imaginings. Then I'd have food for my +fancies--something to remember in the quiet that followed. Don't you +think it would be alluring, in mellower years, to close your eyes and +dream--of wanderings in the 'Caves of Kor'--or the time you spent on a +pirate island?" + +"It's youth," he philosophized to himself. "Youth craving the open +spaces; hours of breathless living!" + +"It would," he said aloud. + +"But perhaps"--her voice sank to a dreamy tempo--"perhaps I'm having my +adventure now." + +(And many days passed before he understood what she really meant by +that.) + +Below them, in the steerage, a snake-charmer--a villainous-looking +fellow with a scar across one cheek and a drooping eyelid--was making +two cobras ripple to the sounds of a reed flageolet. The eerie, +tuneless wails were reminiscent of the previous night when Trent stood +on the same spot and looked below. + +"What would you think, Mr. Tavernake," the girl began, her voice very +solemn, "if you discovered that some one whom you trusted and believed +your friend was secretly striving for the thing you were working for. +Would you call it fair competition?" + +He applied a match to his burnt-out pipe, then regarded her--quite as +intently as she regarded him. + +"Are you making me father-confessor, after all?" + +She laughed, thus ending a very solemn moment. + +"Good heavens, no!... But come, shall we take a walk?" + +They tramped about the ship for nearly an hour; then he established her +comfortably in a deck-chair and sat down at her side. They talked, +mostly frivolously--conversation that only now and then carried a vein +of seriousness. Not until after tiffin (he sat at her table, for she +quite naïvely suggested that he have the steward change his seat) did +they part, she for her cabin, he for the purser's office, which place he +suddenly remembered as his goal when he came on deck earlier in the day. + +He consulted the passenger-list, lingering over each name in search of +one that might seem likely as that of the person who had directed Guru +Singh's activities. There were thirty-one first-class passengers, the +majority English, with a scattering of Americans; the only Easterns +were, namely, an Indian gentleman (Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh, of Calcutta +University, his signature read), a Japanese and Hsien Sgam. Of the +group only one seemed likely, and he by virtue of his name and +nationality--Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh. + +Trent then sought the captain and after a short conversation (during +which he made a request that seemed rather extraordinary to the master +of the _Manchester_) he visited the imprisoned Guru Singh. Abuses, +threats, even promises of clemency, brought forth only: "I am an honest +man, Sahib!" + +His next move was to visit the steerage. A naked child with a ring in +its nose begged for a gift; brown bodies lay asleep on mats; the cobras +were still performing for the wicked-looking juggler. Stupid, +unintelligent faces.... + +On the fore-deck a dark-skinned gentleman in European clothing was +talking with the clergyman to whom the Mongol had expressed his beliefs +the previous night. The former, Trent guessed, was Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh. +One glance eliminated him as a suspect. + + +5 + +Toward dusk the captain of the ship approached Trent in his deck-chair. + +"One of my men searched the steerage," he said, "and there wasn't a sign +of the ornament you described." Then politely, if not a little +curiously, "Was it of--er--particular value?" + +"It had its significance," was Trent's meager reply. + +"It's quite distressing, quite, to have thieves aboard. But in these +waters.... Is there anything else I can do for you?" + +There wasn't. And Trent went to his cabin to shave. + +After dinner he and Dana Charteris walked another mile around the +vessel; stood for some time in the bow, watching the flying-fish skim +the glassy undulations in greenish, phosphorescent flashes; sat in their +deck-chairs in the shadow of a looming cabin (and the spell of low-hung +Oriental stars) and talked of inconsequentials. + +For some time after she left, he sat sunken in cavernous absorption. He +was aroused by a voice close by--a quiet familiar voice that asked if it +were not a rare night. He turned to see a tall figure near his chair. +Starlight dwelt on even mobile features, a high forehead, slender hands +and eyes that looked inquisitively into his. + +He answered that it was indeed a rare night. Whereupon Hsien Sgam +politely enquired if he might occupy the chair next to Trent's. As he +moved, the Englishman noticed that he slued slightly to the left--saw +the twisted limb. The Mongol lit a cigarette. The flare of the match +brought his face into ruddy prominence. In that brief moment Trent felt +that ancient wickedness, refined to an exquisite degree, looked at him +from beneath the bronze lids; then the match died and Hsien Sgam spoke +in his quiet cultured voice, and Trent realized to what fantastic +borders imagination can extend. + +The Oriental asked perfunctorily if Trent intended to remain long in +Rangoon, and ventured that it was a very quaint city; and, quite as +perfunctorily, Trent responded that he wasn't sure how long he'd be in +Rangoon, and that from all he'd heard it must be very quaint. +Conversation threatened to pursue a dull course until Trent opened the +subject of the political situation in Mongolia. + +"Ah, Mongolia!" Hsien Sgam drew a deep breath. "It is there as it is +elsewhere in the East. The Holy Lands, as you call them, are +dead--sterile as eunuchs. Ghandi preaches--is _Swaraj_ the word?--in +India; China is locked in inner convulsions; Japan is a dragon with fire +in its nostrils; Korea and Manchuria are but manikins that act as Tokyo +directs; Siam, Indo-China, Malaya and Burma are the only peaceful +spheres, and their people are children, thoughtless children. Asia has +red wrath in her bowels. I am afraid for her. But Mongolia--you asked +about Mongolia?... + +"The world moves in cycles," the Easterner continued. "It is the +inexorable law. Asia was at its--er--pinnacle about twelve hundred and +twenty-seven; then Europe. Europe is dipping; next America--and after +that?" The slender hands shaped into an oddly expressive gesture. "The +failure of Sultan Baber was the beginning of a slow death for my +country. Now there seems but one future--that of a base from which Japan +can operate in Asia. Japan must have food, too, and already the +Szechuanese and other border people have pressed into Mongolia and +proved it fertile. And we have unworked mineral resources...." + +"But Japan is apparently retrenching in her policy," Trent reminded him, +finding himself interested. "What of the Allied Consortium?" + +He imagined he could see a smile upon the Mongol's face. + +"The Consortium is--forgive me--a bubble, a beautiful bubble with magic +prisms and exquisite tints. Japan will see to it that loans to China are +made as she wishes them." + +"Japan improved Korea"--thus baiting conversation. + +The reply came quietly, but vehemently. "Yes, my friend, Japan improved +Korea. She scientifically reforested its mountains, built roads and +railways, public buildings and sanitary houses.... But Japan slew soul +to erect in its stead a structure without conscience or heart. Japan may +improve China--but it is not for China, but for the time when Japan +controls China and compels her four hundred millions to form a unit of +her military organization." + +Quiet ensued for a space. The myriad sounds that brew in the bowels of a +vessel came to them--the jangle of bells, smothered by decks, and the +ponderous, deep-throated roar of funnels. + +"An example of Japan's purpose and her power is the cancellation of +Mongolian autonomy," pursued Hsien Sgam. "When my people formed a +government of their own, they expected the protection of Russia. But +Russia failed. Semenov, the Cossack adventurer and agent of Japan, +threatened invasion, and my people, frightened, appealed to China. The +consequences you know. Hsu Shu-cheng, with four thousand troops, +occupied Urga. Hsu forced the Hut'ukt'u to sign a petition returning +Mongolia to China. Later it was learned that Hsu's troops were equipped +with Japanese money." + +Trent settled deeper in his chair, his eyes lifted to the roaring +funnels where volumes of smoke were sucked up as by invisible vacua. + +"But there is a key to supremacy in Mongolia," Hsien Sgam resumed. "It +is the projected extension of the railway from Kalgan to Kiachta. +Whoever finances that, thus linking China with Europe, through Mongolia, +will be the sovereign power. Will Japan--or your Allied Consortium? I +think, my friend, the former--unless it is prevented. And how can that +be done?" + +Trent took him up. "How?" + +Hsien Sgam did not answer immediately. Finally: + +"Mongolia can assert her rights--by force." + +Trent lowered his eyes to the indistinct outline of the Mongol's face. + +"She hasn't arms or ammunition or organization--and, furthermore, what +good would a revolution do?" + +Hsien Sgam answered the latter half of his question. + +"It would give Mongolia self-government; and she could refuse a +concession to any power to construct a railway through her territory. +Organization? You spoke of that. No, they have no organization. But I +have a dream--an ultimate--do you say Utopia? It is a union of the +Mongols of Barga, the Buriats of Transbaikalia, the Chakhar tribe, the +Khalkas, and even the Hung-hu-tzees, into a single unit--or, if you wish +it, an empire. Tibet might be included. But that--that is only a dream. +There is but one man who could possibly bring that about--and he is a +pawn of China. The Dalai Lama...." + +In the pause that followed, the glow of his cigarette showed Trent an +imperial profile--like a bronze head of some Mongol conqueror he had +once seen. A queer analogy struck him. Timur the Lame, who seared Asia +with his vitriol. But there was an alien element in the likeness that he +conjured--dust on the reflection. It haunted Trent and eluded analysis. + +"The Church dominates Mongolia," the quiet voice went on, "and the Dalai +Lama is its--how do you say it, Pope? He lost much power when the +English drove him from Lhassa, but after years of wandering he came into +his pontificate again. However, the President of China had a purpose in +restoring him. He knew the power of Tubdan Gyatso--knew also that he +would be safer in Tibet than Mongolia." + +They smoked on. Presently Trent asked other questions, about customs and +people and history. The subject swung to literature. Hsien Sgam talked +at random of Chinese philosophers and poets: Confucius, Mencius, Lao +Tzü, Yang Chu, Kang-hsi. There were giant dimensions of mentality behind +his speech. Every word was surcharged with restless energy; thoughts hot +from the vortices of emotion. But, underneath, was a current of +bitterness that surged up at intervals and injected into his usual calm +a passionate, almost terrible, intensity. It was more evident when he +referred to his affliction. + +"My father, who was a prince of the house of Hlaje Khan, believed that +one of his sons should be sent into your world and acquire learning and +enlighten the people," he said. "I, being lame and never entering into +physical activities, was considered a student--and I was sent. Among the +elders it was looked upon as an honor, but those with whom I played as a +boy and grew up.... Well, in Mongolia, as elsewhere, virtue is in muscle +and cowardice in morality. I went into your world and--I say this with +no meanness--it hurt me. I took back wounds. Many things I was taught, +among them a realization of the truth of a certain Manchu proverb about +women. Yes--I wonder, my friend, why I tell you this, but perhaps it is +the night and the sea--a woman entered my life for the first time--a +woman who came as a leopard and left the mark of her claws." + +As he talked on, unfolding with a readiness that puzzled yet did not +fail to interest Trent, the latter closed his eyes and smoked, and +imagined he was transported, through some reversed medium of +metempsychosis, across a dead interval of time and was listening to the +voice of Timur the Lame. The stars drowsed above them, like sleepy eyes, +and the ship was a dim, prowling world when they parted. + +As Trent undressed he reflected upon the conversation with Hsien Sgam. +He felt that he had looked upon a tragic anomaly in the person of the +lame Mongol. Learning had refined his primitive impulses to a higher +degree of intellectuality; affliction had warped his vision. +Civilization, with him, was a varnish; he did not possess its essence. +In a day less modern, when men were not so well equipped to kill one +another, he might have risen to formidability; now, Trent felt, he could +go no further than that group of idealistic radicals whose careers are +meteoric, attaining little political significance and ending in the +pathetic justice of a firing squad. + +He wondered, too, if the encounter on deck was coincidence, or if Hsien +Sgam had deliberately sought him. The Mongol would bear watching, he +decided, simply for the reason that his own position was one of +insecurity and tampering fingers might send it toppling. + +Until he went to sleep the memory of Hsien Sgam haunted him, like the +shadow of Timur the Lame cast down through the centuries. + + +6 + +Morning and another day of peacock-blue and gold. + +After breakfast Trent visited the confined Guru Singh. The native was no +more communicative than before but Trent did not press his point, for a +better plan than blatant questioning had asserted itself. + +When he returned to the deck he found Dana Charteris stretched out in +her chair, her slim person a symphony in white. + +"Good morning," was her greeting as she motioned him into the chair +beside her. "I reached a very definite decision last night." + +He smiled. _Andantino con languore_ this time. There was a refreshing +draught in the mood that he instantly felt--light, golden wine to the +senses. Her eyes were like liquid amber. + +"Really?" + +"Yes. I used to think that all Englishmen were cold-mannered creatures +and quite indifferent to their wives, as fiction has it. I've undergone +a metamorphosis." + +He continued to smile as he packed his pipe. + +"Are you accusing us as a nation of polygamous practices?" he asked. + +She made a grimace. "Please don't try to be clever or you'll spoil my +opinion--and you know countries are judged by single representatives. I +warn you that I'm in a desperately serious mood, despite all +indications. As proof, I've been wondering if too much travel, too long +a sojourn in foreign lands, doesn't affect one's ideas and +philosophies--in other words, intoxicate one and leave a craving for the +wine of exotic environment." + +He contemplated the possibility that her remark was intended as +personal; dismissed it; waited for her to continue. Which she did. + +"Since you won't be human and ask why I think that, you force me to +confess that I'm leading up to a--a personal example." + +"Namely?" + +"Well--yourself." + +Another smile; he lighted his pipe. "Go on." + +"Really, would you be satisfied in a prosaic English or American +city--after--all this?"--with a vague gesture. + +He didn't know; hadn't thought about it. Perhaps--perhaps not. + +"I don't believe you would," was her opinion. "You've absorbed a certain +amount of atmosphere that has poisoned you in so far as living elsewhere +is concerned. I shouldn't be at all surprised, either, to learn that you +think Indian and Chinese religions superior to ours?" + +"Aren't they?" + +"Are they?" + +"You, yourself, spoke a few days ago, if I remember correctly, of the +philosophies and doctrines of the East--doctrines that have nothing to +do with mints or stock-exchanges, as you expressed it." + +"Yes. But now I'm comparing the principles of religion--those adopted by +our thinkers and real philosophers. Oh, we have our nobler types, who +haven't been blinded by earth-dust! It may be a taint of the flesh in +me, but I can't adjust myself to the belief that the ascetics and +shrivelled yogis that I've seen are the proper habitations for pure +spirituality. If the manifestation isn't wholesome, how can the inner +conception be? You wouldn't fill an unclean vessel with holy water, +would you? It's the methods and instruments through which the East +voices its philosophies that I rebel against. That which mutilates, or +even neglects, the body, can't be a true religion.... But really, I'm +afraid I'm getting beyond my depth. What I originally intended to say is +this: occultism is dangerous to those of the West, minds and bodies of a +different substance than those of the Orient. I knew a man who became +interested in theosophy. After a time he entered some secret cult that +had a temple in the Himalayas. It grew to be an obsession, and now ... +well, he tried to touch flames that were not conceived for man-tampering +and they seared him." + +Trent chuckled. "In other words," he said, "you're afraid I'm a Buddhist +or a Mohammedan at heart, or, if by good fortune I'm not, you wish to +warn me against exotic religions." Another chuckle. "It's flattering. +What other conclusions have you drawn?" + +"Just at present," she responded, smiling maliciously, "I think you're +horrid." + +He sobered. "Please go on. It's like looking into your house from the +neighbor's window. I'm really interested." + +"Or curious? Men who have not ventured into matrimony are, as a rule, +inquisitive. And that suggests another question. It seems to me that one +alone would be much more receptive to these"--she smiled--"these +paganisms than one in union with another. Loneliness--that is, +isolation--is food for heresies." + +That showed him an old vista at a new angle. There was no +misinterpreting her meaning.... Women. A few, but none of consequence; +puerile passions and brief affairs of the starlight, never the full +ruddy glow of a riper devotion, the finding of the One Woman.... And +again, that might not have been her meaning at all. She--At a sudden +inspiration he spoke--before he considered. + +"Why, no, I'm not married, if that's what you mean." + +She gave him a queer look--half smiling, half vexed. There was a faint +suffusion of color in her cheeks. + +"I'm not quite sure," she announced, swinging her feet to the deck, "but +I've almost decided that you're impossible. However, I'll leave you +alone to decide for yourself." + +And she did. + + +7 + +At dinner Trent sensed a change in Dana Charteris. She was quite +friendly, even inquired banteringly if he were angry because of the +manner in which she left him that morning, but there was, invisible, +indefinable, a reserve in her attitude that forbade a resumption of the +former intimacy. This troubled him. + +Later, on deck, he was brought out of his reflections by the sound of +uneven footsteps. Hsien Sgam approached. He was dressed in white and +seemed to Trent almost grotesque--the twisted limb and the beautiful, +yet strangely sinister, face! + +In the course of conversation he asked Trent's business. The answer +brought forth a short discourse upon precious stones. He then touched +the war--inquired if Trent had "seen service," as he termed it in a +thoroughly Occidental way. Realizing that he was being catechized, Trent +replied guardedly. In the East, quizzed the Mongol? No, on the Western +front, Trent lied. In the infantry, Hsien Sgam assumed? Yes, the +infantry.... + +Of course Trent had traveled a great deal, he presumed. Well, a bit, the +Englishman admitted. If it were not too impertinent (thus the Mongol) he +imagined Mr. Tavernake had not always been "of the trade." He had the +appearance of--well, a soldier rather than a "business man"; one eager +for ranges and color and action, so to speak. + +It was then that Trent became more communicative. He was rather a +soldier of fortune, he acknowledged; intrigue lured him. But the Mongol +was as wary as he, for, perceiving the change in tactics, he turned the +talk into another channel. + +A few minutes later he moved on. Trent watched him limp off and puzzled +over this anomaly of a man. What was his object in catechizing him? He +could not even surmise; but he determined to take a drastic step toward +finding out. + +His first move led him to the purser's office. Closing the door quietly +behind him, he said: + +"I would like to borrow your pass-key a moment." + +"Sorry, sir," came the polite reply, "but it's against orders. I can +unlock your door--if you've lost the key--but--" + +"Suppose you call the captain," Trent suggested. + +"Tell him Mr. Tavernake wants to borrow the key. I'll be responsible for +it." + +While the purser was telephoning, Trent scanned the register. "Hsien +Sgam--No. 227," he read. + +"It's all right, sir," reported the purser, hanging up the receiver, a +new note of respect in his voice. + +Trent circled the deck, assured himself that Hsien Sgam was in the +smoking-room, then went aft to cabin No. 227. A turn of the key, a +glance behind into the vestibule-way, and he was inside. He locked the +door; drew the curtain across the window. + +A thorough search gained him little knowledge. Only clothing and a +hand-grip containing perfunctory toilet articles; there were no letters, +not even a passport. Evidently the Mongol carried all papers of +importance upon his person. + +Hardly assured, yet satisfied to a degree, Trent returned the key to the +purser and made his way toward his cabin--and as he rounded a corner of +the deckhouse he almost collided with Dana Charteris. She backed, half +in surprise, half in fright, to the rail, and gripped the white enameled +iron. + +"Oh!" she flared. "You _do_ appear at the most inopportune times!" + +And she stalked past him, entering the cabin before he could recover +himself enough to speak. + +Perplexed, he continued to his state-room. "Inopportune, indeed," he +muttered as he closed the door--for as she darted to the rail he saw her +fling something overboard, an object that flashed white as it shot past +the scuppers. + +He sat down on the edge of the berth; filled his pipe. + +What was she carrying that she did not want him to see? It could not +have been of value or she would not have disposed of it in that manner. +But.... + +He ran his fingers through his hair; puffed on his pipe. + +Was it possible--? No, the very suspicion was preposterous; he was +surprised that it should even occur to him. Yet, he acknowledged, a +certain king of Ithaca believed in the beauty of Calypso. Forcing +himself to face the situation, he reviewed his short acquaintance with +Dana Charteris in a cold, scrutinizing light. The result was not +altogether pleasing. Their midnight encounter on the portico at Benares +was hardly reassuring, now that he looked at it through a different +lens, nor was the meeting in the Chinese quarter, in Calcutta.... +_Intermezzo!_ Would it end in discord? He smiled grimly, confessing to +himself that grave doubts (and, deeper than doubts, an ache that was not +physical) had arisen from this new development. Had he been a fool? + +He fortified his mind against such thoughts. What substantial reason had +he to suspect that her interest in him was other than personal? +(Personal! That word was fine ego.) The incident on deck--Well, he +evaded, it might have been anything that she threw overboard, a +handkerchief ... or.... At least, he would not be so unjust as to +suspicion her--or anyone, he enlarged--upon such meager suppositions. + +Only partially satisfied, he retired. He did not go to sleep for some +time--and when he awakened in the morning, with the sun raining bronze +needles at the blue sea, his first recollection was of the incident on +the previous night. Considered in daylight, it lost its dark +significance, but, nevertheless, made him vaguely uneasy. + +This brooding discontent grew with the day. Dana Charteris was not in +the dining-salon at breakfast, nor did she come on deck during the +morning. He sat near her chair, waiting, his mind barred against either +condemnation or justification. He would reserve his decision until he +heard what she had to say. When she appeared (and it seemed that she +never would) she could probably clear the incident with a few words, an +explanation that would no doubt shed a light of absurdity upon his +apprehensions. + +But she did not appear, not even at tiffin, and he passed a restless +afternoon. He walked the vessel from bow to stern, from bridge to the +torrid depths where beings heaved fuel into her hungry stomach, +impatient with the unseen forces that controlled his affairs. + +He saw Hsien Sgam several times, but avoided him, for his mood was not a +friendly one. A short interview with Guru Singh--who clung to the +integrity of his honor--only served to irritate him, and a few minutes +later when he came upon Tambusami, in the steerage, confabbing with the +snake-charmer (he of the scar and the drooping eyelid) he snapped him +up in his laconic way for having removed the dressing from his cut. + +(And it would not have improved his mental estate had he seen the manner +in which the snake-charmer's afflicted eye watched him leave the +steerage.) + +The sun sank. Its sullen crimson bled upon cirrus clouds; faded with +dusk; was absorbed as night bound the sky with gauzy blue and stars came +forth to cool the fevered pulse of day. + +Trent had just taken his seat in the dining-salon when Dana Charteris +entered. White shoulders rose above the silver-cloth and flame-blue +tulle of an evening frock. The startling shade of blue challenged out +the deeper tints of her eyes; her pallor was made more lustrous by red +lips and russet-gold hair. At sight of her he felt the blood throb in +his throat. + +"I hope you haven't been ill," he said as he placed her chair. + +She smiled in a rather strained manner, he thought. + +"I've been a poor sailor to-day." + +A pause; then he plunged. "I should like to have a word with +you--alone." + +She met his gaze unsmilingly. For a moment he thought she would refuse. + +"There's to be a dance to-night--you knew it?" He shook his head. +"Suppose I give you--the third?" + +"I'd prefer not to dance," he returned solemnly. + +"Then we'll go on deck." + + +8 + +The night was blue and moonless; no ordinary blue, but the clear, rich +shade found in the depths of a sapphire, and it poured out as from an +invisible fountain, blending the sky and sea; it caught a thousand stars +in its flood and they, like diamonds cast into an unstirred pool, pulsed +with lazy insolence above the oily swells. + +Trent, leaning on the port rail, pipe between his teeth, heard the +throbbing violins cease. He straightened up sharply. There was a patter +of applause from the main salon; an encore. He knocked the dottle from +his pipe and sauntered nearer the doorway; there he waited impatiently +for the encore to end. + +Once more the violins ceased; a ripple of applause. But the music did +not resume. Several couples emerged from the salon. Dana Charteris +appeared as Trent was within several paces of the door; paused a moment +in the frame, her hair glimmering in the brazen light. Then she saw him; +joined him. + +"Shall we walk?" she asked. He thought there was a tremor in her voice. + +"Yes." + +Their mutual inclination led them toward the fore-deck. In the bow, +beyond a monster coil of rope, they halted as with one accord. He stood +looking out over the blue-black sea; she backward, across decks, at the +huge funnels where smoke piled upward into darkness. + +"Miss Charteris," he began, quite calmly, "I daresay you know why I +asked for a word with you." + +She was still watching the smoke. "I daresay I do," she replied, not so +calmly. + +He went on. + +"I'm going to be frank--even abrupt. Will you tell me what you threw +overboard last night?" + +Silence followed. The big ship throbbed, but it seemed far away, part of +another world; in his sphere there was but the girl, himself and the +stars. He thought he saw her shiver--although it was not chilly. + +Finally she spoke. + +"Before I answer, there's something I must say. You are frank; I, too, +will be frank." Her eyes shifted to his face. "I feel sure you're aware +that I am not so stupid as to believe your name is Tavernake--or that +you are a--a jeweller. Furthermore, you know I saw you in uniform in +Benares. Your story about the brother was--rather flat." She smiled +faintly. "I'm no child, Mr.--yes, I'll continue to call you Tavernake. I +have imagination; I have guessed you are engaged in some sort of +important work--work that you must not be distracted from. At first, I +didn't care--particularly--or perhaps I was weak. So I let myself drift +along. It's so easy to drift, isn't it?" + +A new tone had come into her voice; a softer, more poignant quality. It +carried to him a lofty exhilaration. He knew it was dangerous, yet, for +the while, it thrilled him. The looming masts beyond the coil of rope +were transformed, in his eyes, into the enchanted rigging of a dream +ship. + +"... So I took the easiest course--because I found you interesting. Then +it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I was interfering with your +duty. I knew I must stop. I resolved to--to end our friendship as easily +as possible, without hurting you--or me. I hoped, after my outburst last +night, you wouldn't try to see me again; that you'd be angry." + +She smiled; let her hand rest lightly, he knew unconsciously, upon his +arm. + +"You understand? To-day I was--well, afraid of you and of myself. I had +my meals served in my state-room. But I realized I had acted in a way +that would seem strange to you; so I came out to-night to explain. If I +give you my word that what I did last night is of no consequence to you, +will you spare me the embarrassment of explaining? It _will_ be +embarrassing, Mr. Tavernake, very. Yet it was such a small incident!" + +Her hand slipped from his arm; she lowered her eyes. Trent, watching +her, felt that at last he had explored to the inner shrine of that +arcanum in her eyes. He saw altar-flames there. + +"Don't you think it wise," she resumed, looking up, "that we discontinue +our association--not our friendship--now, to-night? To-morrow, in +Rangoon...." + +Her voice died out in silence. They were quite alone, there in the bow, +lifted, so it seemed, into a realm of blue starlight. Her face swam in +the shadow, very close to his own. He obeyed an impulse. He took her in +his arms; kissed her. Her eyes were closed, but an instant later the +lids lifted. What he saw was not rebuke, but surprise, astonishment. +Vaguely, from that other world, came the strains of music. It seemed an +endless period before she spoke. + +"I--I have this dance...." + +She turned; paused, as if to speak; disappeared behind the coil of rope. + +Trent did not stir for some time. Then it was to draw out his pipe. He +lighted it calmly; inhaled the smoke. For at least a half hour he stood +there, the wind in his face, smoking steadily. When he left the bow and +moved aft to walk, to accelerate his brain, a figure emerged from the +door of the smoking-room and joined him. A figure that limped, that fell +in with Trent. + +"I have been looking for you," the Mongol announced. + +Trent smiled an amiable contradiction of his real feelings. + +"Shall we sit down?" He halted. + +"No. I merely wish a moment of your time to explain my actions of last +night, and to ask a question." + +The orchestra was playing, and the music came as a bitter-sweet reminder +to Trent. + +"Well?" and the word was almost abrupt. + +"I presume you think me very inquisitive"--Hsien Sgam's eyes were upon +him, watching him closely--"and I have been. But I had a purpose. I +wished to sound you, as they say in America; to find out if your +business connections were permanent, and--well, other things, too." + +Silence followed. + +"Suppose," the Mongol resumed, "I were to say that plans for such +a--you recall what we discussed the other evening? Well, suppose I were +to say I spoke the truth: that there is a possibility of my dream +crystallizing into reality; also that we need men who have had military +experience, who can command. Soldiers of fortune, as it were, to cast +their lots with a worthy cause...." + +Trent's eyes evenly met his. He smiled, very slightly. + +"Are you--making an offer?" he asked quietly. + +Another silence. Then Hsien Sgam laughed. + +"Perhaps I am; perhaps I am not. But if you are interested, go to the +House of the Golden Joss, in Rangoon, to-morrow night. I will be there." + +And with that he limped off and vanished in the door of the +smoking-room. + +Trent stared after him. Presently he laughed, without humor. + +Of a certainty, he told himself, there was madness in the night. + + +9 + +The _Manchester_ swung into the Rangoon River some twenty hours late. +Trent, who had risen early, saw the dome of the Shwe Dagon in the dawn, +like a rippling flame against the purple haze. Before the ship dropped +anchor, he sought the captain. + +"I've decided not to press charges against the fellow confined below," +he announced. "Let him go--but not until a half hour after we come to +anchor." + +The captain, his eyes following Trent's receding shoulders, reflected +that he'd see the blighter in blazing hades before he'd let him off so +easily. But, not being clairvoyant, he could not know that Trent had a +few minutes before issued certain specific instructions to Tambusami. + +Later, after Trent had concluded with the tiresome customs details, he +saw Dana Charteris. She was preparing to go ashore. She wore the black +hat with the sheaf of cornflowers and wheat about the crown, and her +face, shadowed by the wide brim, had the pallor of ivory. + +"I suppose I ought to say something," he began, halting in front of her, +"but I don't know whether I want to ask your forgiveness for what +occurred last night." + +It was a strained moment, for both were painfully conscious. She averted +her face. + +"Perhaps," she suggested, "it would be better to say--nothing." + +Then she looked at him; smiled; extended her hand. + +Not until she was gone, a creature of white and russet-gold in the +sunshine, did he remember that he did not know her address. This +realization brought a new and enveloping sense of isolation.... +Interlude! And this was the end--_andante dolento_! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VERMILION ROOM + + +Sunset, like the wings of a giant golden moth, quivered in the sky and +beat gently against the city, stirring from the earth a film of dust +that, illuminated by the lingering glow, hung in the air like yellow +pollen. Gold was the sovereign tone of every quarter. In the Shwe Dagon +numerous Buddhas smiled at the vain splendor of goldleaf and +gold-fretted spires; Victoria Lake, on whose banks social Rangoon had +gathered to cool after a stifling day, lay like a gold-chased platter; +along the riverfront, dull brown water, shot with glinting ripples, +swirled and eddied beneath quayside godowns, and in the adjacent bazaars +a concourse of native life moved against a background of gold-lettered +signs and gilt-painted shops. + +This golden dust-haze enveloped the bungalow in Prome Road where Dana +Charteris was packing a suitcase; floated through the window of a house +near the waterfront where Hsien Sgam sat talking to another Oriental; +irradiated the interior of the tramcar that carried Tambusami toward the +commercial town; and glowed in a luminous cloud about a veranda of the +Strand Hotel where Trent, lounging in a wicker chair, engaged in an +occupation that might have cast some slight reflection upon the morale +of the British Army. + +Immediately after reaching the hotel from the steamer he had inquired +about the train schedule, and was informed that to make the best +connection at Mandalay for Myitkyina he should leave Rangoon on the noon +train, reaching Mandalay at nightfall. From there, he was told, +Myitkyina was a matter of twenty-four hours. Trent decided to remain in +Rangoon until the next day; for he intended to explore the mysteries of +the House of the Golden Joss. Having settled the time for his departure, +he gave himself over to an inspection of the city. After tiffin he +visited the bazaars, purchased a small leather-bound volume by Shway Yoë +at a shop in Merchant Street, and now sat on the veranda of the Strand, +waiting for Tambusami, whom he had not seen since he came ashore. + +It was growing too dark to read, and he slipped the book into a pocket +of his silk suit, transferring his attention to the variety of +head-dresses that passed in the roadway. Pith helmets, felt Bangkok +hats, Chinese skull-caps, loosely-knotted Burmese scarfs, and turbans of +all sizes.... Darkness fell and street-lamps glowed into being before he +abandoned his watch and went to dinner. + +After the meal he returned to the veranda--and met a smiling, +bespectacled Tambusami in the doorway. + +"_Burra salaam_, O Presence!" was the native's greeting. "Was the +Presence beginning to believe I had been swallowed up by this strange +city?" + +Trent drew him into one corner and sat down. + +"Well?"--as he lighted his pipe. + +Tambusami, after a wary look about him, made a gesture. + +"I did as you directed, Presence," he began. "I waited until that filthy +Mohammedan louse left the ship, and followed. Louse indeed, for he went +to a place of stinks that would poison other than vermin! Fish and +onions, Presence! He put such corruption into his belly! From there he +walked about several streets that are as filthy as that stink-hole of a +restaurant, then took a tramcar. He sat in front, I in the rear. + +"At the pagoda, the great pagoda"--meaning, Trent knew, the Shwe +Dagon--"he got off and defiled it with his presence. He went up to the +top, where there is a great bell, Presence, and many images of the Lord +Gaudama. Even the dogs in the stalls snarled at him! After he had +tainted the upper platform with his presence, he returned to the bazaars +below. There at the foot of the steps he waited, while I hid in the +shadows above. Finally the one for whom he waited came--a Memsahib." + +Trent's lips pressed into a thin line. + +"A Memsahib," Tambusami went on. "She wore a veil and I could not see +her face. She was dressed in white." + +"Did you notice the color of her hair?" Trent cut in. + +"No, Presence; the veil was heavy. But I saw a bracelet--oh, a very +beautiful bracelet! It was gold and had a cobra upon it--a king-cobra, +with hood lifted!" + +If this announcement was startling to Trent, he succeeded quite well in +hiding it. He smoked on in silence. + +"I could not hear what they said," continued the native. "They left +almost immediately. She had a gharry waiting in the road. I did not +follow long. Am I a dog that I should run behind until my tongue drips +and I drop dead of heat? When they disappeared, I got on a tramcar. Now +I am here!" + +Trent looked at him closely. "You heard the Memsahib's voice?" + +"Yes, Presence, but not--" + +"It wasn't familiar?" + +"Nay!" + +Trent's fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. + +"You should have followed," was his comment, after a moment. "Since you +didn't, the only thing for you to do is to return to the restaurant. He +may go back to-night." + +Tambusami ceased smiling. "That stink-hole of fish and onions!" he +exclaimed indignantly; then: "Very well--I am a faithful servant of the +Presence!" + +Whereupon he salaamed and departed, quickly losing himself among the +many turbans in the street. + +Trent continued to drum on the arm of his chair. The woman of the +cobra-bracelet! And in Rangoon! That meant she was a passenger on the +_Manchester_. But no, not necessarily. Damn the illusiveness of her! Who +was she, anyway? Sarojini Nanjee? In that event it was likely Tambusami +would have recognized her. Perhaps he did, was his next and +disconcerting thought; perhaps the affair on shipboard was a hoax, a +foil for something deeper; perhaps Tambusami knew this and his story of +the meeting at the pagoda was false. It was queer, he admitted, that +Tambusami didn't hear anything that passed between the two.... But at +least, he told himself, he was free of his perpetual shadow for several +hours; he had not despatched Tambusami to the restaurant because he +believed Guru Singh would return (if he had ever been there), but +because he did not wish his own actions under surveillance that evening. + +Still puzzling over Tambusami's report, he left the hotel. An +involuntary glance behind showed him no familiar face, and he hailed a +cab. (When the temperature is at ninety degrees one does not walk for +pleasure.) The _gharry-wallah_ knew no English--which was not +unusual--and to make himself understood Trent had to solicit the aid of +a Sikh policeman. + +Hsien Sgam was the pivot of his thoughts as he rolled northward along +Strand Road. His interest in the invited interview was almost wholly +personal, for he felt that the Mongol's "revolution" was more a matter +of vain dreaming than reality. Such a movement, unless backed by some +power, could hardly be regarded as formidable. Yet the rebellion in +South China in nineteen-eleven, which brought about the presidency of +Yuan Shih-Kai, must have seemed puny in its first stages. Although +insurrection in Mongolia against China would scarcely affect the +interests of his Government, it was at least worthy of investigation. +There was, as always, the possibility of infection--for the smell of +powder, especially in Eastern lands, is dangerous. It might spread into +Szechuan and Yunnan (there were already ugly symptoms along the banks of +Mother Yangtze) or into Tibet, thus bringing it to the back door of +Burma. And that "back door," he knew, was no small consideration. Since +the occupation of Hkamti Long, the Kachin tribes of the Burmese +hinterland needed but slight pretext to inaugurate trouble. True, they +could be easily put down--"easily," he reflected grimly, meaning troops; +death for hundreds in fever-haunted swamps and in jungles where lurked +innumerable dangers. That was "black" country, up there between India, +Tibet and China; wild people in a wild setting--dwarf Nungs, Black Marus +and Lisus. Yes, they could be quelled, these primitive people, for a +price. All of which, he concluded, was pure romancing. + +He was in a street that ran parallel with the river, a highway where +Burmans, Chinese, Hindus, Madrasees, Tamils, Cingaleese and +Chittagonians mingled in a colorful, reeking democracy unknown to +caste-bound Indian cities. On one side, beyond quays and warehouses, was +the river, its dim expanse flecked with lamps on sampans, junks and +lighters, here and there the white silhouette of an ocean-going vessel +blotting the gloom; on the other, groups of colors that, like parrots, +would seem gaudy and flamboyant in other than their natural setting +shifted upon a background of low, swarth buildings and shops decorated +with imitation lacquer and goldleaf. + +Here was Burma, sleepy gilded Burma, with its quaint kyoungs and +pagodas, its air of vain decay. A siren of the East whose charms are +fast being supplanted by the craft of her less attractive, but more +industrious, sisters. They laughed and smoked, these light-hearted +Burmans, while Chinos and Hindus moved with stealthy intent among +them--grim, silent fellows, as quick in commerce as the Burmans are lazy +and indolent. This was not the quiet of India or China, a boding hush, +but an atmosphere of somnolence and perfect content. + +Thus Trent was musing when he came at length to the House of the Golden +Joss. It was a yellow brick building in a flagged enclosure, its +upcurling eaves and series of roofs, to Trent, strikingly like the +fantastic headgear of a lemon-faced mandarin who looked out with +satisfaction upon the marine highway by which the merchandise of his +sons floated into port. Curious eyes followed the Englishman as he paid +the _gharry-wallah_ and moved up the low stair to the entrance. There, +after a pause, he passed between twin stone dragons; passed from the +twentieth century, so it seemed, into a perished dynasty. + +He found himself in a vast court where the smoke from joss-sticks hung +in clearly defined layers upon the atmosphere. The walls were lacquered +with red and gold; and black-enameled pillars, inscribed with +ideographs, were joined to the beams by filagree dragons. Orange-colored +scrolls, red and gold paper-prayers and blue pottery reflected bizarre +splashes upon glazed floors. The draperies were crimson; great red +lanterns, hanging from the ceiling like captive moons, added to the +scarlet effect. Worshippers of all races and colors knelt before the +altar and numerous small shrines, and the murmur of many voices in twice +as many tongues hummed in the great red temple. + +Trent's interest was instantly claimed by the blue pottery--tall vases, +thin of neck and bellying out as they curved toward rounded bases and +black pedestals. Red walls reflected upon their shiny surfaces. These +vases were relics of China's Imperialists, Trent knew, brought from +Honan or Chili--and his collector's soul flamed. Nor did he fail to +observe the porcelain dragons or the intricate filigree work that +adorned the beams. From these treasures he tore himself and gave his +attention to the people. Mongoloid features, Aryan and Malay. No +familiar face among them. + +He pursued a corridor that led from the main court and completely +circled the building--a dim passageway with many curtained recesses off +from it. At one corner was a restaurant. He could imagine from the +smells the sort of food served within, and he hurried on, returning to +the temple where incense banished the less enticing odors. + +At a light touch on his arm he turned. A gray-clad priest stood at his +side--an emaciated Buddhist. + +"Your name is Tavernake, _thakin_?" he asked in English; then, as Trent +nodded, added: "Come with me." + +Trent was led back along the dim corridor, past the restaurant with its +pungent smells, to a curtained room in the rear. It was evidently a +bedroom, for there was the customary _charpoy_, or bed. Its walls were +vermilion; vermilion portières hung in the doorway, and a heavy +vermilion curtain defied any air to enter through the one window. It was +close, stifling. The lantern swinging from the ceiling seemed a fiery +ball that radiated heat. + +"His Excellency Hsien Sgam will be here presently," announced the monk; +and Trent did not fail to notice the title. "He begs you to accept the +humble comforts of our hospitality until he arrives." + +Trent's eyes followed the priest. As the vermilion portières fell +together behind him, rippling gently, like red heat-waves, the last +draught of air seemed banished; the room became oppressive, as though +the lid of hades had been shut, and the odors from the nearby restaurant +did not improve the atmosphere. + +Trent dropped on the edge of the _charpoy_, fanning himself with his hat +and inspecting the room with mild curiosity. He leaned over and drew +aside the window-curtain. A warm current of air breathed upon his face. +Beyond the rectangle was darkness--the back of the flagged enclosure, he +surmised. A faint drone of voices was borne through the +quiet--worshippers in the temple-court. Footsteps padded softly in the +corridor; drew nearer; passed.... Five minutes.... + +Why the devil was Hsien Sgam keeping him waiting, and in this infernally +hot room, he wondered? + +Growing impatient, he rose and paced the floor, not ceasing to fan +himself. Sweat streamed into his eyes, rolled down his body and +moistened his undergarments. His scalp burned and needled with heat. +After a moment he resumed his seat, staring at the motionless vermilion +portières. Still the hum of voices from the temple; it went on with +maddening persistence. + +"Good God!" he thought, as he mopped his face. "Such heat!" + +He glanced at his wrist-watch. He had been waiting ten minutes. Confound +Hsien Sgam and his revolution! + +Suddenly his eyes were invaded by an alert gleam. That was the only +change in his expression. He let his gaze rove about the room and +continued the restless fanning. But there was something in his attitude, +in the poise of his head, that likened him to a stag suddenly aware of +an alien presence. + +He had seen the vermilion portières move--very slightly. + +Casually, he lowered his eyes to the bottom of the curtain. Two inches +of gloom separated the hem from the floor, but that was sufficient to +show him the toes of a pair of shoes. As he looked, they drew back--but +not too far for him to still see them. + +He continued to fan himself. Perspiration ran into his eyes and stung +them, and he wiped away the moisture with a damp handkerchief. The heat +seemed to press down, like a burning cushion, and quench his breath. + +The pair of shoes moved closer. Another ripple of the curtains. Then, +above the murmur from the temple, he heard a sound in the corridor--a +_thwack_. Came a quick gasp, a low, sobbing intake of breath. + +Trent got to his feet, swiftly. As he stood erect, the portières parted +suddenly and a body slued into the room. It swung about drunkenly; went +to its knees; stretched upon the floor. A revolver clattered beside it. +Trent barely had time to see that the body was that of a gray-robed +man--a priest, who had fallen face downward and lay still, with an ugly +blotch between his shoulders--before another figure slipped through the +division of the curtains and thrust forward the muzzle of a revolver. + +Trent halted. A flicker of recollection crossed his brain. The man who +stood outlined against the vermilion hangings was a native clad in dirty +garments; his turban was soiled, his feet bare. As Trent saw the scar +running across one cheek and the drooping eyelid, he recognized the +snake-charmer who crossed the Bay in the steerage of the _Manchester_. + +The fellow grinned impudently, and the expression was reminiscent of +another smile. + +"Turn about!" he ordered softly, in English--excellent English for a +street juggler, as Trent did not fail to notice. "Don't say a word; +don't make a sound!" + +Trent's eyes dropped to the body; lifted questioningly. + +Again the snake-charmer grinned--that impudent, strangely reminiscent +expression. + +"Never mind that now!" he said, and his voice, too, slow and quiet, +seemed vaguely familiar. "If you want to get out of this place whole, do +as I say!" + +Trent turned, facing the window. (And the native did not see the smile +that traced itself upon his face.) Instantly the Englishman felt a +pressure between his shoulders. + +"Now, drop out of the window!" came the whispered command from behind. + +Trent moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside. As he swung over +the sill he caught a glimpse of the juggler's grinning face. The sash +was not more than four feet from the ground, and he discovered that he +was behind the joss-house, in the shadow of a lofty wall. Above were +stars; at one side, further along the wall, a gateway where the glow +from a lighted street fell within. + +"Walk to the gate," was the native's quiet order, as he lowered himself +from the window. "Hail a carriage and get in. I'll be directly behind +you. Don't look around or say a word; if you do...." + +Trent obeyed. He moved slowly, almost carelessly, through the gate and +into the street, where a thin stream of Burmans and Chinese flowed +toward the joss-house. + +It was half a square before he saw a cab; then, in a matter-of-fact way, +he motioned to the _wallah_. As the gharry drew up, the slow, familiar +voice at his side spoke to the driver--in Burmese, Trent imagined. + +The Englishman stepped into the conveyance, showing no surprise when the +juggler got in and sank upon the seat beside him. Nor did he look in the +least amazed, as he should have done, when the native's drooping eyelid +lifted and winked at him in an outrageously familiar manner. He only +smiled--a smile that grew as he commented: + +"You're a downy bird, Kerth." + +Which was not indiscreet, for one may safely assume, in Rangoon, that +his _gharry-wallah_ cannot understand him when he speaks English. + + +2 + +"I've instructed the _wallah_ to drive to your hotel by a longer route," +Euan Kerth drawled, and Trent wondered how he was ever baffled by such a +simple make-up; it was the drooping eyelid, he decided, and the absence +of the waxed mustache. + +"I want time to talk," Kerth explained. "Also, I'll take this +opportunity to return a piece of your property." + +One slender hand emerged from under his clothing and extended an object +that gleamed softly in the semi-dark, an object that caused the blood to +leap into Trent's temples and throb there for a moment of sheer +excitement. + +For it was the silver-chased piece of coral that had twice been stolen +from him. + +"Too, I want to tell you," Kerth went on, "that your pretty cobra friend +lied to you." + +"Sarojini?" + +Kerth nodded. "Most gloriously," he emphasized. "Look inside the +locket--or whatever it is--and you'll see." + +Again Trent felt the blood in his temples. But his hand was calm as he +pressed a fingernail under the rim and opened the pendant. He bent low; +peered intently. He made no exclamation as he saw the name that was +engraved within--but his breathing quickened. He snapped the oval shut +and sat with it gripped in his hand. The blood was still beating in his +temples. + +"As I told you," resumed Kerth, "_Gilbert Leroux_, the name that's +written there, was Chavigny's last alias. Therefore, when Sarojini said +he had nothing to do with the Order, she lied. And if she lied once, +she's likely to do it again. Fact is, I don't trust her. I have a reason +to believe she isn't playing the game just right." + +"Yes?" Trent encouraged, while the name in the pendant sang itself in +his ears with the roll of the carriage wheels. + +"I'll have to be rather personal," was the slow statement; +"embarrassingly so, I fear. Nevertheless, it's better that you know I +know. Before I left Benares I sent a telegram to a friend, the +Commissioner at Jehelumpore--you see, I knew you were stationed there at +one time--asking if he knew whether--whether you and Sarojini +Nanjee--well--" + +He paused. Trent, smiling to himself, said: "Go on." + +"When I reached Calcutta I received a letter from him by special post," +Kerth continued. "He told me the whole story.... That's all. And for +that reason--and because she lied about Chavigny--I believe you should +be wary of her. Balked affection is an unruly mount to straddle, and +when a woman plans to make a fool of a man because he doesn't pay her +any attention, and the man by his wits turns the affair so that _she_ is +the fool--well, I'll say only that she's likely to cause trouble, +especially if she has a Rajput strain in her blood." + +Quiet followed. They rolled on toward the hotel. Trent was the first to +speak. + +"Just how did you do this?"--with a gesture that conveyed more than the +speech. + +In the semi-dark, unobserved, Kerth smiled. + +"Oh, it was easy enough," he drawled. "I determined to have a look at +the instructions you received at Sarojini Nanjee's house, there in +Benares. I didn't quite fancy the way she gave in to your request to +take me along. When we returned to the hotel, I left you for a few +minutes, if you recall. During that time I filled an envelope with blank +paper, then went to your room and while we were talking, under the +pretense of getting a match from your tunic, I exchanged envelopes." + +"And you returned it that night?" Trent put in, with a smile. + +"Yes, I was your nocturnal visitor. I left on an express for Calcutta +that night. When I got there I haunted the environs of the old +mandarin's establishment. The night you called I hid in the court--back +of the house and just behind the room where you two were talking.... Oh, +it was easy enough," he repeated. + +"What about this?" Trent inquired, indicating the pendant. + +"I intended to take a look through your cabin, on general principles, +the first night out--and I happened along just as your servant and that +other fellow staged their shindy outside your state-room. When you went +on deck, I seized the opportunity. I found the pendant under the pillow +and took it because I wanted to study the design--and--well, for other +reasons, too. I didn't discover the Chavigny alias until later." + +"I had the captain search the steerage passengers for it," Trent said. + +Kerth laughed. "I know you did--and I caused an inoffensive, fangless +cobra to go to his Nirvana by hiding the thing in his gullet. I would +have spoken to you on shipboard, but I was afraid of hidden eyes." + +That explained the theft of the pendant on the _Manchester_ (thus Trent +to himself), but who took it the first time, in Benares? Kerth was +evidently ignorant of that. Guru Singh was the key to the riddle, and he +silently cursed himself for having released him. + +"What did you learn about the design?" he pressed on. + +"A little," Kerth returned carelessly. "I spent this afternoon at the +Bernard Library looking up all sorts of deities. The one on the piece of +coral is Janesseron, the Three-eyed God of Thunder--a _Tibetan_ god." +Then, after a pause: "There may be some significance in the fact that +the symbol of the Order is a Tibetan deity, and then, there may not. +I've formed a theory, and unless I'm greatly mistaken, you and I have a +neat little sprint before we reach the so-called City of the Falcon. And +if this city is where I believe it is, why, we.... But I'm anticipating. +Anyway, I haven't the time to pawn off my theories upon you. I simply +wished to let you know I wasn't in Bombay, and to return the piece of +coral." + +Another pause before he ventured: + +"I suppose you're not at liberty to tell me how you came into possession +of that?"--with a motion of his slim hand toward the pendant. + +Trent considered, then replied, "Why, yes." And he told of finding +Manlove in the ruined temple at Gaya. When he had finished, Kerth +whistled softly. + +"So!" he commented. "Chavigny at Gaya--but wait! When did I track him to +the native _serai_ in Delhi?" He was silent for a moment. "It was +Friday," he resumed, "no, Saturday--I remember now. And what day was +Captain Manlove murdered?... Monday--the twentieth? You see, then, that +Chavigny would have had time to reach Gaya; but how in flaming Tophet +did he get out of Delhi? You remember I told you I found blood-stains in +his room at the _serai_.... Hmm. This is a complication. D'ye suppose +Chavigny made a mistake--thought Manlove you? Yet why the deuce should +he want to put you out of the way?" + +A lengthy space of silence followed. Kerth took up the conversation. + +"I haven't the slightest idea why you went to that joss-house to-night; +however, I'm glad I followed and"--he smiled--"saved one of the eyes of +the empire." + +"And I'm rather glad you followed, too"--this from Trent drily. "I +sha'n't forget. I went there to meet a...." Followed a short description +of Hsien Sgam, the Mongol, and an explanation of Trent's purpose at the +House of the Golden Joss. Again, as he finished, Kerth whistled. + +"Complication upon complication! D 'ye suppose he's one of the Order? I +remember seeing him on the boat. What's his object in attempting to +murder you? It's obvious that that was his purpose." + +"I can't somehow adjust him with the Order," returned Trent. "He seems +above that. He's capable of villainy all right--rather exquisite +villainy, I imagine--but I can't associate him with thievery and stolen +jewels.... Did you see the face of the fellow who tried to kill me?" + +Kerth nodded. "It was the priest who took you to that room. Oh, he was +shrewd--or rather, the one who directed him! He had a maxim silencer on +the revolver; and if I had been two seconds later, you would have had a +steel morsel lodged somewhere between your chest and stomach. I didn't +dare waste time to explain there; I was afraid there might be others, +and two white men in a heathen prayer-house would have as much chance as +a pair of bats in hades!" Kerth glanced ahead. "We'll be at your hotel +in a few minutes," he announced, "and your shadow might be there, so I +think I'll make my exit now. I'm leaving Rangoon to-morrow noon, as I +daresay you are, too. I'll manage somehow to see you at Myitkyina." + +He thrust one foot out of the gharry, upon the step, and stood there a +moment, the reflection from passing lamps upon his stained features. He +was smiling his satanic smile--a rather impudent, careless expression. + +"I think I shall pay another visit to the House of the Golden Joss," he +said. "What you have told me of this Hsien Sgam interests me in him. +Good luck, major!" + +With a wave of his hand he swung down and disappeared in the street. + + +3 + +When Trent reached the hotel he found Tambusami waiting, with no news of +Guru Singh, and the Englishman dismissed the native and went to his +room. + +As he undressed, the coral pendant lay upon the table before his eyes +and he stared at it fascinatedly--stared until the coral blended in with +the silver and met his gaze like a monstrous blood-shot orb.... It was +hard to believe that Chavigny was at Gaya, that it was the Frenchman who +murdered Manlove. Chavigny--Gilbert Leroux. What reason had he to kill +Manlove, unless, as he theorized before, the guilty one had been +discovered at the bungalow by his victim and in the ensuing struggle the +latter was stabbed? Or, as Kerth suggested, he might have mistaken +Manlove for Trent, although he could think of no reason why Chavigny +should desire his death. And there was Chatterjee--Chatterjee, who died +with his secrets.... Chavigny at Gaya! It was incredible. Of course the +piece of coral might have been left as false evidence, a blind. But who, +other than a member of the Order of the Falcon, would possess the +ornament, and would a member of that mysterious band have left the +symbol to be found by the police? + +Provided Chavigny was the murderer, would it not be natural for him to +take steps to recover the pendant, once he discovered its loss? Perhaps +it was he who stole it in Benares. But that did not seem likely, in the +light of Guru Singh's actions. For why should Chavigny wish to return +the oval to him? If.... + +Then Trent had an inspiration. Was the attempt to kill him at the House +of the Golden Joss the work of Chavigny? But what of the Buddhist +priest? Chavigny might have bought him; paid him to kill Trent. To go +further, it was possible that Chavigny was on the _Manchester_. +Chavigny, an illusive personality, ever at his heels, like his own +shadow! There was something intriguing in the thought. And it was +plausible--plausible, too, that Chavigny, the notorious Chavigny, was +the Falcon, the head of that nebulous order. + +Theories, Trent concluded--only theories. He locked the pendant in his +trunk and switched off the light. + +As he lay in darkness, while lizards chirruped on the floor and the +ceiling, a sense of cavernous aloneness enveloped him. It thronged with +poignant thoughts. Manlove.... It seemed an age since he stood in the +bungalow at Gaya that last morning. So much had happened since +then--much to distract. Yet always, niched away in the subconscious, was +the hurt, wearing deeper with a bruising force. Trent's nature was +sterile for the average seeds of intimate kinships, but now and +then--not more than half a dozen times in his life--one fell upon +fertile soil. There was something fresh and strong in his association +with Manlove. (An essence thrice sweet in the memory.) Their +personalities seemed to have entered into a mystic communion of +comradeship--a bond not of words nor demonstrations, but feeling. That +was why he felt so keenly the bruise of it. + +Gone, too, was the woman who had materialized from his world-scroll into +intimate palpability, bringing the rich gift of her presence--and +leaving the bitter-sweet pangs of her departure. He would find her +again, for she had fixed herself in the inner-penetralia of his being. +But the period of waiting!... Waiting--love's Gethsemane since the first +simian creatures battled in the wildernesses of a still-hot planet. + +As he lay there, reflecting upon these things, he experienced an ache, a +sensation of isolation, that was reminiscent of his boyhood--of a night +when a shadowy being of antiseptics and sick-room odors roused him from +sleep with the announcement that the man who had fathered him into +existence was no longer in the house. + +It dulled only when a sleepy intoxication came over him, and as he +surrendered to it he visualized, in a dim, hazy way, a falcon, and it +lay in a welter of blood. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"BEYOND THE MOON" + + +At noon the next day Trent drove to the station where Tambusami, having +attended to his luggage, was waiting. The Englishman looked for Kerth +among the travelers on the platform, but saw no one who even resembled +him. However, he reflected as the train pulled out, Kerth might have +changed his identity and passed within a foot of him without his +knowledge! + +When Pegu lay behind, he shifted his attention from the "Rangoon +Gazette" to the endless panorama of paddy fields and scrub jungle. Yet +he could not altogether divert himself. Invariably the landscape faded, +to be replaced by the recollection of some recent scene: the court of +the joss-house; the ride along Strand Road with Euan Kerth. But more +frequently his mind was possessed with an image of starry luster and +russet hair. The memory of Dana Charteris occurred suddenly, +unexpectedly, in the very midst of other thoughts. She seemed a central +force about which musings, retrospections and quandaries revolved. He +found himself separating from their short association certain incidents +and looking back upon them as through stained glass. He pictured her +under the black and gilt scroll in the Chinese quarter; in the dusk of +the Bengali theater; in the bow of the _Manchester_, beneath the +sprinkled flame of tropic stars. These portraits arranged themselves in +a mosaic--an exquisite inlay of romance. Romance. He clung to the word. +"The doctrine of Romance and Adventure--" She had said that "... in +mellower years, to close your eyes and dream of wandering in the 'Caves +of Kor' or the time you spent on a pirate island." She had the spirit of +youth eternal--youth with its orient mirages. He was having the Great +Adventure now. Soon it would be over. And then? Back to the old +routine--medicines and sun-scorched villages. (The thought was new, +strange. Had he ever been a doctor? It seemed so long ago!) But in the +years to come, at night, over his pipe, he could dream of it all. The +memory of things--that was life's recompense for taking them away. + + * * * * * + +Shortly after seven o'clock he arrived in Mandalay. As he left his +carriage, he saw a familiar figure--Kerth, scar, drooping eyelid and +all; saw him again, an hour and a half later, when he boarded the +Myitkyina train. + +A perceptible coolness invaded the carriage that night, and when Trent +awakened in the morning he looked out upon jade-green hills. The +scenery, as well as the people who stood on the railway platforms, had +changed. Great fern trees and immense clumps of bamboo grew on the +hillsides. + + * * * * * + +Evening was pouring its dusky glamour over the world, and the far, misty +ranges of the China frontier had purpled when Trent left the train at +Myitkyina, the terminus of the Burma Railway. He caught a glimpse of +Kerth hurrying away in the twilight as he despatched Tambusami to the P. +W. D. Inspection Bungalow to see if quarters were available there; and, +after numerous inquiries, took himself into the bazaar, to the shop of +Da-yak, the Tibetan. + +The latter proved to be a languid person with a blue _lungyi_ twisted +about his hips. He inspected Trent with narrow, inky-black eyes, and led +him into a back-room that stank of the hundred nameless odors of the +bazaar. There he glanced lazily, indifferently, at the coral symbol that +the Englishman showed him. + +"We expected you yesterday, _Tajen_," he announced indolently, in +atrocious English; and Trent wondered who the "we" included. "I am +instructed to tell you to go to the Inspection Bungalow and wait. I will +call for you later in the evening; in an hour, perhaps." + +Which concluded the interview. + +Trent decided immediately that Da-yak, the Tibetan, was of no +consequence, merely a mouthpiece. + +He returned to the station, where he had arranged to meet Tambusami. +There he waited for at least fifteen minutes. The native was in a high +state of excitement when he finally arrived. + +"Guru Singh is here, O Presence!" he reported. "I saw him down by the +river. He was in a boat, going upstream. I cried out to him and called +him a liar and a thief, and he told me I was a bastard! The swine! He +knew well I could not get my hands on him!" + +"And you let him get away?" Trent demanded. + +"What could I do, Presence? There was a Gurkha nearby, but I knew the +Presence did not want the police to interfere with his business. Think +you I would have let him go after he called me _that_, could I have +prevented it?" + +Trent wasn't so sure; but he only said: + +"Very well. What about quarters?" + +"All is arranged at the bungalow, Presence." + +Thinking of what Tambusami had told him, Trent left the station, the +native at his heels. He wondered. Did Guru Singh's presence mean that +the woman of the cobra-bracelet was in Myitkyina? + + +2 + +Just about the time Trent reached the P. W. D. Bungalow, a +street-juggler with a scar across one cheek and a drooping eyelid made +his way through the main road of the bazaar. His good eye was very +active--as was the other, for that matter, although less visible to +passers-by--and he swung along with his head cocked at a rakish angle, +pack slung over his shoulder, flashing smiles at the copper-skinned +Kachin and Maru girls. + +Singling out a shop where boiled frogs, sweetmeats and confectionery +were displayed to the mercy of insects, he approached, and, after +purchasing a delectable morsel cooked in _ghee_ (which he deposited in +his pocket instead of his stomach), he announced to the spare Burman who +lounged in the doorway: + +"I go to Bhamo to-morrow, O vender of sweets, and I must take my brother +a present. Canst thou suggest what it shall be?" Then, before the other +could answer, he went on: "I might buy an umbrella--or, better still, a +turban-cloth." + +The Burman came out of his lassitude enough to say that he sold very +beautiful turban-cloth, and much cheaper than any other merchant in the +bazaar. + +"I want a nice one," he of the drooping eyelid asserted; "a white one, +spotted like a cheetah, or perhaps yellow." + +The shopkeeper had none such as he described, he said, but he had some +fine cloth of red hue that came from a shop in Sule Pagoda Street, in +distant Rangoon. + +"Ah!" exclaimed the juggler. "I have been to Rangoon. It is a great +city. Let me see the cloth of red." + +In the course of bargaining, he said: + +"Tell me, O wise one, is there in the bazaar a merchant who bears the +name of Da-yak?" + +The Burman grunted that there was and waved his hand toward a lighted +doorway not far away. "There!" + +"Ah!" exclaimed the juggler again. And he added, by way of explanation, +that at Waingmaw, whence he had come, a friend warned him against buying +at the shop of Da-yak, who was a cheat. + +"All Tibetans are cheats," was the Burman's comment. + +"Has he been here long, robbing you of your trade?" the juggler pursued. + +"Oh, not very long," was the languid answer; "since about the time of +the casting of the bell in the pagoda last year. But his shop is not +half so nice as mine. He is a dirty wild-man." Then: "Didst thou say, O +traveller, that thou wouldst take the turban cloth for six rupees and +two annas?" + +"Nay, I am a poor man. For five rupees, O generous one." + +At length the turban-cloth was purchased, for five rupees, and the +juggler moved on. In front of the shop of Da-yak he paused, looked about +tentatively, then strode to a spot just outside the door. There he +unslung his pack. From a basket he produced a brass pot with a thin +neck. Squatting, back to the wall, he brought forth a flute and began to +play. + +At first the music attracted only children. But before many minutes +girls and men joined the circle about the juggler, and, as the group +enlarged, a sinuous black body rose from the brass pot; rose and dropped +back, like a geyser; rose again and slithered to the ground where it +curled its tail into an O, and, with head lifted, lolled to the +delirious piping. + +"A-ie!" sighed the onlookers with approval--and drew back a step. + +Presently a head was thrust out of the doorway of Da-yak's shop--as the +juggler did not fail to observe--and, following the head, its owner. He +squatted and indifferently watched the proceedings. + +After the cobra had danced, the juggler performed many feats of magic, +to the delight of the simple hill-people. When his repertory was +exhausted, the audience moved on and he found himself alone with the +squatting Tibetan merchant. + +"I am a stranger here, O brother," announced the juggler, pouring the +coins from his bowl into his hands and shifting them from one palm to +the other with a musical _clink-clink_. "Canst thou tell me where I will +find a bed for to-night?" + +In the dim light the juggler studied Da-yak's features--thin lips, high, +thin cheeks, and mere slits for eyes. + +"Thou canst find a bed of grass under any tree," was his reply, covertly +watching the coins. + +"Nay! Am I an animal that I should lie upon the ground when I sleep? +Hast thou no room? I am a story-teller and for a bed I will tell thee a +tale that thou hast never heard before!" + +"Nay, juggler, I have no time for stories." + +"Then thy children?" + +"I have none." + +"Perhaps thy wife?" + +"Nor have I a wife, either." + +The juggler grunted. "Art thou a celibate that thou hast no wife?" He +leaned closer, peering into the Tibetan's face. "Indeed, O merchant, thy +face is like that of a lama I knew in Simla!" + +Da-yak's slitty little eyes opened wider, showing small, bleary pupils. + +"What is it to thee, O scarred one, if I have a wife or not?" + +To himself the juggler admitted that it meant more than a little, but +to the Tibetan he said: "Scarred indeed, and afflicted of an eye! Seest +thou this?"--touching the scar. "It is a mark left by a Dugpa's +knife--in Tibet. I was headman for a Burra Sahib who traveled from +Sikkhim, which is a far country which thou hast never heard of, to the +holy city of Lhassa. From thence we went down, across many mountains, +into Hkamti Long and the Kachin country. At Fort Hertz we followed the +mule-road. That was many years ago." + +"Thou dost lie," accused Da-yak. "No white man has ever crossed from +Tibet into the country of the Hkamtis. There is no road there--" + +"Then where _is_ the road, indeed, if thou dost know?" interrupted the +juggler. + +"Did I say there was a road?" flared the Tibetan. "There is none." + +"There _is_ a road, if a road it can be called! For did not I travel it? +By the Four Truths of Gaudama Siddartha, it is thou who dost lie!" + +Da-yak's eyes burned with anger. "Why dost thou swear by the Lord +Gaudama?" + +Inwardly, the juggler smiled. "Why do rivers run down to the sea, thou +dolt?" he asked--and made a mystic sign, a sign that is known to few. + +Da-yak's eyes were no longer burning. But his inky-black pupils moved +nervously under the lids. + +"Thou dost make strange signs, O evil eye," he muttered. "How do I know +that thou hast not summoned _Nats_ to beset my shop and drive away those +who might buy?" He rose. "Go find a bed in the stink where thou dost +belong!" + +The juggler, too, rose. He spat contemptuously. + +"_Kala Nag!_" he hissed; which means, "black snake." + +And, picking up his pack, he swaggered off--while Da-yak, with an uneasy +glance over his shoulder, entered his shop. However, the juggler did not +go far. In the darkness of a nearby alley, from which point he could +observe anyone going in or out of Da-yak's house, he sat down to wait. +But not for long. Scarcely had five minutes passed before the Tibetan +emerged from the shop and, like a shadowy cinema-figure, hurried off in +the gloom. + +The juggler got up. He smiled--for, figuratively speaking, he possessed +a key to certain locked doors. + + +3 + +Trent was on the veranda, smoking, when Da-yak presented himself at the +Inspection Bungalow, and without a word he rose and accompanied the +Tibetan. + +"We go to the river, _Tajen_," the native informed him briefly. + +A walk past lighted bungalows and well-kept compounds brought them to +the river--the mighty Irrawaddi, flowing down from mountain heights, +past dead kingdoms and into tropical seas. A slim saber of a moon was +swinging up over the hills as they came within sight of the stream. It +showered the water with a wealth of silver coins that collected into a +band, and, shimmering and coruscating, stretched from the remote shore +to the sharply etched Kachin rafts and country-boats beneath the +Myitkyina bank. + +Into one of the smaller boats Da-yak led Trent. Two boatmen, both in +turban, jacket and _lungyi_, stepped lazily into the craft, and one +shoved off while the other crawled forward and plied his paddle, guiding +the boat into midstream and turning its prow with the current. The smell +of the jungle, warm, fragrant odors, hung in the air, and the rhythmic +dip of the paddle, with the sucking sounds produced by the water as it +slapped the sides, only italicized the silence. + +Trent, lounging among cushions amidships, let his eyes follow Da-yak, +who moved forward and took the paddle from the boatman. The latter, with +a murmured word, rose and crawled toward Trent. + +"I would sit beside you, Sahib," he announced in a soft voice. + +Trent stared--and the boatman laughed, a sweet laugh that rippled low in +the throat; laughed, and sank upon the pillows beside the man whose +breathing had grown a trifle faster as he inhaled the perfume of +sandalwood. + +"You are surprised?" asked Sarojini Nanjee, quite pleased with the +effect of her sudden appearance. + +He smiled. "You are clever." + +The woman clasped her hands behind her head and regarded him. The night +made secret certain of her features, for whereas the moon shone full +upon her face, softening the contours, her eyes were hid in dim mystery. +Thus, when she looked at him, (as she was doing every second) he could +not see her eyes. Which seemed to please her, for she lay back upon the +cushions, smiling, an insolently boyish figure. + +"Did not you find Tambusami an excellent bearer?" was her next +query--and he imagined her eyes were mocking him. + +"Quite"--rather drily. + +"Yet he cannot equal your Rawul Din," she went on. "He is a perfect +example of careful tutoring." + +She leaned closer, so close that the warmth of her breath was on his +lips, and her eyes, like black opals, burned near to his. + +"I wonder, man of wits, how many bearers would think to do what your +Rawul Din did, that night at my house?" Then she laughed and drew away; +and the musical peals were reminiscent of shattered crystals. "I +_should_ be angry--for why did you spy upon me?" + +"I don't understand"--this from him. + +"No?"--with irony. "Am I so dull that I do not understand when I find a +pool of wine under a divan? Oh, he was clever, very clever; but I was +more clever!" + +Trent wondered how much she knew. He felt sure she could not have +guessed the truth, for the discovery that Delhi was keeping a finger on +her would undoubtedly have angered her. + +"Surely you would like to know how I came here," she announced. "Why not +inquire?" + +"I was instructed to ask no questions," he reminded. + +She nodded that queer little nod of hers. + +"You obey well--when you wish to. But we have no time now to talk of +the past; suffice to say I come and go like the wind, when and where I +will, and depending upon no man." + +She settled deeper among the cushions and watched him--watched him +half-humorously, as though he belonged to her and she was undecided what +to do with him next. He realized she was waiting for him to speak, that +she wanted to find out what he had learned since their meeting at +Benares. Therefore he resolved to keep silent, not that what he knew was +of any significance, but because uncertainty on her part was his best +weapon. So he drew into his shell and waited. When she could no longer +endure it, she said: + +"Now that you are here, have you no thought of what you are to do?" + +"There's a platitude about anticipation," was his reply. "Preconceived +ideas never are correct." + +"You, of course, suspected Myitkyina was not the end of your journey?" + +"Then it isn't?" + +He could not see her eyes, but he knew she was looking at him closely. + +"Did not his Excellency Li Kwai Kung speak of certain terraces, each a +step toward enlightenment?" + +He nodded. "Is the City of the Falcon the next?" + +"Ultimately," she modified. + +"When do I start--or do _we_?" + +She shook her head. "_You_ start to-morrow." Then, following a pause: +"Previous to this you have been under my direct observation and +protection." That made him smile to himself. "I can no longer do that. +Certain threads will be placed in your hands and you will be left to +untangle them. And it will not be easy. That is why I chose you." + +The boatman had ceased paddling, and they drifted with the current in +silence that was like a presence. Now and then a gibbon called from the +bank; frequently fish leaped above the water, breaking the moon's path +into silver fragments. + +"Oh, it is far from easy!" she continued. "You will pass through a +stretch of country where no Englishman has been. There will be +discomforts--yes, dangers. The jungle knows how to torment white men. +Death in a hundred guises waits for the unwary; death in the poison +swamps, in the bush; death everywhere!" She straightened up, and her +hand closed over his. "There will be times when you will curse me for +having sent you! Yet in the end there is reward! Glory! Honor! Your name +will sweep from one end of the empire to the other!" Then she drew a +sharp breath, for she divined what was in his mind. "You believe I lie? +But I speak the truth, before all the gods! Yonder"--with a wave of her +hand--"beyond the moon, it lies, this city where the Falcon nests with +the treasures of Ind!" + +"You mean the jewels passed through Myitkyina?" he questioned, trying to +speak casually, as though it were a spontaneous query rather than a +studied interrogation. + +"Ah! Did I say so?" she fenced. "Nay! I will not answer that! Perhaps +they did; perhaps they did not." (Trent was more inclined to believe the +latter.) "However, they are there, beyond the moon, and every one shall +be returned, down to the smallest pearl!" + +It sounded rather preposterous to him. How could this thing be +accomplished by two people? Was she playing with him? She'd hardly dare. +She might risk it, were he alone, but with the Government of India +behind him a false move on her part would be her own defeat. Yet he +could not disassociate her from some hidden, not altogether pleasant, +purpose. + +"Aye!" she resumed. "You and I"--and her fingers tightened about his +hand--"shall do what the Secret Service could never do! We shall go +where they could never go! We shall understand things that they could +never understand! We are blessed of the gods, you and I! We shall pluck +the Falcon's pinions; rob his nest. And, oh, it will be a great jest, a +very great jest! If you only knew, you would laugh with me! But not yet. +It would spoil the secret to tell it now." + +"Yet you can tell me now," he suggested, "how far this Falcon's nest +is?" + +She inclined her head. "Yes, I can tell you that now." And her answer +was as fantastic as the city itself: "It is nearly eight hundred miles." + +Inwardly, he started. A moment passed before he spoke. + +"Nearly eight hundred miles," he repeated, picturing as accurately as +possible a map. "Traveling west of Myitkyina that would take us beyond +the Brahmaputra; east, into China--about upper Yunnan or Kweichow; and +north--well, the Tibetan _border_ is three hundred miles from Myitkyina. +Which is it: north, east or west?" + +"Which seems the most likely? In which of the three regions would the +Falcon's nest be in less danger of discovery by blundering British +agents?" + +He had guessed, but he did not wish to commit himself. He deliberately +chose-- + +"Beyond the Brahmaputra?" + +She laughed. "You are no fool. The moment I said nearly eight hundred +miles you knew I meant Tibet." + +He considered for some time. Then: "That's impossible." Subconsciously, +he was thinking of the coral pendant.... Janesseron, a Tibetan god. Nor +had he forgotten what Kerth told him in Rangoon. + +"What is impossible?" + +"Tibet." + +She chose to smile at that. Apparently she enjoyed the astonishment that +he made no effort to conceal. + +"There is a way and a means for everything! Whither goes the elephant +when his time is come? Does man know?" She shrugged. "Oh, it is a +strange planet, this!" + +She drew something white from beneath her jacket--something that +crackled as she unfolded it and spread it upon her knees. The moonlight +showed him the faint tracery of a map. + +"Bend closer," she directed. "See, here is Myitkyina"--her finger rested +on a tiny dot. "Above is the confluence of the Irrawaddi. The Mali-hka +flows northeast, the 'Nmai-hka northwest. You will follow a route in the +triangular space between the two rivers, in a territory where Government +surveyors have never been. At the edge of the Duleng country you cross +the 'Nmai-hka and go eastward to a town across the Chinese border, in +Yunnan. It is called Tali-fang, and is under the administration of a +military governor, the _Tchentai_. Just beyond Tali-fang is the +Yolon-noi Pass into Tibet. And there"--she touched a blank space in +Tibet, in the northwest corner of Kham--"is the City of the Falcon. Its +name is Shingtse-lunpo." + +That conveyed nothing to Trent. But its situation did. In Tibet, between +the sources of the Brahmaputra and the Mekong! It was as incredible as +if she had informed him he was to go to the moon. Her figure of speech +was not amiss--"Beyond the moon." That territory was as nebulous as the +regions of the moon, as weirdly unreal. It was the country toward which +Mohut, the explorer, had striven, which Prince Henri d'Orleans had +skirted. + +"From Myitkyina," he heard Sarojini Nanjee saying, "to Tali-fang, you +will be guided by a Lisu; there will be porters, of course. At Tali-fang +you must call at the _Yamen_ of the _Tchentai_, who will furnish fresh +mules and supplies. There you will also exchange your porters and guide +for Tibetan caravaneers. A passport is necessary to enter +Shingtse-lunpo, but that will be provided. Once inside, you will be upon +your own resources." + +"As whom does the Falcon know me?" he inserted. + +"I am coming to that. He knows you as Tavernake, the jeweler--a +childhood friend of mine. The work he expects you to do is to oversee +the cutting and resetting of the jewels--a work that you will never do. +He will no doubt see you before I do, so guard your tongue. Trust no one +unless he comes in my name and has proof." + +"Then I shall see you there?" + +A nod. "I start to-night, as I must reach Shingtse-lunpo in advance of +you. Oh, as I said, I come and go as the wind, when and where I will, +and depending upon no man! But I do not go as Sarojini Nanjee.... Just +before you reach Tali-fang--it will not be necessary until then--Masein, +your Lisu guide, will help you effect a transformation from a white man +to a Hindu merchant from Mandalay. White skins are not popular in that +region. You speak Hindustani as well as some Hindus, better than others. +Avoid the natives as much as possible, for they are not over-fond of any +one who is not of their race. If asked whither you go, say to a holy +city in Tibet." + +Silence settled for a moment after that. They were more than a mile from +Myitkyina, and the silver coins still glittered and danced in midstream. + +"D'you think," he began at length, "if the Government knew I was going +into Tibet, it would approve?" + +She shrugged. "Why not? It was understood at Delhi that you were to do +as I directed; go wherever I willed." + +"Suppose--" But he halted. + +"Yes?" + +"Suppose I am killed in Tibet?" + +"But you will not be." + +"You said there would be dangers." + +"Yes--but you are a resourceful man." + +"Frequently resourceful men are killed. Let us suppose I were murdered +in Tibet--by robbers, we'll say. It would place my Government in an +awkward position. Could Tibet explain satisfactorily; or would there be +a British expedition, resulting in death for hundreds, because of one +indiscreet Englishman?" + +"Is it indiscreet," she countered, "to recover the jewels?" + +He appeared to be considering that. Finally: + +"If it were made known that the gems are there, the Government could +demand action from the ruling powers of Tibet--or send an expedition." + +She laughed. "Do you call that logic? And answer me, impossible one, who +_are_ the 'ruling powers' of Tibet, as you choose to call them? The +Dalai Lama? Or the British Raj? Answer me that! And as for the +expedition: _we_ are the expedition. In this case the wits of two are +worth more than a hundred Lee-Metfords. Guile! Guile is the stronger +weapon--and it does not attract so much attention as guns!" + +Again silence. They were still drifting with the current. Behind, in the +moon's path, was a tiny blotch--another boat. He watched it curiously. +Seeing his inquisitive look, the woman spoke. + +"No doubt it is Tambusami with your luggage; I instructed him to fetch +it from the Inspection Bungalow and follow. Yonder," she explained, with +a gesture downstream, "is your camp. There you will remain until dawn. I +shall accompany you to the camp, as I have further instructions to give +your guide." + +Questions bred in Trent's brain and clamored for utterance, but he +pressed them back. For her to know he was anxious was the surest way to +learn nothing. Therefore he held his tongue, reflecting upon what she +had told him. + +He was suspicious of her promises. She was not a type to volunteer +service to a government without some personal motive. And of her motives +he was doubtful. There was a scheme of her own interrelated and under +the surface. Too, he felt that by this latest move, in having his +luggage brought from the Inspection Bungalow, she had thrown Kerth off +the trail. + +He extracted cigarettes from his pocket, for he felt that a smoke would +clarify his thoughts; passed the case to her. She took one with +languorous grace and bent nearer for him to light it. As the match +flared, he saw her eyes, again like black opals, close to his. But he +learned no secrets from them; they were as baffling, as crowded with +mysteries, as the black jungles ahead of him. + +"There is much more to be explained," she said, tilting her head and +expelling smoke from her nostrils; "certain things to be ignorant of +which would surely lead to trouble...." + +As they drifted on she talked, cigarette in one hand, the other resting +upon the map. Before long Da-yak plied his paddle, sending little +ripples over the stars that lay reflected like silver pebbles in the +river. The moon rode high above the hills, a phantom dugout, and the +collar of silver coins spread in extravagant display. The boatman in the +rear crooned a song of ancient Hkamti--of a Sawbwa who loved a Maru +maiden and forsook his kingdom for the dark-eyed daughter of delight. +And Trent, listening, felt himself drawn back to the night when he stood +in the bow of the _Manchester_, in the realm of the stars, and Romance +whispered an old, old tale. + +The spell did not leave until the boat grated upon a sandbank, close to +a dark tangle of forest, and Da-yak sprang out. Then Sarojini Nanjee put +away the map, rose and took Trent's hand. + +"Your camp is only a short distance beyond the trees," she told him. + +As he stepped out of the boat Da-yak made a sound like a night-bird, and +a moment later there came an answering cry from the dark thicket. + + +4 + +When the juggler--he of the scar and the drooping eyelid--left the alley +in the bazaar, it was to follow Da-yak. At the P. W. D. Bungalow he saw +a sahib join the Tibetan--which was what he expected. From there he +tracked them to the river, and stood upon the high bank watching as they +cast off and glided downstream. + +When they were well under way he sauntered down to the huddle of boats, +and, choosing one, dropped his pack in the bow and kicked the Kachin who +lay sleeping in the bottom. + +"Wake up, lazy one; I would go to Waingmaw." + +The boatman, thus awakened, looked up with unconcealed hostility. Seeing +a native, and a ragged one at that, he let go a stream of oaths that, +fortunately for him, were not understood by the juggler. However, the +latter imagined from the tone in which the words were delivered that he +was being neither praised nor glorified. + +"This for thy trouble, O boatman," said the juggler, choosing to ignore +the oaths and thrusting a banknote within view of the Kachin's eyes. + +The boatman, not entirely appeased yet too avaricious to allow a mere +insult to stand between him and the banknote, pushed off, and the +juggler seated himself in the stern, both to steer and to watch the +craft ahead. + +"Do not gain on yonder boat," he instructed when they were in midstream, +"nor lose. If thou hast a conscience that thou canst smother, then this +night will indeed be profitable for thee, Kachin." + +The juggler said this knowing well that his every word would be repeated +to all the boatmen in Myitkyina, and that, after traveling through +devious channels, they would reach the bazaar, greatly magnified en +route. For what purpose a juggler with a drooping eyelid had followed a +boat down the river could only be surmised--but bazaars surmise much. + +"Know you those who are in that boat?" he continued, baiting gossip. + +The Kachin grunted--which was intended as a negative answer. + +"The boatmen are no friends of thine?" + +Another grunt. "The boat belongs to Kin Lo," the Kachin volunteered, +chewing on an opium pellet. "But some stranger hired it for the night." +And he added, by way of personal suggestion, "They paid well." + +This information pleased the juggler, for he smiled and drew out a +cheroot and lighted it. + +"Aye!" he growled. "They paid well, did they? Well, why should they not? +Robbers! Sons of swine! Listen, Kachin--in yonder boat is my enemy. From +Mandalay I have followed him, and ere the moon sinks I shall avenge the +wrongs he committed against my house!" + +"A-a-ah!" sympathized the Kachin, forgetting the rude awakening--they +are as eager for scandal, these wild men of the hills, as the most +polished Englishman who sits beneath a punkah in Rangoon Cantonment. + +Whereupon the juggler recited a tale of imaginary woes and wrongs that +did justice to his alleged art of story-telling. Myitkyina's lights had +long dropped away behind when the juggler saw the leading boat turn, +cross the path of moonlight and glide shoreward. + +"Ah!" he muttered. "See, Kachin, he thinks to elude me, the swine!" + +A glance behind showed him another craft--a mere speck on the expanse of +the river. For a moment he was undecided what to do, then, with an +exclamation of satisfaction, he stripped himself but for a perineal +band. + +"Listen well, Kachin," he admonished, creeping forward. "It is not wise +for my enemy to see me coming ashore; therefore I shall swim, like a +crocodile. Turn back to Myitkyina. There hurry to the bungalow of +Colonel Warburton Sahib--you know where it is? Tell him he is wanted at +the landing immediately. He will go." + +"But my money," objected the Kachin. "How do I know you will come back?" + +"Dost thou not see, O fool, that I have left my clothes and my pack? +Will not I return for them?" + +The boatman was not positive of that. + +"Well, then, I will give you half now," compromised the juggler, taking +a wallet from the inside pocket of his discarded jacket. The Kachin +watched with crafty eyes to see if the wallet would be returned to the +pocket, but the juggler thrust it carefully under his turban. + +"Lend me thy _dah_," he directed. "And do as I said. Thou shalt be well +rewarded for thy trouble." + +With the knife gripped between his teeth, he slipped over the side into +the current. He made no sound as he swam away from the boat; only his +moving head and the ripples in his wake told of swift, underwater +strokes. + +The river was cool--old wine to the muscles--and he made for the bank +several hundred feet above the white stretch of sand where the other +craft had landed. Not until he was very close to the shore could he +touch bottom. There he halted, head above the surface, eyes straining to +penetrate the gloom further along. He could make out the faint blur of +the boat and a single figure huddled in the stern. A look toward +midstream showed him his craft fast being absorbed by the darkness. +Behind it, coming from Myitkyina, was another boat. + +He waited for events to mature. When the latter craft, which he could +see contained two forms, came abreast of him, midstream, it turned +shoreward and a few minutes later touched the sandbank near the boat +that he had followed. He could dimly make out the two forms as they +carried several bulky objects ashore and vanished in the jungle--leaving +the solitary figure huddled in the rear of one of the boats. + +The juggler smiled to himself and struck out, swimming easily with the +current. Less than twenty yards from the boat he submerged, propelling +himself forward until yellow sparks reeled before him; then he buoyed +himself up. + +The two country-boats loomed close by. His heart beat a tattoo against +his breast as he waited, feet upon the pebbly bottom, to see if his +approach had been heard. Apparently it had not, for the man--a native +boatman from his appearance--lounged in the rear seat, his body slouched +forward. + +After a brief hesitation the juggler (his eyelid no longer drooping) +took the _dah_ from between his teeth and moved slowly, cautiously to +the rear of the boat. It was shallower there; the water barely reached +his arm-pits and his chin was level with the back of the craft. The man +had not stirred; he was evidently asleep, the juggler thought. The +forest that met the sandbank was silent but for the whirr of cicadas. + +For a full moment the juggler stood motionless. When he moved it was +quickly--and before the native had time to realize what had occurred, he +was seized and jerked backward over the stern. If he cried out, the +water smothered the sound. But what he failed to do in noise, he made up +for in activity. He squirmed and wriggled, his legs and arms thrashing +about in vain effort to wrest himself from the grasp of his sudden +assailant. But the juggler had the advantage of surprise--and a firm +hold on the native's neck--and he brought the hilt of the _dah_ down +upon the latter's skull. The native relaxed--sank with a gurgle.... The +juggler lifted him. Assured that he was only unconscious, he dragged him +to the sandbank, and there, breathing heavily, sank on his knees. + +The native, like the juggler, had a beardless face and was naked but for +loincloth and turban. The latter was small, a mere rag twisted around +his head. Therefore, the juggler told himself with the darkness as his +ally he might easily pass for the other--for a short while at least. And +the defeat of empire has been accomplished in less than an hour. + +He quickly stripped the man, then cut his own turban into strips and +gagged and bound the unconscious one. When this was done, he caught the +fellow under the arms and dragged him several yards down the bank. +There, carefully selecting a spot in the undergrowth where he was not +likely to be soon found, he hid him. Retracing his steps to the boat, he +sat down in the stern to wait. + +Indeed, he reflected, his kismet looked upon him with favor. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +FEVER + + +Like a black wedge driven from Hkamti Long into Upper Burma, its point +touching the confluence of the Irrawaddi, lies a strip of territory that +on British maps is marked "unadministered." Outposts have been +established on either side, from Fort Hertz down to Myitkyina, paltry +stations where, in many instances, one white man and less than a company +of Gurkhas impose law upon primitive tribes. Thus, walled by +civilization yet untouched by it, the people of this black wedge live. A +peaceful lot now, this remnant of the once great Tai race. +Copper-skinned men hunt through its cathedral forests with _dah_ and +crossbow. Baboons, buffalo and musk deer roam over its hills. Reptiles +haunt the green mucous of miasmatic valleys. Fever and pestilence lurk +in the purple fungi spawned by dark jungles, in bogs and in swamps where +the stench of rotten orchids hangs like a poison-vapor. + +Into this black wedge Trent traveled. Late afternoon of the ninth day +found his caravan encamped on a spit of sand reaching out into a river, +a stream that moved languorously between high canebrake. The man who sat +on a collapsible campstool before his tent, smoking, was as little like +the Englishman who got off the train at Myitkyina ten days before as +possible. His khaki breeches and flannel shirt were streaked with dust; +mud was caked upon his boots. The sun had burned him a deeper bronze, +and every variety of insect, from sandfly to blood-sucker, had left +marks upon him. A nine-days' growth of beard helped to cover tawny +fever-stains, but blotches showed on his neck and hands.... The jungle +had shown him how she initiates her neophytes. + +As he sat there staring at the jade-green river, he went back, in +retrospection, over the journey--not that he derived any pleasure from +the recollections, but because his brain seemed inclined to reach behind +and he was too mentally weary to make any effort to prevent it. To him, +now, those nine days were a confused sequence. For many miles beyond the +'Nmai-hka travel was not difficult, along bridle-paths and past villages +where Kachin and Maru women, flat-featured, ugly creatures, planted +their _taungya_, and men sat outside fiber huts and chewed betel leaves; +rugged, undulating country; rivers that flung their torrents over +shallow beds and were spanned by rattan bridges, the latter impossible +for the mules. Twice, where the water was too deep, Trent had the +muleteers construct crude rafts and pole the pack-animals across. The +first time they attempted this they lost a mule. Trent would always +remember that scene: the shrieking porters on the raft, the look of the +beast as the stream wrapped foaming arms about it and dragged it down +among sharp-fanged rocks. + +That night he had had his first attack of fever. For several hours he +lay on his camp-bed, harassed by ticks and bloodflies, shivering and +vomiting at intervals. Then he fell asleep, and when he awakened in the +morning, with rain drip-dripping monotonously upon tapering fronds, his +back ached and he was a furnace. All day it rained and all day Masein, +the Lisu guide, attended him. The following morning he had only a slight +temperature--a chronic touch of fever that remained for several +days--and he pressed on. + +Hourly the country grew wilder. They passed through thickets and +underbrush as tall as a man. Wild pigs scurried away in the bracken, and +jungle fowl preened their wings in the shadow of groping plants, taking +flight at the appearance of human beings. The fourth night they were +close to a stretch of burning bamboo--one of those sourceless fires that +spring up and sweep over miles. It was an awesome sight, the flames +flaring crimson against the sky, like the angry vomit of a crater, the +bamboo stalks popping and crackling as loud as the rattle of +machine-guns. + +Soon their trail led into great, dim forests. There the sunlight, robbed +of its pitiless blaze, sifted through interlaced branches and sucked up +moisture from the ground, creating a weird green haze. The air was +malarial, the ground ever soggy and in places treacherous. More than +once the mules sank to their bellies in bogs and fens. The miasmas +crawled with stealthy life--snakes and horrid land-crabs. Leeches bred +by the millions, and the oozy corruption exuded a thin, luminous vapor +that was warm and clammy and reeked of decayed matter. This noxious +swamp-effluvia seemed to penetrate to every crevice of Trent's being; it +saturated his brain; it tainted his thoughts. He ceased to marvel at the +wilderness of plumed flowers, of dank jungle caverns where sunlight +pulsed through the lacework of leaves in needles of white +flame--stretches where convolvulus fought for possession of every limb +and trunk, and insects rattled above stagnant pools of Death.... There +were times when a fever-film separated him from the world about him and +deprived objects of their individuality. + +At night spunk shone like phantom eyes. Strange winged creatures wheeled +out of the darkness. Baboons coughed in the bush. When the moon came out +the swamps glittered like sheets of rusted gunmetal--or, if it stormed, +the great jungle-expanse seemed a chapel of terror. Often Trent tried to +read by the campfire. But invariably the print danced before his eyes. +He would lie down outside the tent, listening to the Maru porters piping +on bamboo flutes, and when he grew sleepy Masein would rub him with +alcohol.... Thus he spent his evenings. + +Frequently--at dusk, dawn or midday--cool hands of memory fell with +silken lightness upon his feverish thoughts, the hands of the girl who +had become so closely woven into the fabric of his being. During those +half-delirious hours she grew to be an integral possession, a real +presence, warm and tangible.... And just as frequently, perhaps more +poignantly, he thought of Manlove. The silence, the isolation from his +kind, seemed to press deeper the realization of what had occurred. +There were moments when it seemed unreal; when the woman of the +cobra-bracelet, Chatterjee and the others that played in the drama, were +vague shapes in a shadow-show.... Or, if it had all happened, it was +long ago, dim as a dream.... That was fever. + +Too, he thought of Euan Kerth and conjectured what had become of him +since that evening he hurried away in the dusk at Myitkyina. That he had +lost the trail he felt certain, although there was a chance that he +would appear unexpectedly, as he had done before--a very filmy chance. +Had he discovered where Trent was going, he would surely have +communicated with him in some way. + +At several villages he inquired through Masein if another caravan had +preceded his. By the negative replies it became evident that Sarojini +Nanjee had taken another route, and he strongly suspected that she had +deliberately sent him on the longer and more difficult of the two. After +a few attempts to draw information from Masein, he decided that the Lisu +knew nothing, was simply what he was represented to be--a guide. + +The country beyond the swampland afforded much better traveling. To the +west mountains were visible--faint pastels of gray and pearl and +amethyst. In rocky gashes in the earth little cataracts fumed and +tumbled, and ferns and orchids grew in damp, moss-covered hollows. Trent +shot a deer and several pheasants. The higher altitude buoyed his +spirits, as did the fresh venison and fowl after so much canned food. +He ceased thinking morose thoughts. Yet the horror and reek of those +two days in the miasmas still clung in his memory, even in his nostrils, +he sometimes imagined. + +Thus, on the afternoon of the ninth day, they came to the spit of sand +reaching out into the river and pitched camp; and Trent, pipe in mouth, +sat in front of his shelter and looked at the Maru porters swimming in +the jade-green river without seeing them, while Masein gathered fuel, +and the mules, tethered near to the canebrake, swung their heads and +stamped in futile efforts to shake off leeches. There was nothing in the +scene even to suggest that an eventful night was being ushered in. + +The sun dropped lower. It chased the jade-green river with gold until it +glittered like a scaly python. Fireflies glimmered in the rushes, and a +bat pursued a velvety-winged moth.... Across the stream, from a Shan +village somewhere close by, a gong sounded. The Marus, laughing, swam +across and disappeared in the high grass. Masein called after them, but +received no response, and, muttering to himself, he impaled a strip of +venison upon a stick and held it over the flame. It writhed.... + +A few minutes later Trent was stripped and in the water. Refreshed by a +swim, he dried himself and ate a meal of venison steak and tea. Stars +sprinkled the still flushed sky, like drippings from a silver +paint-brush, and under the spell of the jungle sunset Trent sat down in +front of his tent to smoke. + +It was then that he heard a faint, staccato report--like that of a +revolver or a rifle. + +It came from the hill-jungle behind the camp, and for several seconds +afterward he listened for a repetition. Masein, too, had heard, for he +stood motionless, looking at his master. But there was no second report, +and the silence, the utter quiet, made Trent wonder if he had really +heard anything. If it was a shot--? Well, he knew the natives had no +firearms; there must be white men in the district, P. W. D. men or +Government officers. In that event he did not wish to be seen, as there +would be questions to answer. He therefore suggested that Masein +investigate, and the Lisu plunged eagerly into the canebrake. + +A moment afterward Trent's imagination supplied a solution for the +shot--Kerth. He started to call Masein back, but reconsidered and +waited.... His wrist-watch ticked off fifteen minutes. He noticed, +abstractedly, pale flickerings on the far-away hills. When a half hour +had passed he followed the native's trail through the rushes and along a +narrow bridle-path. Not far from camp he met Masein. + +"It is a white man, master," exclaimed the Lisu. "He has a camp +there"--with a gesture. + +Then he extended something that glinted softly in the gloom, and Trent +took it and examined it closely. The blood throbbed in his throat. + +"Where did you get this?" he demanded. + +"He gave it to me, master--the white man. He said when you saw that you +would come." + +Without another word Trent followed the Lisu, the blood still throbbing +hotly in his throat. For the thing that glinted softly was a golden +bracelet with the figure of a king-cobra wrought in heavy relief upon +it. + +More than a half-mile from the camp, on the trail that Trent's caravan +had traveled, they came to a clearing. A tent was pitched at one side, a +litter of packs scattered carelessly about three mules. A shadowy form +sat on a stool before the tent-door--a form that resolved into a young +man in khaki and a sun-helmet. The revolver that he held shone in the +deep twilight. + +As Trent and the Lisu appeared he jumped up. Trent instinctively drew +his weapon. The young man stumbled toward him. A yard away he paused and +swayed; his revolver slipped from limp fingers. + +"Major Trent!" + +At the sound of the voice, Trent sprang forward and caught the slim +form. It relaxed and the sun-helmet fell to the ground, releasing a +wealth of hair that rippled down and showered the shoulders with coiled +strands that in the fading light gleamed like molten copper. + +"Oh, I knew you would come!" she gasped, with a hysterical little laugh. +"I--I sent that--like Kurnavati sent her bracelet--to Humayun--only--you +came--in time!" + +Whereupon her head dropped back and the starlight shone upon cool, +lustrous features. But she was not cool. Trent felt the heat of her +body, and, apprehensive, he placed his hand upon her forehead; let it +slip down until it touched the pulse in her throat; drew a sharp breath +and swore. Her eyes were open--glassy, staring eyes that looked at him +without seeing. + +"Miss Charteris!" he said. "Where are your porters? Who's with you? +You're not here alone, are you?" + +She did not answer. The lids sank over her eyes, and he knew she had +fainted. He looked about irresolutely. Through the trees, in the +direction of his camp, he saw a quick flash. + +"There was nobody else here when you first came?" he asked Masein; then, +as the Lisu answered negatively, commanded: "Look in the tent." + +Masein obeyed. His expression when he emerged told Trent it was empty. +The Englishman lifted the girl in his arms. + +"Wait here a few minutes," he instructed. "If anybody comes, report it +to me." + +With that he turned and strode back along the bridle-path, laboring +under the weight of the girl's body. + +Frequent flashes illuminated earth and sky; thunder grumbled, +approaching closer with every roll. A wind had sprung up and was +rustling the leaves overhead. Trent hurried, fearing the storm would +break before he reached camp. + +When he finally came to the sand-spit the wind was wildly whipping the +tent-flap. The stars had gone, and lightning, streaks following in rapid +succession, reflected a livid, sick hue upon the river. The girl was +conscious when he placed her upon his cot. She clung to his hands. + +"Where is the pain?" he asked. "In your back mainly?" + +She only moaned; he felt a tremor pass through her. Gently freeing his +hands, he went outside and shouted for one of the Marus. He swore +savagely when he received no answer. After strengthening the tent-pegs, +he made a search for his electric pocket-lamp. Snapping it on, he opened +his medicine-case; took out a hypodermic syringe.... + +The rain came then, suddenly, in a drenching downpour. Sheets of water, +illuminated by vivid flares, swept across the river; ruthlessly lashed +the canebrake; beat deafeningly upon the canvas. Thunder crashed out in +mighty belches that shook the very ground.... It seemed that the +artilleries of the universe had concentrated upon earth. + +Trent knelt beside Dana Charteris, holding her hands and frequently +feeling her pulse. The girl went from one paroxysm of shivering into +another. Gradually the opiate deadened the pain. Several times she tried +to speak to him, but he put his fingers over her lips. + +Meanwhile the tent-ropes strained, the wind tore through the trees. An +occasional crash told of a falling limb. For over an hour this +continued; then it ceased as suddenly as it had begun. When the wind +died down, Trent lighted a candle. Dana Charteris was as still and white +as a chiseled figure on a tomb. The sight of her made him catch his +breath. As he drew nearer she opened her eyes. He lifted one burning +wrist. + +"My porters," she whispered. "They ran away--I--" + +"You must keep very quiet," he interposed. + +"Is--is it--that bad?" + +He hesitated, then nodded. She closed her eyes; opened them an instant +later. + +"But do you want to save me? You know now ... the bracelet ..." + +"You must keep quiet," he repeated. "You must help me that way." + +A short while afterward, when the pattering rain had ceased and stars +peeped through the doorway, Masein crept in and told Trent something. +What it was the Englishman could not remember; he remembered only that +he directed the Lisu to break up the girl's camp and bring her mules and +supplies to the sand-spit. Every thought was focussed upon the slim hot +body that rolled and tossed upon the cot. She begged for injections of +opiate and sobbed when he refused. His lip was sore from the pressure of +his teeth. With each shiver of pain he suffered. It was one of the few +times in his career when he was afraid, dreadfully afraid. + +The dark hours wore on. Shortly after first-dawn she fell into a +restless feverish sleep. He slipped out to tell Masein to fetch fresh +water, and as he reëntered he felt a hard object in his pocket, pressing +against his thigh. It was the bracelet. He withdrew it, vanquishing by +sheer force the thoughts that uprose in his mind, and placed it in his +kit-bag. There it would stay until she could speak. + +As morning looked down from a golden sky Dana Charteris awakened, and +the battle was on again. + + +2 + +During the next two days Trent lost cognizance of time. He warred +against elemental forces, armed with the crudest of weapons. Queer, +unfolding moments came to him, bringing a potent consciousness of +conflict that took him back to nights of tragedy and smoky turmoil--a +sense of blood in throat and nostrils that soldiers know. + +The girl wavered on the border of delirium. In her weakness she pleaded +for false stimulation, and there were times when he was tempted, for her +sake, to take the easiest course. Yet he knew that to surrender would +slay the tissues of resistance that he had struggled so steadfastly to +build, and he forced himself to consider only a lasting relief, +suffering himself an anguish as keen as the physical and experiencing +self-loathing when he performed those intimacies that were demanded of +him. + +He had fought death where the harvest was ghastly, perhaps had grown a +little calloused, as men will when in close and constant contact with +human ills, yet always, even in the case of the meanest Hindu coolie, he +felt a responsibility that challenged his sparring instincts. It was as +though he guarded some terrible frontier.... But nothing had ever so +drawn upon him and consumed his every unit of nerve and energy as this. +He felt wholly accountable for her condition, here in this remote spot. +Her pain was his own, a part of him, feeding upon his vitality. He gave +willingly, seeming in moments when she was drawn close to the Door to +infuse into her the power to fight as he, a strong man, could +fight--physically and spiritually. He was lifting her, but sinking +himself as he lifted. There were periods when thought and action were no +longer submissive to will; his brain felt atrophied and he was sentient +only to utter exhaustion. He seemed incapable of stemming the rush of +things beyond his dominion--was an atom in the path of a blinding and +inexorable force. The values of human remedies and sciences dwindled in +his sight. He was drained. Yet a vitalizing power, some inner dynamo, +never failed to energize him. He attended to every detail himself, +allowing Masein and the Marus only to take turns with a palmleaf at the +bedside.... It was, after he had exhausted medical means, a grapple in +the dark with foes that were neither tangible nor corporeal; when it was +over he did not understand nor try to fathom the miracle that was +wrought. + +At dusk of the third day her temperature was almost normal and she was +sleeping quietly. Trent, his face haggard, left the Lisu fanning her and +lurched rather than walked to the river. He shed his clothing and lay +for some time in the shallow water, his head pillowed upon one bent arm, +tasting of absolute relaxation. + +When he returned to the tent Dana Charteris was awake. Her hair lay in +red-gold confusion about her white face--a pool of glowing shades and +lights. She smiled faintly as he entered and he took the palmleaf from +Masein, motioning him to leave. She spoke. + +"I think we've won." + +By that he knew they had. A surge of relief swept up through him. It was +like a new and strange delirium; it unseated his control. He sank upon +his knees, and his lips touched one cool, moist hand. The fingers of her +other hand ran lightly through his hair. + +"O Arnold Trent, how you fought!" she breathed tremulously. "And all the +while you were wondering, wondering why I was there that night--why I--" + +"Hush," he remonstrated, lifting his head, again in command of himself. +"It isn't finished yet. You must promise not to speak of that--not until +I ask you. Now go to sleep. That is the quickest way you can get well." + +"I promise," she said weakly, tears trembling in her eyes, "if you will +rest, too. Will you? You need to be strong--strong--so you can help me." + +She closed her eyes; sighed. Her hand slipped from his clasp. + +He spread a blanket on the sand in front of the tent; spread it, and lay +down; and almost instantly sleep declared itself the emperor of his +being. + + +3 + +The convalescence of Dana Charteris was short. A break in the rains had +more than a little to do with her recovery, for the sunshine was a +golden elixir that aroused the stricken forces of her body, was a +warmth that wiped away the fever-stains and ripened a faint color in +her cheeks. + +Once Trent offered to read to her. She begged him instead to tell her of +those tiger-hunts with his father. That seemed to touch a spring that +opened secret vaults of his nature. There was color and feeling in his +telling. He spoke in the abstract. She could smell the beast, flanks +aquiver, and wet, monsoon jungles in his sentences--sentences that +abounded with the metaphors that he liked to use.... India lived in her +while he talked--India, her wildernesses and her cities, her heart-break +and her treachery. Too, he taught her a few Hindustani words and +phrases. + +But his contributions did not alone make those hours rare. Her gifts +were as precious as pearls. Gossamer dawns when the sun's sabers smote +the lingering darkness and sent it reeling, when life seemed at its +ripest; the languor of purple nights, campfires glowing in the dusk--all +these were but vessels for the exquisite revelation of her. + +Yet under their talk was a strain that never relaxed. In the main part, +they spoke guardedly. The man never ceased to wonder what the +consequences of the delay would be, and it concerned him more than a +little what Sarojini Nanjee might do if she learned through Masein of an +alien presence in the caravan; while the girl, realizing she was holding +him back, yet dreading the time when he pronounced her entirely +recovered, was in a constant state of chaos. + +The fourth day after she passed the danger mark brought to a climax +their play-acting. The sun, like a red-lacquered ball, was rolling +toward the hills, shying little bronze disks at the river, and Dana +Charteris was seated on a blanket in front of the tent. Trent went to +his kit-bag to get a fresh supply of tobacco, and the gold bracelet +slipped out. She smiled--a frightened smile. She broke the tension by +saying: + +"There's no use to pretend any longer. I can't endure it. I'm delaying +you. I am strong enough to--to--" She stopped; began anew. "Oh, you've +been fighting against it! You're afraid for me to speak, afraid--" Again +she halted, groping for words. + +He had picked up the bracelet. She caught his hand. + +"Sit down, won't you?" + +He sank beside her. But his eyes were upon the heavily-chased circlet of +gold. + +"You've been so kind!" she breathed. "And all along, when you realized I +had been deceiving you, you tried to tell yourself it wasn't true; that +there might be two bracelets like that, and that it wasn't I who wore it +at Gaya that night. But there's probably not another bracelet like that +in India. My brother bought it for me in Delhi. It _was_ I who wore it +at Gaya--who spoke to you on the road--who eavesdropped--who tried to +cheat you--who ran away, like a coward, when it became known that +Captain Manlove had been--been killed!" + +Strained silence followed, the girl eagerly watching his face for some +expression either of encouragement or condemnation, the man staring at +the bracelet in his hands. She forced herself to go on. + +"There's so much to tell that.... Well, I'll start at the very +beginning, when my brother sent for me to come to India--" + +Followed a recital of the meeting in Delhi and of her brother's story of +the jewels of Indore. + +"That night some one entered Alan's room and stole the imitation Pearl +Scarf," she continued. "Alan was hurt--stabbed. Later I found the +thief's turban and, inside, a scrap of paper with foreign writing upon +it. When I showed it to Alan, he said it was Urdu. Translated, it read +something like this: 'His name is Major Arnold Trent, of Gaya.'" + +Trent lifted his eyes questioningly, and she nodded. + +"Yes, your name and address. That was all.... Alan was of the opinion +that the package Chavigny carried into the bazaar at Indore contained +the _real_ Pearl Scarf, and that instead of the copy he snatched that. +By some means, he believed, it was traced to him--and stolen--whether by +Chavigny or another he could only guess. + +"I had an inspiration." She smiled slightly. "You will think me +foolish--yet--yet you seemed to understand on the _Manchester_ when I +told you of the 'Caves of Kor' and the pirate island. I saw the doors of +my adventure opening. Too, I wanted to help Alan. I suggested that I +might learn something if I went to Gaya; Alan couldn't because of his +hurt. He wouldn't hear of it at first, but I finally persuaded him--and +went to Gaya, intending to go no further, not realizing--" + +She broke off abruptly, shrugged. + +"The afternoon I reached Gaya I hunted up your bungalow, merely to get +the location. That was the time I met you on the road. I'm a poor +adventurer, for that encounter frightened me dreadfully--and by the way +you looked at that"--indicating the bracelet--"I knew you'd recognize it +if you saw it again. That night I returned--and--" She paused, quite +evidently confused. "You'll surely think I--I--" + +"Go on," he said laconically. + +She averted her face, a flush upon her cheeks. + +"I listened outside a window and heard you tell Captain Manlove of your +orders from Delhi and that you were going to Benares. After that I +hurried away. As I was leaving the compound Captain Manlove came to the +door. I went back to the Dâk Bungalow and sat down and thought. Oh, I +thought a long while. Then I rode to the telegraph office and sent a +message to Alan, saying I was leaving for Benares. While I was there an +officer came in and I heard him tell the clerk that Captain Manlove had +been found"--she hesitated--"dead." + +The muscles of Trent's jaw tightened visibly as she pronounced the word. +Otherwise he was expressionless, still staring at the bracelet. Why +didn't he move or say something, she wondered? It was maddening, the way +he kept silence! + +"The picture of Captain Manlove," she resumed, "as I last saw him in +the doorway haunted me. I thought of a hundred things that might happen +if it were learned that I had gone to your bungalow just before--before +his death. So"--there was a bitter note in her voice--"so I left within +two hours, buying a ticket to Mughal Sarai instead of to Benares." + +For the first time he asked a question; but he did not raise his eyes. + +"You took the coral pendant from my room--there at Benares?" + +She nodded. "That piece of coral! It caused me hours of anxiety! The +afternoon you arrived I saw it in your hands while you were sitting on +the portico. It rather fired my imagination, although I didn't know its +significance then. After dinner, when you left the hotel, I tried to +follow, but I became hopelessly lost. I had a frightful time finding my +way back to the hotel. But I wasn't to be cheated; intrigue was burning +in me that night. I borrowed a skeleton key and sent my servant--a man I +had hired--to search your room and bring me the piece of coral. Of +course, when I found that it opened and that Chavigny's alias was +engraved inside, I knew I had a valuable clue. But my servant wasn't +able to return it, for when he went back there was a light in your +room.... I was in a dilemma. I didn't know what to do." + +"But why did you send him to my room in the first place--or follow me to +Benares?" he interrupted quietly. "Surely you knew I was on a Government +mission and that--I sha'n't mince words--that you were interfering with +affairs that didn't concern you." + +"Yes, I realize that," she confessed. "Oh, I admit I was wrong--but I +had entered the 'Caves of Kor' and the lure of them drew me on." + +"I don't mean to be unkind," he broke in, relenting. "I--" + +"You are simply telling the truth," she supplied. "I _shouldn't_ have +done it, but I deluded myself into believing I might recover the Pearl +Scarf and help Alan. I was selfish enough to want him to achieve at the +cost of another's failure. That was why I went on to Calcutta. I had no +idea where you were going, that next morning at Benares; that is, until +I saw a porter take your trunk from your room. Then I sent my servant to +find out where it was bound, and--I packed quickly and followed." + +"Then you tracked me to the Chinese quarter there, instead of--" He did +not finish. + +She knew that the truth would tarnish a memory, but she could not evade +it. She smiled wanly. + +"I have reached the 'Temple of Truth' in my 'Caves of Kor'! Yes, I +followed, with a guide. Alan had wired me the name of a man who he said +would serve me well--an old bearer of his. I waited all afternoon on the +upper porch of the hotel, and when you left I followed, with Guru Singh, +the bearer. We hired an automobile, instructing the driver to keep you +in sight. When you left your automobile, we left ours.... Oh, those +frightful places you led us through! Of course we were halted when you +went into that house in that dreadful street. + +"I determined then to make your acquaintance. Just before you came out I +sent Guru Singh away; then I deliberately threw myself upon your mercy. +But oh, I felt guilty! I realized that you didn't suspect it was all +deliberate and planned! + +"The next morning I made another desperate move. I _had_ to return that +piece of coral. Too, I wanted to learn your plans. I gave the pendant to +Guru Singh--with instructions. To insure him against discovery, I--I +asked you to go shopping with me. Guru Singh found a packet in your +trunk showing that you had a berth on the _Manchester_ to Rangoon, and +that from there you were going to Myitkyina, to the shop of Da-yak, a +Tibetan. But your servant happened along, and in the excitement Guru +Singh forgot to leave the coral. It seemed that I'd never rid myself of +it!" + +The sun was almost below the hills now. A gong in the nearby Shan +village rang clearly across the quiet evening. Both Trent and the girl +sat motionless, listening until it died out. + +"I wired Alan that I was going to Rangoon and would wait for him there," +she said, taking up the thread of her story. "I didn't send it until +just before I went to the boat, for I was afraid he might say no--and, +oh, I wanted to see my adventure through! + +"On shipboard Guru Singh at last succeeded in returning the coral--but +that inevitable servant of yours appeared. I was terrified when I +learned that Guru Singh had been caught! I felt responsible for it, and +afterward I carried food to him several times. That was what I was doing +the night I met you on deck. I was frightened, and I flung plate and all +overboard. Then.... But you know what occurred then. I had come to hate +myself for what I was doing, yet the thing was a Medusa. It held me and +I let it draw me on. + +"I met Guru Singh, by previous instructions, at the pagoda in Rangoon, +and we drove to Alan's bungalow--but only to leave part of my baggage, +and that night I took a train for Myitkyina with Guru Singh. When we got +there I realized the presence of a strange white woman would be noticed +in so small a place, so I instructed Guru Singh carefully and went back +to Mandalay to wait. + +"The second day in Mandalay I heard from Guru Singh. He wired for me to +come. When I arrived he told me he had found where the jewels were--also +that you had left Myitkyina. It seems that Da-yak was arrested"--here +the muscles of Trent's jaw tensed again--"and your servant, too. Guru +Singh said he bribed the jailer to let him see Da-yak, who, after he was +paid liberally, told where you had gone.... He said the jewels had been +taken to a city in Tibet: the name is Shingtse-lunpo. The sum of his +words is that this place is the penetralia of a band called the Order of +the Falcon, with a man known as the Falcon at its head. The Tibetan took +oath he didn't know the Falcon. At any rate, he said that to get there +one had to go first to a town across the China border--Tali-fang, he +called it--and that only three men in Myitkyina knew the route to +Tali-fang, one of whom had gone with your caravan and another with some +one else. The third was a Buddhist priest. Da-yak said there were +several ways of reaching Tali-fang and that you had been sent by the +longest. At Tali-fang one would have to depend upon his own resources to +get a guide to take him into Tibet, he said. That was all he would +tell--or rather, he said that was all he knew." + +"I don't suppose," Trent questioned, "he told who had him arrested?" Yet +Trent felt that he knew without asking who had arrested Da-yak and +Tambusami. + +"No," she replied. + +Trent nodded--more to himself than to her--and she went on. + +"That the jewels were in Tibet--vast, mysterious Tibet--both frightened +and fascinated me. To go where no white woman, had been--the land of +Marco Polo, Orazio della Penna and Huc! You can understand the lure of +it. Yet I think I must have been a little mad to have attempted it--but +we all are, aren't we? + +"Guru Singh--poor, dear Guru Singh!--tried to persuade me to turn back, +but I wouldn't. We went to the Buddhist priest. For an extortionate sum +he agreed to guide us to Tali-fang. So we outfitted a caravan, Guru +Singh, the monk and I, and two days after you left Myitkyina we took the +same trail. I went as a man; I thought it would excite less suspicion. +Before leaving, I wrote Alan. I waited until then because I knew he +would disapprove. + +"At several villages we learned that you had already passed; then, the +third afternoon, one of the porters, who was ahead, came back with the +news that your pack-train was about a mile in advance. We marched more +slowly after that. The nearness of another white person reassured me, +for--oh, before that it was terrible in those jungles and swamps! I +think the loneliness and the fright, after dark, would have driven me +mad had I not remembered what the converted Brahmin priest, who lectured +at home, said about the jungle. That comforted me. + +"Last--When was it? I can't remember now--but it was late afternoon and +I was sitting in front of my tent. The Buddhist priest passed. There was +something about him, the way he looked at that moment, that struck me +numb to the heart.... I realized what an impossible thing I was trying +to do; wondered what would happen if I reached Tali-fang and found I +couldn't go further. Yet--yet I _couldn't_ turn back. As I sat there, +thinking, a desperate plan unfolded.... I told Guru Singh. + +"The next afternoon, late, he and the priest and my porters left for +Myitkyina. Guru Singh stayed behind until--until I fired the +shot--and--and your muleteer brought you. I began to feel ill, suddenly. +I.... Well, that's all. I had intended to tell you that my porters +deserted--and other lies, too. I knew you wouldn't leave me; you +couldn't send me back, and you'd have to take me with you. But +after--after all you did--I couldn't falsify; I couldn't.... Now you +know the truth." + +She halted--halted and waited for him to speak. But he did not. His eyes +were still upon the bracelet, nor did he look up. The silence was long +and tense. Finally, unable to endure it longer, she moved her hand +tentatively; dropped it; raised it again and let it rest lightly upon +his sleeve. + +"You--you believe me--don't you?" she faltered. + +He drew a deep breath; lifted his head. + +"Yes," he said, looking across the river. "Yes, of course I believe you. +I'm only wondering what I'm going to do with you." + +He rose then and moved off rapidly toward the canebrake. + + +4 + +For over an hour Trent walked. When he returned to camp he found Dana +Charteris sitting where he had left her. Masein had made a fire, and the +leaping flames kindled a glow in the meshes of her red-gold hair. Eyes +dark with misery met his--moist eyes.... The cobra-bracelet glinted on +his wrist. + +"I was abrupt a while ago," he announced, halting before her, head +slightly lowered--as a man stands before a cathedral-image. "I am sorry. +I was worried. I shouldn't have left as I did, nor should I have stayed +away so long, but I wanted to be alone--to solve the problem. I think I +have." + +She smiled faintly. "Don't apologize, Arnold Trent. You've done enough +for me." She paused. "You must hate me," she pressed on after a moment. +"First I deceive you; then I fall sick and delay you; and when I +recover, I am a stone about your neck." She laughed a mirthless little +laugh. "What are you going to do with me?" + +He made a gesture. "You were right. I haven't a guide to send back with +you, and you can't go alone. The nearest Government post is +Kwanglu--that's at least a two-days' journey. I can't afford to delay +any longer. Yet if I take you with me and anything happens to you--" He +hesitated, then finished: "I'd never forgive myself. So what am I to +do?" + +She got up, and her eyes shone with the warmth of the fire. + +"I--I might be able to help you," she suggested rather timidly, as +though afraid he would scorn the idea. "I've hindered you so much that +the least I can do is to try to make amends. Oh, I realize what you're +thinking, that I am a woman and would only be a burden, but--" + +"No," he interrupted, "I wasn't thinking that--I was thinking of you. +God knows, from a selfish standpoint, I would be glad enough for your +companionship! But aside from the physical danger, there are other +things to reckon with. That's the trouble with people; they don't +consider the future. And if we come out of this alive, there's a future. +It's all right for me; but you--you're a woman. And the public doesn't +credit any man with honor, or any woman with self-respect, if they're +thrown together under other than conventional circumstances. Don't you +see what people will say when they learn of it? And they will learn of +it--and you can't ignore their opinions. They couldn't understand, damn +them; rather, they _wouldn't_.... You see?" Another pause, and he +repeated: "You see?" + +She nodded. "Yet I'm here"--helplessly. + +"Yet you're here," he echoed, with a gesture of futility. + +He strode away; turned back at a sudden thought. + +"Of course, there's one thing I've overlooked in my masculine egotism. +It just occurred to me that you--you might be afraid to go with me." + +"No," she interposed very quietly--and to him the world seemed to expand +to greater dimensions. "No. I am not afraid." That was all. Yet it +thrilled him. + +After a few seconds he resumed. + +"You must promise to do as I say; and without asking questions. I've +given my word, you know. Before we reach Tali-fang you'll have to be +fixed up like a Hindu. You can be my brother, or anything you like. I'll +teach you a few more Hindustani words--necessary words. You won't have +to talk much, if any. There will be hardships--many--but--" He furrowed +his hair. "There's no alternative." + +Then, glancing down at the bracelet, he took it off. + +"Here--" + +"Won't you keep it?" she asked. "I sent it with a plea for succor, and +you came. According to the custom, you are my bracelet-brother, sworn to +honor and protect. So won't you keep it, as Humayun, the Great Mogul, +kept the bracelet of Kurnavati, the Rani of Chitor?" + +For answer he slipped the golden circlet over his hand. The girl, with a +swift smile, turned and went into the tent. And, being a man, he could +not know it was for the express purpose of crying. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +CARAVAN + + +Ahead, above a sea of indigo poppies, rose the walls of Tali-fang. Blue +poppies rippled eastward and north to the foot of blue mountains (the +seamed, craggy wastes that bulwarked Tibet); rippled westward and south +until they melted into the blue haze of uncertain distance. Thus the +city, with its dun-colored walls, swam in the poppies like an island +against whose battlemented shore blue waves surged and tossed. + +The cavalcade that rode through the veritable tunnel under the ramparts +was hardly one to arouse suspicion in the mind of the blear-eyed +Yunnanese soldier who drowsed in the damp dismal shadow of this gateway +that was almost as ancient as China itself and under which at least one +fifth of the opium that finds its way mysteriously to the Coast, and +thence over the rim of the earth, had passed. To him it was merely a +string of burdened, tired-looking mules, four half-naked +savages--_yehjen_, as the Chinese call the hill-folk of Upper Burma--and +two swarthy, turbaned men that he could not immediately classify and was +too indolent, too saturated with drugs, to conjecture about. + +Tali-fang was small and sprawling. Flies swarmed over it, as over a +corpse, and the odor of it was very like that of the dead. Misty-eyed, +morbific beings--neither Trent nor Dana Charteris could call them +human--lounged in the doorways of filthy houses: Mossos, Loutses, +Chinese and Tibetans. City, inhabitants, all, seemed as old and +iniquitous as sin itself. + +After numerous inquiries they were directed to the _yamen_ of the +Tchentai, or military chief--a house with upcurling eaves, surrounded by +a wall. A soldier informed them that his Excellency Fong Wa, the +Tchentai, was at present indisposed, but if they would go to the inn he +would send for them at the proper time. + +The caravanserai was a mean, stinking place. If there was a +_khan_-keeper he was nowhere in evidence. The hovel was deserted. Late +in the afternoon two Mussulman soldiers appeared and told Trent that the +Tchentai would receive him, and with Masein in tow (he left Dana +Charteris, a slim, boyish figure, hair bound under a turban, sitting in +a dejected heap in the courtyard) he followed them to the _yamen_ of +Fong Wa. + +The mandarin was waiting in a court where orange-trees and pomegranates +dappled the ground with shadow. From the manner in which he greeted +Trent the latter suspected that the Chinaman knew he was white. His +green eyes--vicious, cunning eyes--looked out from beneath puffed lids. +As he talked a flat-breasted slattern attended him with a pipe and poppy +treacle. + +"I expected you many days before this," said his Excellency, through +Masein. "I trust you have not been ill." + +Trent replied that he had. After a few more courtesies, including gifts, +the yellow man presented Trent with a wrapped packet. + +"She who intrusted these papers into my keeping passed on the night of +the new moon." Then, concluding the interview, he added: "Certain +supplies and mules, together with a _makotou_ and three _mafus_, will be +sent to you some time to-morrow. You will then proceed as she directed." + +"I wish to leave immediately," Trent told him. "I am late now." + +"That is quite impossible," answered the mandarin, abruptly. "All is not +ready." + +"But if I was expected before this, then why aren't they ready?" + +The Tchentai was not pleased with that question. The green eyes +flickered. + +"It is enough that I say it is impossible," he replied curtly. "I am +military chief of Tali-fang. My word is law." + +Trent suspected that the Chinaman, knowing he was white, was +deliberately taking the opportunity to display his authority. He was +muscle-sore and brain-tired, and the prospect of spending the night in +this moribund city did not cheer him. With a slight movement he parted +his jacket; the oval of coral lay against his stained skin. + +"Tell his Excellency," he instructed Masein, noticing by Fong Wa's +expression that he saw the pendant, "that I demand the supplies and +pack-animals to-night, now; and if he refuses, I shall report it to one +whose authority reaches many miles beyond Tali-fang." + +Revolutions have been ignited by fewer and less veiled words than +those.... The Chinaman's eyes burned like chrysoprase, and for a moment +the Englishman thought he had lost. Then Fong Wa spoke and Masein +translated. + +"Your threats are useless, yet I will see what I can do." And Masein did +not put into English the _chu-kou_, or pig-dog, that his Excellency +added. + +Trent left the _yamen_ of the military chief in a very troubled state of +mind. He knew he had struck flint--knew also that despite Fong Wa's +evident fear of the "one whose authority reaches many miles beyond +Tali-fang," there were ways and means of diverting circumstance to his +cunning. For himself he had little fear; Dana Charteris was the source +of concern. + +A short distance away, one of the soldiers who had summoned Trent to the +mandarin's house approached and addressed him in very bad English. + +"_Tajen_," he began, "seven days ago a Buddhist priest passed this way +and left a message for you with Fong Wa. Because the Tchentai was angry, +he did not give it to you. For three _taels_ I will steal it and bring +it to you." + +Trent considered a moment before he said-- + +"When you deliver the message to me, I will give you three _taels_." + +This evidently satisfied the soldier, who grinned and hurried off toward +the mandarin's residence. + +"I think we'll leave Tali-fang to-night," Trent informed Dana Charteris +when he reached the _khan_. "It's the wisest move--for more than one +reason. Suppose you rest; we may have to ride into the night, or until +morning." + +The girl shook her head. "I am not tired." + +He saw that the town had tainted her--that she was struggling with one +of those rare moments when glamour tarnished and she was close to +surrender to her feelings. She had shown fine courage during the +journey, flexing herself to meet every circumstance. Pure metal was +behind those eyes. And it amazed him that she could meet the tests of +the wilds and lose none of the feminine. (A romanticist always, this +Trent, seeking in woman those elements that keep her in the vestal +niche.) At times the call of her vibrated through his every nerve--but +he had not forgot the circlet of gold. "Bracelet-brother." That he would +be until they returned to metaled roads and electric-tramways; then the +lover, with the lover's message to deliver.... + +"Don't trouble about me," she said. "When we get into the open spaces +again it will be different; there our lungs won't be poisoned." + +While Masein was cooking the evening meal the soldier who told of the +purloined message appeared and in exchange for three _taels_ pressed a +folded sheet of rice-paper into Trent's hand. By the firelight the +Englishman inspected it. It was written in Urdu and ran: + + They tell a tale of Chunda Ram, the juggler, who made two + cobras dance; of a mongoose that entered a lair and instead of + vipers found a fat-bellied spider; of a lioness that guarded + her whelps. You shall hear it--this tale of tales--from Rabsang + Lama, who has journeyed north, into the falcon's country. + +That was all--no signature. Trent read it and reread it. A fourth time +his eyes traveled over the cryptic lines before he mined their meaning. +Then he chuckled. Kerth--Kerth of many identities--was the lama who had +passed through Tali-fang seven days before, and it was he who arrested +Da-yak and Tambusami. The spider was Li Kwai Kung; the lioness the +British Empire. The message came as a rift in gloom. + +Perceiving the soldier who had brought the missive still standing close +by, he directed a questioning look at him. + +"I would speak with you alone, _Tajen_," he said. + +Trent started to rise, but Masein and the porters were not within +earshot and he decided otherwise. + +"Speak. This"--indicating the girl--"is my brother. What I know he +knows." + +Trent could have sworn that the soldier winked at him slyly as he said +"brother," but it was too dark to be sure. + +"_Tajen_, I came to warn you," he announced. "Fong Wa is not kindly +disposed since your visit. He will send the mules and supplies, because +he is a coward; but he has made it impossible for you to leave the city +to-night. All gates close at sunset, and he has issued an order that no +caravan pass in or out." + +Trent thought for some time before he spoke. Finally: + +"What reason has he to wish to prevent me from leaving to-night?" + +The soldier shrugged. + +"_Ma-chai_," he replied--which is the superlative of indifference. + +That the Oriental had some ulterior motive Trent did not doubt for an +instant. In a land where three thousand years of intrigue has bred a +suspicious people, a kindly act is not the best symptom. He did not +waste words, but asked: + +"Why do you tell me this?" + +Another shrug. "I am _houi-houi_," he explained, that is to say, a +Chinese Mussulman. "Fong Wa is a Lamaist dog. He is a leech that sucks +blood from the people. They hate him. He never pays the soldiers and +many are deserting to go down the Yangtze, where a war is brewing." + +Trent kept silent, waiting to hear the purpose behind this introductory +talk. The soldier was a reckless-looking fellow. The edge of his scant +turban touched eyes that gleamed with a light inherited from a +succession of robber-ancestors. An amiable young villain, he imagined. + +"My name is Kee Meng," the Oriental volunteered. "My father was Tibetan, +my mother Mosso. But I am Yunnanese. Oh, I have traveled much! +Chung-king--even Hankow! I was _makotou_ for an English _Tajenho_ who +went from Liangchowfu to Urga. See,"--he drew a piece of paper from +under his jacket--"this is a letter he wrote saying I was a very fine +_makotou_--only he called me _bashi_--the very best in China. Read it, +_Tajen_." + +Trent took the paper; glanced over it; waited. + +"I will tell you something else, _Tajen_," Kee Meng continued. "Your +_makotou_ and _mafus_ are spies. She who passed on the night of the new +moon told them to watch you and report to her at Shingtse-lunpo. I heard +her. They are dogs and thieves, those muleteers." Then he bent closer, +as though afraid he would be overheard. "_Tajen_, I know the road to +Shingtse-lunpo--I and my three friends. We have been there often to +deliver messages from Fong Wa to the Grand Lama. Fong Wa is a tool of +the lamas. He is a fool. We are tired of Tali-fang, my friends and I. We +will serve you well. We are cheap. Only twenty _taels_ a month. And +look, _Tajen_." + +He turned and called a word, and three blue-jacketed, turbaned soldiers, +each as reckless-looking as Kee Meng, entered and saluted Trent. + +"See? Are they not fine muleteers?" + +Instead of answering, Trent asked a question: + +"What else do you know of her who passed on the night of the new +moon--and a certain bird that roosts in Tibet?" + +"She who passed on the night of the new moon?" the Oriental echoed. "Of +her I know nothing, except that she would spy upon the _Tajen_, who, +according to what she told Fong Wa, is _Tajenho_ in his country. And +the bird--" He looked genuinely puzzled. "There are many birds in +Tibet--kites and vultures! There are yaks, too, if the _Tajen_ wishes to +shoot." + +Satisfied on that score, Trent went on: + +"But what of my muleteers? I can't dismiss them. And if it's impossible +to leave the city to-night--" + +"_Tajen_," Kee Meng broke in, "I know a way. Only speak the word and +your four muleteers will disappear--like that!" And he made a gesture. +"Then we, my friends and I, will lead you out of Tali-fang to-night; and +Fong Wa will not know until it is too late. Once we are beyond the +Yolon-noi, he has no power over us. He is Tchentai of only this +district. By riding all night we would be in Tibet before sunrise--and +there--" He made another gesture. + +"How do I know you're telling the truth?" queried Trent, putting forth a +feeler. A plan was shaping in his mind. He did not look at Dana +Charteris, but he felt her eyes upon him, felt, too, that she read his +thoughts. + +"By Allah!" declared the Mussulman (and a Mussulman's oath to his God is +not so flexible as that of a Buddhist or a Christian). "May I wither and +turn black if I lie!" + +"What of my muleteers?" Trent pursued. + +Kee Meng winked. "Ah, that is easy!" + +"You wouldn't--" + +"Oh no, _Tajen_! We will not kill them!" the soldier exclaimed +virtuously--but he smiled. "There is an unused house near the North +Gate, and under the house is a cellar where opium is stored. We will +hide them there, and they will not be found until morning." + +"But how will we get out of the city?" Trent interrogated. + +"Give me five _taels_ and I will fix it. Mo-su, who guards the North +Gate, is a poor man and a fool. Oh, it is easy if one is clever, as I +am! Your mules and supplies are at the Tchentai's; to reach here they +must pass through dark streets. We are strong.... Then we can take your +caravan to the North Gate, while one of us returns for you. We each have +a mule. Oh yes, it will be easy, _Tajen_!" + +Trent knew Kee Meng's type. "He who would ride a wild camel must first +teach him who is master," says a proverb. These villainous-looking young +brigands could fight--if the proper inducement were provided. It would +be reassuring to know he had allies, few though they were. As for +Sarojini Nanjee--"Set a spy on the heels of a spy," runs another +proverb. It was not breaking his word to her; there was nothing in the +agreement to prevent him from exchanging caravan-men.... Too, he would +feel safer beyond the reach of Fong Wa. He did not like those green +eyes. Yet it was a desperate risk. + +"What do you know of this city, this Shingtse-lunpo?" + +"I know that there are many lamas there, _Tajen_--oh, many, like the +blades of grass! There is a monastery called Lhakang-gompa, whose roofs +are gold and whose walls are as white as the sky at midday! The holy +city of Lhassa is an open book beside it. Soldiers of the Golden Army +guard every approach. There dwells the High Lama of all lamas." + +Trent credited the "roofs of gold" to the elasticity of the native mind. + +"That is strange," he commented, baiting the Mussulman. "If it is so +great a city, then why do not the English, who sent an army to Lhassa +and routed the Dalai Lama, know of it? White men have been in Tibet. If +there is such a city, why has no one heard of it?" + +Kee Meng shrugged. + +"White men have been in Tibet, yes--but not in _that_ part.... Tibet has +its secrets, _Tajen_; she guards them well. My father, who was a +Tibetan, said so." + +After a pause Trent went on: + +"There's nothing to prevent you or your comrades from deserting me when +we get under way. What assurance have I?" + +"We swear by Allah to go with you to Shingtse-lunpo," said Kee Meng, +"and from there wherever you wish to travel--so long as we receive +twenty _taels_ a month and half of the first month's pay in advance +now!" + +Accordingly, Kee Meng's comrades took oath. + +"And obey me," Trent added. + +"And obey you," the Mussulmen repeated. + +Trent reached under his jacket, where his money-belt was concealed, and +counted out twenty-five _taels_. + +"Five for the guard at the gate," he explained, "and five apiece for the +four of you. When we leave Tali-fang you will each receive the other +five agreed upon." + +"_Cheulo!_" agreed Kee Meng. Then he let his eyes rove over the packs +and mules. "Have everything ready in an hour. Fong Wa expects you to try +to leave to-night, so we will take your guides and mules to the gate and +there transfer the packs to the fresh mules, sending back the men and +old mules. If Fong Wa is watching, he will see them and believe you are +returning to the inn. He will be very angry to-morrow, but he will not +dare touch your porters, for they are _yehjen_. Remember--in an hour." + +The villainous-looking quartet quitted the courtyard, and Trent, +watching them go, wondered if he had acted wisely. + +"Your bodyguards when we reach Shingtse-lunpo," he said, turning to Dana +Charteris and smiling slightly; then, glancing at the rice-paper in his +hand, he added: "From Euan Kerth.... He's on the way to the Falcon's +city, as a lama." + + +2 + +At the appointed time Kee Meng returned. + +"All is well, _Tajen_," he told Trent. "My friends are waiting at the +gate, with the caravan." + +The small pack-train was assembled, and they left the inn. Kee Meng +walked beside Trent. The Englishman let one hand rest upon the revolver +strapped to his thigh; the girl riding at his side nervously fingered a +corrugated butt. The streets were dim and for the most part deserted. +Now and then doors opened and eyes peered out, invisible but felt. +Tali-fang lay in a sepulchral hush, its quiet only emphasized by +jingling harness-chains and the dull, muffled beat of hoofs. + +Trent's breathing quickened as they approached the walls. The tunnel +leading to the gate yawned cavernously. In its gloom the pale eye of a +lantern wavered. A mule brayed hideously as they rode into the foul +artery. By the faint rays of the lantern Trent saw mules and ponies, +packs and bulging saddle-bags; saw Kee Meng's villainous-looking +comrades and a gaunt individual whom he imagined was the gateman. Kee +Meng pressed him forward between the ill-smelling beasts. Dana Charteris +was by his side. They dismounted. + +There was a rasping sound and the ponderous gates swung apart. Starlight +gleamed upon spiked panels. Framed in the archway were mountains and +sky--dark loam smeared upon the firmament. A breath of clean air +penetrated into the tunnel. + +"_Tajen_, you and your brother get into the saddles," whispered Kee +Meng. "I will tell your men to wait a few minutes before they go back to +the inn." + +Mule-harness rattled. One of the men uttered a sharp command, and a +protesting quadruped moved through the gateway--another behind it. The +mules were strung together, led by a man on foot. More jingling of +harness; the soft _pad-pad_ of hoofs. + +Dana Charteris was trembling as Trent helped her upon her mount. The +pony's coat was sleek and moist under his touch. He swung into his own +saddle.... The gates closed behind him. A figure that looked like Kee +Meng led the girl's pony forward, after the file of mules. + +They were again in the clean temple of the open spaces. + +... Tali-fang fell away in the rear--a pale blot on the dim shivering +mass of the poppy-fields. They skirted a hamlet not far from the city's +walls. Dogs snarled; once more doors opened.... The ground sloped ever +upward, and from shadowy forests came the healing smell of pines. A +buttressed range impended, its peaks virgin with snow--rugged mountains +where in places the sides were sheer and rose to shuddersome heights. +Toward this mighty chaos of rock--vomit of some earth-ailment--the road +plunged. + +Thus began the Yolon-noi Pass. + +Loose stones rattled under the feet of the animals, and a wind, chilled +in the cisterns of the night, swept down the cañon, shaking the scraggly +growths and animating the shadows. The pass had narrowed to a mere rift +where not more than four men could ride abreast. It seemed a place of +shrieking demons when a mule brayed, for the wind snatched up the sound +and carried it from boulder to boulder, until it perished in a weird +echo upon the serrated ridges. + +Just before midnight the moon rose and sent the gloom scurrying, and +jackals laughed as though to mock the terrors that a moment ago seemed +so real. Moonlight shone on scintillant rock; the loftiest, snow-capped +peaks gleamed like palest nacre.... Trent rode beside Dana Charteris. +The caravan-men and the pack-animals were ahead, moving with a slow, +uneven rhythm, the long line of laden beasts casting distorted shadows +upon the road. + +"O Arnold Trent, I could cry for sheer joy!" whispered the girl. "Can't +you feel the night singing in your veins? Tibet! To think I should ever +reach it!" + +Trent's throat tightened, and the wind sang one word--_Tibet! +Tibet!_--over and over in his ears. He rode on, so flooded with awe, +with an overwhelming sense of majesty, that it was impossible to speak. +Presently the girl, obeying an impulse, tore off her turban. Her hair +tumbled over her shoulders, and the wind caught truant strands and made +sport of them. + +Through the night they traveled; traveled until the high walls broke up +into lower ridges and ravines; until the moon rolled over the peaks and +into oblivion, and the stars passed, as tapers that grow dim and die. +The gorge opened its mouth into a valley that lay between green, +snow-tipped mountains. With dawn they came to a halt, and the muleteers +set up the shelters. The girl, tired from the long ride, fell asleep +almost instantly, but Trent sat in front of his tent for nearly an hour, +smoking and gazing into the haze of ruddy gold that hid the City of the +Falcon. + + +3 + +Looking back upon the journey to Shingtse-lunpo, Trent saw it in a +series of pictures--the days painted with vivid, glaring pigments, the +nights pasteled in blended hues. It was not the Tibet of his +imagination, the Tibet of drear, waterless stretches shut in by +bastioned mountains, unscalable, snow-helmeted guards. True, for two +days after the passing of the Chino-Tibetan divide and the Mekong (they +were swung across this great river, at a giddy height, on a rope bridge) +bleak ranges lifted themselves in heaps of purple and dun, crowned with +flame as the sun gilded their snowy ramparts; but after that the ground +was mildly undulating--nullahs and hills and thin forests. + +The fourth day marked their entrance into a country of little +vegetation, a world of dull tints--those lifeless shades of brown found +in a camel's coat. The earth was sterile; even the sky seemed +unyielding, an aching womb of light. Fine dust settled upon the body and +in the nostrils and throat. + +Of people they saw comparatively little. The villages generally +consisted of a huddle of houses close to a spur of ground, upon the +highest point of which a lamasery perched, like a _lämmergier_ hovering +over mulch and decay. The lamas, Trent learned, were of the Yellow Cap +Order--a sullen, suspicious lot. + +Trent tried, whenever it was practicable, to avoid human beings; he was +not so much afraid of the penetrability of his own disguise as that of +the girl. The caravans they encountered now and then--strings of men and +mules and yaks--were a constant dread to him; not the Tibetans (they +were a careless, friendly type, these men and women of Kham), but the +priests who usually accompanied them. In every instance the lamas +inquired through Kee Meng the destination of the pack-train. + +The wind was usually chilling, except at midday when the earth quivered +behind a brassy curtain of mirage and the glare of sunlight on +quartz-like rocks was blinding. Sunset--a phenomenon of Tibet--was a +source of never-ending wonder to both Trent and Dana Charteris. It +flared in five distinct bars, like a crimson aurora, and died away when +dusk swept a mauve brush across the west. Nightfall brought bitter +winds. Stars glittered coldly, points of whitest flame; and when the +moon came out it glistened like an icy planet reeling through space. + +Trent grew to trust Kee Meng and his comrades--to a degree. It was a +common occurrence for him to catch one or the other stealing from the +provisions, and more than once he discovered gold and turquoise +ornaments filched from a temple in some village where they remained +overnight. Twice Trent's electric pocket-lamp disappeared, only to be +found each time among the possessions of Kee Meng, who burned with a +steady passion to own it. Trent maintained rigid discipline over his +quartet of genial young brigands, who would have been impossible to rule +otherwise; and whereas they learned he was master of the caravan and to +be obeyed at all times, he could not tear down the walls of instinct +which generations of _hung-hu-tzee_ ancestors had fixed so immovably in +them. + +... The journey wove into a tapestry of monotonous colors stretching +over a loom of many days, and through it all, like a silver thread, ran +his association with Dana Charteris. His every chord of feeling +responded to the age-old symphony of a woman unfolding to a man (the +glorious hymn of the universe).... He knew there were times, after he +had wrapped himself in his blanket for the night, that she wept from +sheer exhaustion, tortured physically by the hard travel and mentally by +the ever-present portent of danger which the very atmosphere seemed to +speak. But not once did he see evidence of it, nor did she complain. +After a day of riding, himself sweaty and caked with dust, his every +sinew strained to the utmost, the moral effect of her presence was a +narcotic. + +Despite the discomforts and the uncertainty of what lay ahead, something +serene came to him out of the silence. He saw it in the girl's eyes, +too--this intangible thing that the far spaces breed in the hearts of +men and that lies slumbering until they have returned to civilization, +where, in the midst of crowded, suffocating cities, it awakens suddenly, +drawing them back to the trackless wastes they once had hated and +cursed. The intense light on the hills; the glow of firelight in the +dusk; the cry of a wolf wavering through the night--they were the small +incidents that would cling to the memory and, later, seem the salient +features of a weird, fascinating scroll of recollections. + + * * * * * + +Green-roofed temples and whitewashed lamaseries daily became more +numerous. They squatted on every eminence and were habited by +crimson-togaed monks--hundreds of men and boys who rattled +prayer-wheels and muttered "_Om mani Padme hums_" before greasy idols. +The presence of women in those lamaist communities ceased to be a +novelty; rather, a question. They were not unlovely, in their loose +garments and turquoise-studded bandeaus, but their instinctive hostility +toward any form of ablution disqualified them from meeting Western +standards of beauty. + +Thus the journey wore on, and thus, on the evening of the seventh day, +they camped on the edge of a marshy lake, within view of scarped hills +behind which Shingtse-lunpo, the mysterious, lay. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CITY OF THE FALCON + + +Dawn gave birth to a day that for Trent and Dana Charteris was +surcharged with expectancy and apprehension. Ridges broke up the +horizon, hiding the country beyond, as though fate and nature had +conspired to preclude until the last moment a view of Shingtse-lunpo. +Before another night they should be within the walls of the city. + +Just before noon they rode over a crest and saw a high _tchorten_, or +rock pyramid. Yak-hair tents were pitched at its base, and a band of +men, mounted on white ponies and carrying yellow-pennoned lances, +clattered across the valley to meet them. + +"They are soldiers of the Golden Army," Kee Meng announced. + +As the horsemen drew nearer, Trent could see that they wore +neutral-colored tunics and black leather caps, the latter having a strap +under the chin and a golden, flame-shaped ornament attached to the top. +Gold-hilted swords glittered in black belts, and several of the men +carried queer, ancient-looking guns embossed with turquoise and coral. +They came up in a cloud of dust, like figures riding out of history, and +the leader stuck out his tongue by way of greeting. He examined their +passports and assigned two soldiers--"to accompany us to Amber Bridge," +Kee Meng explained. + +With their escort they rode on toward the heat-twisted, quivering +horizon that, in its very illusiveness, symbolized the uncertainty that +filled both Trent and the girl. Neither spoke, but sat erect on their +mounts, staring steadily, until their eyes ached, into the white +sunlight. + +The hot midday was waning when they reached the top of a shoulder of +ground and looked upon the city. At first it was a long white blur upon +the distant ranges, separated from the plain that surrounded it by a +belt of green; then it assumed shape and form, and they saw it, walls +and golden roofs, floating like a fabulous Atlantis in the liquid +sunlight. A white bulk, seeming the extravagant creation of a mirage, +towered above the walls. Gradually it emerged from the deceptive +heat-waves and stood out, defined, a massive building, dominating the +crenellated heap of masonry at its feet. The city's ramparts were high, +yielding only a glimpse of roof-tops and the buttressed structure that +was silhouetted in blinding white upon the aquamarine sky. + +"The great building," said Kee Meng, "is Lhakang-gompa, of which I told +you--the palace and temple of the Grand Lama." + +As they rode nearer, passing barley fields and isolated groups of +houses, it became evident that the belt of green encircling +Shingtse-lunpo was a marsh. Apparently an outer fortification at one +time stood in the swamp, for piles of broken stone reared themselves at +intervals from the rush-encumbered quagmires, like the bones of a +half-buried and bleaching skeleton. On the edge of the morass, flung +across a stream, was a bridge; a stone causeway, perhaps a mile in +length, linked it with what Trent imagined was the main gate of the city +proper. The bridge itself--"Amber Bridge," Kee Meng had called it--was +of mellowed stone, its enclosing walls supporting a roof glazed with +tiles and inset with great lumps of raw amber. Prayer-flags drooped from +the top. + +Thus Shingtse-lunpo, the City of the Falcon, revealed herself to them +for the first time, like an orient dream-city in the golden noonday. + +As they approached Amber Bridge, two familiar lines sprang into Trent's +mind and repeated themselves over and over: + + With gilded gates and sunny spires ablaze, + And burnished domes half seen through luminous haze. + +In the silence, sovereign but for the footfalls of the animals and the +creak of sweaty saddles, he heard the swift breathing of the girl who +rode at his side--saw the wonderment, the expression of fascination, of +awe, that reflected in her face. Brown eyes were deep with mystery. + +At the bridge they were halted by more leather-helmeted guards who, +after glancing at their passports, held a short conversation with the +two soldiers from the outpost, then explained, through the usual channel +of translation, that Trent's caravan would have to remain at Amber +Bridge until the news of their arrival was communicated to "certain +authorities" in the city. + +A soldier dashed off along the causeway, while Trent, vaguely troubled, +allowed his pony to be led into a mud-walled compound at one side of the +road. There he and the other members of the caravan dismounted, and +there they waited, somewhat apprehensive, for over an hour. + +When the messenger returned he was accompanied by a small cortège, all +soldiers but one, who, from his dress, was a dignitary of the city. He +rode a white horse and wore a robe of orange-yellow brocaded silk, its +wide sleeves faced with peacock-blue. A mushroom-shaped hat surmounted +copper-hued Tibetan features. He greeted Trent very graciously in +English and informed him that he was Na-chung, a member of the Higher +Council, that meaning, he explained, those who assisted the Governor. He +said that no doubt it was surprising to hear him speak English, but that +he had learned it from a British officer at Gyangtse, at the time of the +expedition to Lhassa.... His Transparency the Governor, he stated, had +been expecting him for several days and his delay had caused his +Transparency no small concern. Then he looked over Trent's men--and when +his eyes reached Dana Charteris they halted. It was, for Trent, a +breathless moment. But Na-chung smiled amiably and said: + +"I understood there were to be only _four_ caravaneers. You have +_five_." + +Trent replied that none of the four assigned to him at Tali-fang spoke +Tibetan--and how could he travel in Tibet without an interpreter? +Therefore, he had presumed to add another to his caravan.... + +Na-chung continued to smile. "I see," he commented. "And this is the one +you added?"--with a gesture toward the girl. + +"No," returned Trent. "This one"--indicating Kee Meng. + +"I see," repeated Na-chung. "We shall go into the city now, to the house +which the Governor has provided for you." + +The incident at Amber Bridge had a depressing effect upon Trent and he +scarcely heard the inconsequential talk of Na-chung as they moved slowly +over the causeway toward the ramparts of Shingtse-lunpo. But when they +passed the gates--formidable, iron-studded affairs, with turrets at +either side--his fears were temporarily thrust into the background. For +the walls of Shingtse-lunpo only hinted at what they enclosed. + +Beyond the main town, which sloped down into a depression and was a +wilderness of narrow streets and dazzling whitewashed houses (some +roofed with blue tiles, others with burnished gold), the ground rose to +the one dominating structure--the Lamasery that stood, sheer-walled, +upon sharply truncated rocks. Its massive bulk--longer than two city +blocks, Trent hazarded--was pierced by row upon row of windows that +seemed no larger than loopholes, and naked walls fell away from torn +roofs and terrace-like additions. There were other large buildings and +tiers of houses, the doors of the upper rows opening upon the roofs of +those below, but they cowered beneath the regal mass of Lhakang-gompa, +an architectural masterpiece that rose at least two hundred feet from +its natural foundations and which Trent could compare only with the +descriptions he had heard of the Potala at Lhassa. + +From the main gate the road cleaved between brick-walled enclosures and +hedges of bamboo. Beggars, ragged, repulsive-looking creatures, whined +at the roadside, and dogs and swine nosed in the black, bubbling mud of +the gutters. Blenching human bones lay beside discolored slabs of stone, +and mailed dragonflies, drawn by the smell of carrion flesh, hovered +near.[1] + +[Footnote 1: In Tibet it is the custom to deliver the dead to a sect of +professional body-hackers, who, in turn, feed the remains to the dogs +and vultures. Thus merit is acquired by the family of the deceased.] + +From this filthy quarter they passed over another bridge and into a +highway that lay in the shadows of fortress-like buildings. It was +crowded with tonsured, magenta-robed priests. Mounted soldiers, the +majority in neutral-tinted tunics, but some few wearing royal-blue and +apricot-hued uniforms, threaded across the crimson swarm in a human +shuttle, while men and women in less gaudy apparel moved inconspicuously +through the throng. Yak-hair curtains and prayer-flags drooped from the +windows of houses. + +"You arrived at a time of celebration," said Na-chung. "The Feast of the +Sacred Dance began yesterday. To-day the races were held on the Field of +Ceremonies, and to-morrow will be celebrated by the Dance of the Gods, +wrestling-bouts and the archery contest." + +Na-chung proved most voluble. He talked on as they forsook the crowded +street for a quarter close to the lamasery. The soldiers, who were +leading, opened a gate in a high white wall, and the caravan moved into +a flagged court. + +The dwelling was typical of the better Tibetan residences, low and +flat-roofed, and in the shape of a quadrangle. To the left, beyond a +huddle of out-houses, was a garden. Willow-thorn, clematis +and--hollyhocks! The scarlet flowers, pure flame in the sunlight, gave +something of warming welcome to Trent. + +Na-chung led the way into the house. The main hall was dank, like an +empty cistern, and lighted by an opening in the ceiling, which served a +twofold purpose in that it was also a means of reaching the upper floor. +There were little or no furnishings, and narrow passages, black with +gloom, led off from it. + +"It would be advisable," said Na-chung as he prepared to leave, "that +you do not leave your courtyard; that is, until you have been provided +with proper garments. I shall acquaint his Transparency with your +presence, and in the morning one will be sent to"--the councillor +smiled--"to remove your beard and clothe you as befits a member of the +Higher Council. To-morrow I shall return and accompany you to the Court +of Ceremonies, after which his Transparency will no doubt receive you." +Then, following a pause, "It has been deemed advisable to elevate you to +membership in the Higher Council--for appearances only, as your duties +will be quite different from those of a councillor." + +He took his leave then, and Trent accompanied him into the court. He +observed that Na-chung left two leather-helmeted soldiers at the gate, +whether to act as bodyguards, or to see that he did not leave the +grounds, he could only surmise. + + +2 + +Trent and Dana Charteris made a thorough inspection of the house. The +rooms were clean, as clean as Tibetan rooms ever are; but the lack of +proper ventilation and the ever-present stale-sweet odors did little to +invite occupancy. From the roof the monastery and a portion of the town +could be seen, and there, in a space protected by the high masonry that +enclosed the housetop, the girl decided to quarter herself, while Trent +chose the room directly beneath. + +Before sundown, while Dana Charteris was overseeing the transportation +of her packs to her elevated abode, Trent sought Kee Meng and found him +in the quadrangle. + +"I am going to place my brother in your charge," he announced. "I will +probably be away from him much of the time, and if anything happens to +him--" He chose to leave the sentence unfinished. (Trent always spoke of +the girl as his "brother," although it was tacitly understood that Kee +Meng knew she was not a man.) + +"_Cheulo!_" responded the Mussulman. "Henceforth, instead of _makotou_, +I am Protector-of-the-Brother!" + +"And furthermore," Trent added, "I forbid you, or any of the men, to +leave the grounds without my permission." + +Later (dusk had swooned on Shingtse-lunpo), as Trent entered the main +hall, which was unlighted except for a brass butter-lamp, he beheld a +naked brown ankle and the bottom of a red robe as they vanished into one +of the several black cavities opening upon the chamber. He stopped--then +quickly backing to one side, against the wall, he drew his revolver and +edged toward the passageway. When he was yet a few feet away a round, +blue muzzle leaped out to meet him. As he recoiled, the owner of the +ankle and robe, a lama with a very modern automatic gripped in one slim +hand, stepped out. They stood motionless for a space of seconds, each +with weapon lifted. Then a familiar satanic smile traced itself upon the +yellow countenance--a smile that made the lama look Mephistophelian, +despite his shorn head and hairless features. + +"Kerth"--as Trent lowered his revolver, smiling. "Always at +pistol-point...." + +"I was beginning to feel uneasy about you," said Euan Kerth, as their +hands met. "It was a relief when I saw your pack-train ride in to-day. +Where can we go to talk--the garden? I came that way." + +They left the house by a black-dark corridor, making their way into the +grove of willow-thorn. Bright stars peered down through the branches, +and the moon, floating above the white wall, reflected a faint, hazy +light among the shadowy trees. + +"I'd almost given you up," Kerth began, halting in the gloom beside the +wall. "You were due over a week ago." + +Trent had been debating with himself since the meeting in the house. Now +he spoke; told Kerth of Dana Charteris; of the meeting in Calcutta and +the subsequent happenings. Kerth saw a story within a story and surmised +certain things that Trent omitted. He was silent for a while after the +latter finished. + +"It complicates matters, of course," he ventured discreetly, at length, +"yet ... hmm ... no, you had no alternative. She had nerve, all right; +how many women would have dared to do that? Damn these meddling police +agents! If it hadn't been for her brother.... Hmm--and he had the Pearl +Scarf!" A pause. "D'ye think Sarojini knows of her presence?" + +"Miss Charteris? How could she?" Then Trent explained how he had +exchanged muleteers at Tali-fang. + +"Good!" exclaimed Kerth. "Good! That's a score against Sarojini. She'll +raise thundering hell when she learns of it, but I think you can tame +her--yes, you can do it." + +"But tell me what happened at Myitkyina"--this from Trent. + +The other shrugged. "Oh, nothing much. I had suspected we were headed +for Tibet since I learned the character of the god on the symbol of the +Order--yet this"--he made a gesture intended to include the city--"well, +this is a bit beyond my imagination." + +Briefly he then sketched his activities at Myitkyina. + +"I followed you and Da-yak to the river that night, then downstream in +another boat. After you had landed, and your servant, Tambusami, in +another boat, I swam ashore. There was one fellow waiting with the +boats, so I slipped up behind him.... After that it wasn't difficult. I +exchanged clothing with him and waited. Sarojini Nanjee, dressed as a +Kachin, returned in a few minutes, and with her, Da-yak, Tambusami and +the boatmen. She and the Kachins took one of the craft downstream, I +suppose to her camp, and Da-yak and your bearer got into the other +boat--the boat where I was waiting. I'd sent a note to Warburton, the C. +O. at Myitkyina, and he was waiting at the landing with several Gurkhas. +We didn't have any trouble arresting them; the trouble came when we +tried to force them to speak. All summed up, what they said was +surprisingly little. Tambusami declared he was simply a servant and knew +nothing about the Order, except that it existed. But Da-yak told where +you had gone, and said there were three men in Myitkyina who knew the +trail to Tali-fang. One of them I later hired. Da-yak said that up until +a year ago he had a shop in the bazaar at Shingtse-lunpo, which he +described as 'a great city where many lamas live'; that he was commanded +by a Grand Lama to go to Myitkyina and establish a business. He was +instructed to obey all who came to him with a certain symbol--the symbol +of the Order. He swore he knew nothing of the Falcon or the jewels." + +Kerth paused; peered into Trent's face; smiled. + +"You're thinking just as I wish you to think," he observed; then went +on: "Meanwhile, I'd reported the place in Calcutta and it had been +raided. What happened I don't know. I was ready to start for +Shingtse-lunpo the day after you left, but of course Delhi waited a +couple of days to telegraph permission--and I was glad enough to get it +then, for I was half afraid the Viceroy would refuse to let me go into +Tibet. At Tali-fang I learned you hadn't passed and I left a +message--you received it?... Eighteen days later I was inside the walls +of Shingtse-lunpo--and paying homage to his Holiness Sâkya-mûni, the +Buddha reincarnated." + +"You mean," Trent interrogated, "there's a lama here who's supposed to +be a reincarnation of Buddha?" + +Kerth nodded. "That's his palace"--indicating Lhakang-gompa. "Oh, we've +stumbled into a jolly little nest! It'll take your breath when I tell +you everything. This--Shingtse-lunpo--is everything that Lhassa was, and +a hundred things that Lhassa never could be, with Lhassa's secretiveness +and holiness intensified to the nth degree. It's the--well, I suppose +one might call it the secret capital of the Lamaist hierarchy. From all +I can learn, it hasn't always had the great significance and power that +it has now; until a few years ago it was simply the home of a Grand Lama +who ranked with the Tarnath Lama. Nobody knew of it, because explorers +haven't covered this part of Tibet; the nearest anybody ever came to +this particular strip of territory was some time ago when a naturalist +made his way into Kham, and again, later, when an American doctor went +to a place called Chiamdo.... They say the Dalai Lama actually hid here, +in Lhakang-gompa (which, incidentally, is a facsimile of the Potala at +Lhassa, which I saw with the Mission) before he went to Urga. But that's +monkish gossip.... At any rate, here's how I interpret affairs from all +I've heard: + +"After the Mission was sent to Lhassa the Dalai Lama lost a certain +amount of prestige. The authority of the Tashi Lama, as you probably +know, is more spiritual than temporal. Englishmen had been to Lhassa and +to Tashi-lunpo; therefore, both of their holy-of-holies had been +profaned. The lamas--that is, the hierarchy--were losing their hold on +the people. All that was before nineteen-twelve. Then the President of +China restored Tubdan Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, to Lhassa. But even that +failed to revive the old zeal. So a _coup d'état_ was planned. A Grand +Lama had a made-to-order vision in which he saw the soul of Gaudama +Siddartha descend into the body of one of the abbots. From that moment +the abbot was Sâkya-mûni, Buddha reincarnated, and they installed him in +Lhakang-gompa, here in Shingtse-lunpo, the secret city _par excellence_ +of Tibet. Lhassa and the Dalai Lama became figureheads--'to fool the +British,' as one priest put it to me. The monasteries of Sera, Debung +and Gaden, hotbeds of political intrigue in the time of the Dalai Lama +and the Buriat, Dorjieff, were no longer powerful, but subservient to +Lhakang-gompa. I understand the Tashi Lama objected to all this, but the +Yellow Caps over-ruled him.... So now Sâkya-mûni, with the Lamaist +hierarchy behind him, is supreme pontiff of the Church--and +Lhakang-gompa is the Vatican, as it were, from which he rules Tibet and +practically all of Mongolia, with certain _sub rosa_ wires that give him +power in Nepal, Sikkhim, Bhutan and parts of China." + +Trent was staring up through the branches at the stars, but as Kerth +stopped he looked down and asked: + +"Didn't you say you had an audience with him?" + +Kerth's shaven skull nodded. "Yes. The Living Buddha wears a veil at all +ceremonies--too holy for mortal eyes, I fancy. Of course the Grand Lamas +have seen his face, but in the presence of the laity he is always +veiled. I attended what might be called pontifical mass. In company with +a number of pilgrim priests--at Shingtse-lunpo for the Feast of the +Sacred Dance--I was conducted through a veritable labyrinth in the +monastery and to a huge cathedral-like place. Sâkya-mûni, in yellow +robes and with a golden veil over his face, sat on a throne at one end. +Many cardinals and high officials were there, including the Great +Magician of Shingtse-lunpo. After the ceremony the Living Buddha +murmured something about '_Om, Ah, Hum_' and blessed a lot of red +scarves, or _katags_ as they're called, and distributed them among the +pilgrim priests. Then we left." + +In the pause that followed Trent inserted: + +"What of the jewels?" + +Another shrug from Kerth. "If they're in Shingtse-lunpo, they are well +hidden and their presence isn't widely known." + +"Yet--" But Trent checked himself. + +"Yet Sarojini Nanjee said they were here," Kerth finished up. "I know +it. The fact that I haven't learned anything about them doesn't mean +they aren't here." + +"And you haven't seen Sarojini?" + +"If I did, it was without my knowledge." + +"Or--Chavigny?" + +Kerth laughed quietly. "If I didn't _know_ he existed, I'd believe him a +myth. No, I haven't seen Chavigny, nor heard of him, for that matter, +since I entered the city. But that's not queer, for if he were here he +wouldn't advertise the fact." + +Trent motioned toward the lamasery. "Do you suppose he had a hand in the +jewel affair?" + +"Who? Sâkya-mûni? If not, why were the gems brought to Shingtse-lunpo? +And remember: a _Grand Lama_ sent Da-yak to Myitkyina." + +"But--" + +"I agree with you," Kerth cut in, anticipating him. "It _is_ +preposterous. It's evident that Chavigny has the alliance of the lamas, +but how did he get it? I haven't told you the strongest link in that +chain yet. You'll recall that a Grand Lama from a Tibetan monastery +emulated the example of the Tashi Lama and made a pilgrimage to the +Sacred Bo-tree at Gaya just about the time the gems were stolen?" + +Trent's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. + +"Precisely," continued Kerth, reading the other's thoughts. "I believe +the lamas who pilgrimaged to Buddh-Gaya carried the jewels out of +India. I have foundation for this theory, too. Since my arrival here +I've learned that a number of the monks who went on that pilgrimage were +from Shingtse-lunpo--and they haven't returned yet!" + +Trent was subconsciously following a detached idea. He remembered that +the priests were at Gaya on the night Manlove was murdered, and if their +purpose was that suggested by Kerth, it furnished a reason for Chavigny +being there.... + +"Nor is that all I know," Kerth resumed. "Caravan-loads of rifles have +been brought here from Mongolia--_Russian_ rifles--also gunpowder and +dynamite. They're stored in the armory under the monastery. Has that any +significance to you?... Trent, we may yet bring down a brace of birds +when we only expected to pot one.... I'm more than a little concerned +with Sarojini Nanjee; I can't adjust her with this business. What are +her secret strings that give her so much power? What can she expect to +do alone? She has a trump card up her sleeve, mark my words. She's no +fool, and I'd feel deucedly better if I were certain she was going to +play that card for us." + +"She promised," Trent reminded. + +Kerth smiled wryly, but the smile passed quickly. + +"Captain Manlove?" he queried. "You've learned nothing?" + +Trent shook his head. The silence after that was heavy. Kerth ended it. + +"I can't stay any longer now. I'm cultivating the abbot of one of the +lesser monasteries, with the view of eventually being assigned to a cell +in Lhakang-gompa. I've a suspicion I'll find something of interest +there, if I ever get in. I daresay you're scheduled to witness the +ceremonies to-morrow, so I won't have an opportunity to see you until +to-morrow night, but I'll return then, about this hour." He extended his +lean hand. "Here's luck to you!" + +"The same," Trent responded with a smile, gripping his hand. "How'd you +get in?" + +Kerth indicated the wall. "Give me a lift, will you?" + +Trent clasped his hands, and, by stepping into the foothold thus formed, +Kerth was able to grasp the top of the wall and draw himself up. There +he sat for a moment, looking below on the other side; then, with a wave +of farewell, he dropped from sight. + +Trent returned to the house, passing the muleteers who were gathered +about a fire in the quadrangle, and climbed to the roof. Dana Charteris +was there--but asleep. For a space of seconds he stood looking down at +the slim form. Her head was pillowed upon one arm and utter weariness +lined the features that were revealed in the moonlight--pale, starry +features. He felt a warm rush of sympathy, a moment when he loathed +himself for having brought her into danger.... He turned away, moving +quietly to the shaft. + +At the top of the ladder he paused. The city lay before him, patches of +gloom and shadow, beneath the dark bulk of the lamasery. To think that +there, among those huddled buildings, was a key to the riddle--a +solution that would dispel the nebulous clouds, perhaps clear the +mystery of Manlove's death! + +A wave of the old bitterness swept up through him; swept up and cast his +features into a mold of grim resolution. + + +3 + +The next morning Trent told Dana Charteris of his talk with Euan Kerth; +also, that Kee Meng was to be her bodyguard. + +"But surely I can leave the compound?" she objected. "I would like to +see the festival to-day--and, oh, it would be frightful here, waiting, +with nothing to do! I'd worry about you every moment, yet with something +to distract me ... don't you see?" + +He considered a long time before he decided. + +"I'm afraid it wouldn't be wise. There's no accounting for what might +happen, and then...." He made a movement as though to furrow his hair, +but instead passed his hand over his turban. "I'm sorry, but the risk is +too great. You won't go, will you?" + +She promised. + +Shortly before noon Na-chung, accompanied by his escort, arrived. The +Tibetan superintended the transformation of Trent from a Hindu merchant +to a lamaist dignitary. It was after one o'clock when the Englishman, +shaved and dressed like Na-chung--orange-yellow robe, mushroom hat and +all--mounted a pony in the quadrangle, and, with the councillor at his +side and a file of helmeted soldiers behind, clattered away from the +house. As he passed out of the gate he looked back for a glimpse of Dana +Charteris, but did not see her. A vague sense of unrest enclosed him. + +Toward Lhakang-gompa they rode, through swarms that pressed eagerly in +the direction of the monastery. Prayer-flags were festooned from house +to house, and women sat by the roadside selling dried fruit and +sweetmeats. + +In the very shadow of the monster building, where the rocks fell away +from its base, they dismounted. The serrated façade piled itself above +them in a series of inward-sloping ledges, reaching a shuddersome height +before it met the helium-like blaze of golden roofs. The soldiers +remained with the horses, while Na-chung led Trent through a gate and a +courtyard--the latter a veritable abyss between the main building and +outer walls--and into a dark corridor that reeked with rancid odors. + +Thus began a journey that carried them through dim chambers and black +halls; through cloisters heavy with incense and faintly lighted rooms +where lamas, sitting before prayer-wheels, murmured passages from +Buddhist scriptures; through courts that were cool and sunk deep in the +shadow of lofty walls; until, at length, they came out into bright +sunlight. + +At first the intense glare stung Trent's eyes, but gradually he became +accustomed to it and saw that they had emerged on the other side of the +lamasery and were upon a gallery overlooking a huge amphitheater. He +hazarded a guess that it measured about half a mile around. An incline +led down from the gallery, between rows of seats and stalls, and along +this slanting aisle and into a box close to the immense center court +Na-chung conducted him. There, seated on cushions beside the councillor, +he had an opportunity fully to absorb the bewildering spectacle. + +Tier after tier of stalls and terraced seats were packed against the +retaining walls. Marquees of striped silk, flying maroon and +flame-colored flags, had been erected around the edge of the arena. In +the far end stood a gilded, silk-draped proscenium, and raised upon it, +under a gold-fringed canopy, was a daïs. On either side of the platform, +herded together and kept within their boundaries by guards armed with +halberds, were hundreds of lamas--patches of cinnabar-red. At the left +of the arena, starkly silhouetted upon the walls, was a line of stakes; +their purpose puzzled Trent. Every available space, except the vast +center-court and the proscenium, was crowded with richly dressed +onlookers. There were Tibetan dukes and duchesses, the turquoise-studded +aureoles of the latter gleaming like blue fire; soldiers and government +dignitaries; high lamas wearing saffron vestments, and novices in red +togas; pilgrims from Ladak, Nepal, Sikkhim, Bhutan, Kham and Mongolia; +men and women garbed in silks and satins and decked with jewels. The +many-hued robes and the colored banners and standards--gold, cerise, +ocher, lavender-blue and neutral-tint predominating--were like vivid +splashes on a giant palette. + +The box where Trent and Na-chung sat was one of a row that was occupied +by men in the orange-yellow robes and mushroom hats of the Higher +Council. Many of these bronze-faced dignitaries were accompanied by +women in maroon garments and silver coral-adorned aureoles. Inquisitive +eyes were turned toward Trent and Na-chung, and the latter bowed and +smiled. + +"Yonder," explained the Tibetan, indicating a long carpet of imperial +yellow that dazzled from a flight of stone steps at one side of the +arena to the proscenium in the remote end, "is where His Holiness will +walk. And that"--inclining his head toward a nearby stall where a +prelate in claret-colored garments sat in the midst of shaven-pated +satellites--"is the Great Magician. It is rumored that he and His +Holiness have--er--had some misunderstanding." + +Thus he gossiped while Trent, searching the ranks of the laity below for +a familiar face and aware of something imminent and compelling in the +subdued buzzing of many voices, listened only half attentively. + +Without warning a trumpet gave voice to a blast. It seemed to inject a +sudden thrill into the atmosphere. Trent felt his muscles grow tense, +and involuntarily his eyes sought the broad stone stairway. + +At the top yak-hair curtains parted for a moment and a group of heralds +bearing long copper horns filed out. Came another blast, monstrously +loud. A shout rose from the multitude; died. Trent heard a faint, minor +chant--coming from behind the yak-hair curtains, he imagined. When this +intoning ceased, trumpets blared again; the curtains at the stairhead +parted. + +Hushed expectancy shut down like a tangible weight. The rapid play of +sunlight on lances and bare blades, on burnished helmets and golden +accoutrements, seemed a visible manifestation of the feverish intensity +that charged the throng. The majority were standing with bowed heads; +some had prostrated themselves. Anticipation transfigured every face. + +Then the head of the pontifical procession came into view. + +Leading were the lictors, with lamaic emblems; then acolytes with golden +censers and chalices. They moved slowly down the steps and along the +yellow carpet. Following them strode the secular lords and +cardinals--bronze-faced prelates in rich, deep-yellow robes and yellow +mitres. Laymen marched at their heels, carrying silken cushions. + +And toward the rear, beneath a golden state-umbrella, attended by Grand +Lamas of the Gelugpa, walked the reincarnation of Gaudama Siddartha, His +Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naksang Sâkya-mûni, the Yellow Pope of Tibet. He +bore the insignia of his pontifical rank in one hand, in the other a +rosary. A mitre was set upon his head. From beneath this peaked hat fell +a golden veil that shimmered in the sunlight and blended with the +yellow-gold pallium and wide stole that hung from his shoulders. + +The living deity moved slowly over the yellow carpet; mounted the +proscenium; sank cross-legged, hands folded, like a Buddha, upon the +daïs. + +Banners and standards were lifted in salute above the countless faces +that blurred against the terraced seats. A detachment of soldiers in +lavender-blue uniforms and brazen helmets clattered out of a door in the +arena and formed a line in front of the gilded proscenium. Flash of +sunlight on helmets and lifted lances; gleam of wrought gold and brazen +accoutrements; a rippling play of gold. Then horses were wheeled, and +the Tibetan cavalry trotted out of the arena. + +Sâkya-mûni removed his mitre. Which proved a signal for the ceremonies +to begin. + +A clarion blare announced a new group of lamas--priests wearing white +robes and hideous masks, representing mythological demons. They paid +obeisance to the supreme pontiff and gathered at one side of the +proscenium. After them came other lamas, in golden harness and mantles +the flame hue of nasturtiums. + +"They are the ancient warriors," explained Na-chung to Trent. "And +those"--waving his hand toward another group that was debouching from a +gateway below the tiered seats--"are the contestants in the wrestling +matches." + +The sinewy Tibetan gladiators saluted Sâkya-mûni. They wore only pelts +of snow-leopards girded about their hips. Their skin, between knees and +throat, was surprisingly fair. The wrestling tourney lasted for over two +hours. Na-chung explained every detail to Trent who, toward the end of +the lengthy show of physical skill, was growing weary of it. Too, his +eyes ached from looking so long and steadily at the sunlit expanse. + +When the wrestlers left the arena, hidden drums rumbled--throbbed out a +tuneless miserere. Cymbals clashed metallically. A discordant blast of +the trumpets whipped the air and a lama wearing a frightful mask with +yak-horns upon it and tiger-skins flapping over his yellow robes moved +toward the proscenium. He held a skull-bowl above him. Suddenly he +paused and dashed its contents to the flagging, where it spread in an +ugly crimson pool. Another burst of trumpets accompanied this. + +"It is the Dance of the Gods," Na-chung told Trent. + +A faint light showed itself in the councillor's eyes. Trent saw the same +glow in the eyes of those around him--a glimmer of fanatical zeal. + +The white-robed lamas danced into the center of the arena; whirled +about, making strange signs; swayed to the monotonous _boom-booming_ of +the drums. The priests garbed as ancient warriors joined in, their +nasturtium-hued mantles and golden harness aquiver like sinuous flames. +As the dance continued, pilgrims frequently leaped up and prostrated +themselves, intoxicated with a mystical vintage. Even Trent was not +immune to infection. The drums throbbed against his heart and temples; +throbbed and throbbed, until they seemed the pulse of a dull delirium. + +The Dance of the Gods was interminably long and, after a while, lost its +hypnotic power over Trent. The sun, a globe of angry red, was rapidly +spinning into the west and a blood-shot sky flamed above the arena when +the evil spirits were exorcized--for that, Na-chung explained, was the +story told by the performance--and the dancers melted into the throngs +of priests on either side of the proscenium. + +"Now comes the Archery Contest," announced the councillor, a repressed +gleam in his eyes. "It is the great event of the celebration--a +demonstration of justice." + +Even as he spoke, trumpets were blown. From behind the yak-hair curtains +emerged a small body of men in golden chain-mail and helmets. (The armor +and headgear interested Trent. Here were relics of the ancients--of +Srong-tsan-gambo and the early Tibetan kings.) The rays of the sun +reflected a dull radiance in the meshes of their armor; sent needles of +fire weaving along the contours of gilded bows and quivers; glittered in +blood-red and gold upon polished helmets. + +"They belong to the guard of his Transparency the Governor," said +Na-chung. + +The archers lifted their bows in salute to the Living God. A visible +ripple of admiration passed around the amphitheater. Heads were strained +forward, eyes focussed upon the mailed bowmen, who aligned themselves on +the right side of the arena--facing the black stakes. There was +something pregnant and potent in their movements.... + +From a gateway opposite the archers rode a double file of soldiers. +Between them walked a line of men in dun-colored garments. As Trent saw +that they were manacled a frightful suspicion fastened upon him. With +dreadful suddenness the purpose of the stakes became apparent.... + +The bowmen stood motionless; only their chain-mail seemed possessed of +life. It glittered and crawled with scaly scintillations, like the +corrugated armor of a dragon. + +At the stakes the soldiers drew up; dismounted. One of the manacled men +screamed and gibbered as he was being bound--sounds that were like +nothing human. Trent turned to Na-chung. The Englishman's face showed no +emotion, but his jaw was thrust forward at an ugly angle. + +The councillor smiled grimly. + +"Their tongues are slit," he informed Trent; then, with a wave of his +hand, he added: "Political offenders." + +Trent, his features cast in a mold that for sheer inscrutability would +have rivalled that of the stoniest idol, turned away--and an instant +later he felt a warm breath upon his ear and heard Na-chung's suave +voice. + +"Thus the Governor punishes treason. Look! There is his Transparency +now." + +A vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair, borne on the shoulders of four +guards, moved through a gateway close to the archers; was placed on the +ground at the end of their stances. The official, visible only as a +crimson blot in the interior, did not rise, but watched the proceedings +from his seat. + +Trent's eyes were drawn back irresistibly to the stakes where the +prisoners were being bound, manacled wrists above their heads. Silence +wrapped the amphitheater about, like tight swathing. To the Englishman, +there was a terrible significance in the undernote of red that the late +afternoon introduced into the scene: the five bars of the blood-red +sunset quivering above the arena and reflecting upon the gilded +proscenium, the deep magenta of the lamas' robes, and the red-gold glint +on harness and naked metal. + +At a signal the archers advanced several paces. Bow-strings were tested; +arrows drawn from quivers. + +A shudder, half of awful ecstasy, half of horror, swept the +amphitheater, like wind rippling the surface of the sea. + +Trent, a nausea spreading from the pit of his stomach to his throat, saw +Sâkya-mûni lift one hand. His lips pressed into a line; otherwise, his +immobility was unbroken. + +Another shiver swept the amphitheater. + +Sâkya-mûni's hand dropped. + +The archers flexed their bows; clapped their heels together; stood +erect. Gutstrings snapped rigid between their nocks.... The +_whizz-zz-zz_ of the arrows seemed to unleash the tension. A hysterical +cheer wavered up from the multitude. The manacled figures sagged, hung, +drenched in the flaming red of the sunset. + +Trent relaxed--but the nausea remained, a dull horror that he could +almost taste. + +Sâkya-mûni rose, as did the multitude. A low chant began, a weird, +droning incantation. The mailed executioners marched out of the arena, +followed by the Governor's vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair. The masked +lamas and those in harness and flame-colored mantles filed toward the +stairway. Lictors and acolytes descended from the proscenium; the +secular lords and cardinals; the Living Buddha and his attendant Grand +Lamas.... Slowly they traversed the yellow carpet, slowly they mounted +the steps and vanished behind the yak-hair curtains. The red monks +herded together on either side of the platform formed human rivulets +that surged into the arena. The onlookers left their seats. + +The Festival of the Gods was over. + + +4 + +Trent and Na-chung moved up the incline, sifting through the swarm. On +the gallery, at the portal of the monastery, Trent looked back. Dusk was +creeping into the inflamed sky and gray motes subdued the crimson +reflection. Over the heads of the people he saw the arena--saw the +sagging figures starkly outlined upon the white wall. + +Then he plunged into the doorway, behind Na-chung. + +As they re-traveled the labyrinth of corridors and courts, there hung +before Trent a picture of the arena as he last looked upon it--a grim +etching. He had seen men slaughtered in recognized warfare, had seen +prisoners executed, but this--There was something monstrous, something +inexplicably hideous, about it. His failure to understand the uncanny +impression only sharpened the horror. "Their tongues are slit--" +Na-chung's words were written as with steel upon his brain. When men's +tongues are slit it is obviously for the purpose of preventing speech. +What did those wretches know? "Political offenders," the councillor had +said ... yet.... + +So ran his thoughts as they emerged at length on the other side of +Lhakang-gompa. Night was swiftly gathering, and a familiar +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair swam in the dusk of the courtyard near +the gate. As Trent drew nearer, a figure in long robes stepped out. He +saw the pale blot of the Governor's face. + +"Ah! It is his Transparency!" exclaimed Na-chung. "He is waiting for +us." + +The Governor stood motionless by his sedan-chair. Not until they were +within three yards of him did he stir--and as he took a step, Trent +experienced a shock that was not unlike a physical blow. But his poise +did not desert him; he only drew a swift breath, which he doubted if the +Governor heard, and a slight smile settled over his features--as though +he had known from the very first that it was Hsien Sgam who rode in the +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair and this meeting was no more than +expected, even anticipated. + +"Hsien Sgam," he said, still smiling. + +The Mongol--he, too, was smiling--bowed. His slender, almost feminine +hands gleamed sharply-cut in the twilight. + +"By that name you first knew me," he replied in the quiet, reserved +voice that Trent remembered so well--a voice that chose each word with +extreme care. "So, my friend, continue to know me as that." + +He wore a dark silk-brocade garment; it looked crimson in the dusk. The +facings were goldcloth, shining dully, and a hat with upcurling brim +surmounted his pale bronze features. One of those curious, vagrant +questions came to Trent as he looked at the Mongol. Was this the +flannel-clad fellow-passenger of the _Manchester_, he who had talked of +revolutions, of Western vices and morals?... Queer.... There was little +of incongruity about him now, here in his native setting; only the eyes +and face--eyes of Lucifer and face of Buddha. Anomalous, unexplainable, +almost--Trent hesitated at using the term, even in thought; yet why +not?--almost monstrous. + +"I am pleased to welcome you to Shingtse-lunpo," Hsein Sgam announced. +"I regretted very much"--here the sensitive lips quivered in a quick +smile--"that you became impatient and left the joss-house, that night in +Rangoon. It was unpardonable of me to have kept you waiting, yet +unavoidable. I hope to do here what I intended to do there--discuss +certain matters with which you are only partly acquainted." Then, after +a pause, "I trust you find your quarters comfortable?" + +Trent answered with a single word. + +"I am delighted to have you accept my hospitality," resumed the Mongol. +"There are many--er--things we must discuss, but I would indeed be rude +if I suggested that we take up those matters so soon after your +fatiguing journey. Perhaps you will do me the honor of calling at my +residence to-morrow night?... I shall send my estimable chief +councillor, Na-chung, to--er--fetch you, as they say in your country." + +And he did a most Western thing; he extended his hand. Trent accepted +it, because he had no choice. For some inexplicable reason he felt a +sudden loathing. In that instant the Mongol seemed, mentally, as +misshapen as his limb. It was like a swift glimpse behind the serene +Buddha-like face, and his touch was a tangible reminder that Hsien +Sgam--Hsien Sgam of the slender hands and sensitive lips--was +responsible for the slaughter that Trent only a short while before had +witnessed. "Thus the Governor punishes treason," Na-chung had said. + +The Mongol spoke, almost with clairvoyance. + +"Doubtless you found in the ceremonies this afternoon a--er--slight +unpleasantness; that is, it would be unpleasant to an Anglo-Saxon." He +smiled. "Public executions, we of Shingtse-lunpo find, are necessary to +bring forcibly to the people the supremacy of the State, and"--the +baffling eyes were more inscrutable than ever--"as an example to those +who contemplate--shall I say, _indiscretions_?" + +Still smiling, Hsien Sgam limped to the sedan-chair. He entered, without +another glance at Trent, and was borne away on the shoulders of the +guards. + +"Come," said Na-chung. "My men are waiting outside the gate." + +Back through the narrow, crowded streets they rode--streets that were as +chaotic as Trent's brain. The discovery that Hsien Sgam was Governor of +Shingtse-lunpo (and, quite evidently, one of the Order of the Falcon) +swung his main danger from Sarojini Nanjee to the Mongol--or rather, +left him between the two perils. Of the pair, he imagined he could +expect more mercy from the woman. If she and the Mongol were in league, +that doubly jeopardized his position; but if they were opposing +forces.... Well, frequently the third party profits by the rivalry of +the other two. What puzzled him most was why Hsien Sgam had tried to +kill him in Rangoon, if he believed him Tavernake, the jeweler. And +Trent did not doubt for an instant, now, that the Mongol was the +instigator of the bullet that Kerth had intercepted. A warm thrill of +assurance ran through him at thought of Kerth. He had one ally. More, of +course, counting the muleteers and Dana Charteris; but the girl was more +of a liability than an asset, a thorn in his fragile security. If she +were only somewhere else.... But she was not. And her presence troubled +him. + +Hsien Sgam, the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo. He smiled inwardly. What was +the Mongol's part in the jewel mystery? He suspected that Hsien Sgam's +talk of a Mongol revolution was a sheath in which his true motive in +luring him to the joss-house in Rangoon lay hidden. Was--? + +"By George!" he muttered, aloud. + +Glancing toward Na-chung, he saw the councillor's questioning look and +made an inconsequential remark, while he asked himself: + +"Is Hsien Sgam ... but no ... yet ... well, why not!... But what of +Chavigny, if he isn't the Falcon!" + +They reached Trent's dwelling-place then. Na-chung halted at the gate, +informing the Englishman that he would leave a guard. + +"As your guide," he explained suavely. "You will wish to go beyond your +quadrangle, and whereas your garments are a passport anywhere in the +city, it is not wise for you to venture out alone--yet." He smiled. "You +see, the fact that you do not speak our language, and that my people are +unfortunately suspicious, might prove ... you understand? Therefore, I +have instructed the guard to accompany you when you leave the house, as +a purely precautionary measure. His Transparency the Governor also +wishes me to present to you the pony which you are riding, as a slight +token of his esteem." + +Trent thanked him and Na-chung clattered away, followed by his retinue +of soldiers. + +As one of the muleteers took Trent's mount, he looked about the +quadrangle for Dana Charteris. + +"Where is my brother?" he asked. + +The muleteer muttered a few unintelligible words. + +"Where?" Trent repeated. + +The Oriental looked as though he expected Trent to strike him, as he +answered: + +"He left the house--this morning--soon after you did, _Tajen_." + +"Alone?" He snapped out the question. + +"No, _Tajen_; Kee Meng went, too." + +"Where? Do you know?"--this with a frown. + +"To the festival, _Tajen_." + +Trent stood motionless. The frown disappeared as he remembered that he +had ridden from the amphitheatre; they, being on foot, would be later in +coming. + +"Send Kee Meng to me as soon as he returns," he rapped, and entered the +dwelling. + +When a half-hour had gone by and Dana Charteris and Kee Meng had not +come, the frown returned to Trent's forehead; returned and stayed; and +deepened into furrows when another thirty minutes did not bring them. He +went up on the roof to smoke and to be alone; and he paced the stones, +drawing nervously upon the amber stem and confessing to himself that he +was alarmed. + +His heart beat a swift symphony of anticipation when he heard the gate +open. Without looking over the roof-wall, he hurried below. As he +stepped into the quadrangle and beheld the limp figure that was being +supported by two muleteers, fear sank its talons into him. + +The sound of his footsteps brought the limp figure up with a visible +effort. He thrust back the two men; took a step; dropped on his knees +before Trent. + +"_Tajen!_" whispered Kee Meng. "_Tajen_, I swear by Allah that--" + +Trent gripped his shoulders. His right hand encountered moisture; he saw +a stain. + +"What is it?" he demanded, his muscles bound in a rigor of dreadful +apprehension. + +"_Tajen_, as we were coming from that--that devil dance, the brother and +I.... We were in a street no wider than this"--painfully he lifted his +hands in illustration--"and they jumped on us from behind--" + +"Who did?" + +"I do not know, _Tajen_; but I think they were lamas. They struck me +from behind--and as I lay there I heard the brother scream--and I.... +They stabbed me, _Tajen_. I saw black for a long while, oh, a very long +while! When I woke up I was lying in the gutter. The brother--he was +gone! I was hurt; but I knew you would kill me if I returned without +looking--so I hunted--until I spilled my blood over the city and had +none left to keep me alive. Then I came--came back!" + +He sank in a huddle at Trent's feet. + +"Kill me, _Tajen_," he moaned. "The brother--how could I refuse when he +told me to go with him to...? But kill me--I am not worth the--" His +voice broke; he was still. + +Trent bent swiftly. After a moment he stood erect. + +"Carry him inside," he directed the muleteers. "It isn't a bad wound; +he's weak from loss of blood." + +The two yellow men stooped and picked up the unconscious Kee Meng. As +Trent entered the house behind them the putrid odor of butter-lamps +assaulted him, sickened him. The blow had come with a maiming force. He +felt suddenly crippled. + + +5 + +When Trent had dressed Kee Meng's wound he returned to the roof, to his +pipe and the stars. The spot seemed a lone haven of cleanliness, raised +above the malefic atmosphere of the city.... To think--to decide what to +do. He told himself that over and over as he paced the stones. His +hands, figuratively, were tied. There was no one to whom he dared +appeal--none save Kerth, and the two of them might search for days in +the labyrinth of the city without even finding a clue. Meanwhile, Dana +Charteris was in danger--a danger that was more frightful because of the +indefiniteness of its character. There was but one explanation for her +disappearance: either Sarojini Nanjee or Hsien Sgam had discovered her +sex and had taken steps to place her where she was likely to cause the +least trouble ... and where she might prove a weapon. + +He smoked on, pipe clamped between his teeth, striding the length of the +housetop. The stars saw what few men had ever seen--Arnold Trent +stripped of his mask, his citadel of impassivity beaten down. A great +hollow infinity seemed to press upon him and quench the very breath from +his lips. He came to understand a new emotion--the agony of separation. +The scales of unreason weighed values, and an alien recklessness urged +him to forsake the sovereign motive for his presence in Shingtse-lunpo +and with one mighty effort break the bonds that held him to a discreet +course. Did not duty toward flesh transcend duty toward the +inanimate?... Thus the lover's litany--a beautiful heresy. + +But all this ache, longing, and unreason only carried him about in a +circle; and from these purposeless revolutions the memory of her, a +continuous glow in the dimness, led him into patience, to a mastery of +himself. There were lines in his face--the mellow writing of anguish. It +was as though he had partaken of the eucharist of suffering and from the +bitter sacrament had come quiescence. + +With the first easing of the tension came a plan. It broke upon him +suddenly. If Sarojini Nanjee had abducted Dana Charteris, he could only +rely upon his wits to free her; but if it was Hsien Sgam--His plan was a +counter-blow at the Mongol in the event he was responsible for the +girl's disappearance. It was a bold play, and if he failed.... + +As he heard a soft footfall, he swung about toward the shaft. A figure +emerged--one of the muleteers. + +"_Tajen_, a lama is below," he announced. "He came over the garden wall. +He says he would speak with you." + +"Send him up here," directed Trent. + +Several minutes later a shaven skull projected itself above the black +opening in the roof, and Kerth, in his lama robes, stepped out. There +was something reassuring in the sight of him. A white man! That alone +was a moral fire in which to forge his resolution. + +Kerth listened in silence while Trent recounted what had happened and +told of his plan. + +"I know of a place to conceal him," Kerth announced, when Trent had +concluded. "It's an old ruin at the other end of the city; and there's a +vault, with a door that will lock. I stayed there the first few days I +was in Shingtse-lunpo. We'll have to strike now--to-night. To-morrow +morning I enter Lhakang-gompa, to serve in one of the cells." He smiled +his satanic smile. "It's my one chance to get at the source of things in +the monastery." + +They descended from the roof--and a few minutes afterward, when Kerth +climbed over the garden wall, he was accompanied by two of Trent's +muleteers. Trent stood in the shadow of the willow-thorn until their +footsteps ceased, then returned to the house to wait. + +He kept vigil in the quadrangle for more than an hour, restless, +impatient. At the first sounds in the willow-grove, he hurried to the +garden and met the two caravan-men. + +"All is well, _Tajen_," reported one of the Orientals. "The lama bade me +tell you everything happened as planned and that the councillor Na-chung +is hidden in the vault." + +"The lama sent no other message?" + +"He said he wishes you the peace of Gaudama Siddartha." + +Good old Kerth, Trent thought warmly. That was his message of comfort. + +"You have done well," he commended the muleteers. "To-morrow you will +each receive a gift." + +It was near midnight, and the stars had fled before black clouds and a +drizzling rain, when Trent forced himself to lie down. Almost the +instant he relaxed unconsciousness carried him into its dim cathedral, +and he drank of the sleep that deadens even the pains of the dying. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LHAKANG-GOMPA + + +From the very midst of slumber Trent was shot into consciousness. He +opened his eyes to find himself submerged in darkness, and to feel +another presence in the black flood. His hand went involuntarily to the +revolver that he kept always within reach, and as he lifted himself upon +his elbow, one hand gripping the weapon, he saw a body silhouetted upon +the grayish rectangle of a window. + +"_Tajen!_" whispered a voice that he recognized as that of one of the +muleteers. "It is Hsiao. There is a man below.... He told me to be quiet +and not arouse the guard.... He brought this for you." + +A folded sheet of paper was thrust into Trent's hand. The scent of +sandalwood caressed his nostrils and cleared his brain of the last +tangle of drowsiness. He rose and sought his electric torch, which was +in his kit-bag. Snapping on the light, he read the note.... It was +brief; merely instructed him to follow the bearer and was signed by +Sarojini Nanjee.... A glance at his watch showed him it was after two +o'clock. + +"Where is he? In the quadrangle?" Trent queried. + +"Yes, _Tajen_." + +"I'll be there directly." + +Trent strapped his revolver to his thigh; procured a certain object from +his pack; went below. + +A thin, misting rain was falling, and the wind swept down in cold +legions from the snows of the North. It was a night to kindle icy flame +in the marrow. Gray gloom lay like a ghoulish lacquer upon the world, +and dogs were howling somewhere in the city. + +Sarojini's messenger was a thin-featured Tibetan with long hair. He +extended a dark bundle to Trent and muttered something in his own +tongue. + +"He says for you to put those on, _Tajen_," translated the muleteer. + +Unrolling the bundle, Trent saw a long toga and a pair of heavy Tibetan +boots. The latter he pulled on with some difficulty, then threw the toga +about his shoulders. + +The long-haired messenger touched his arm, motioning toward the garden. +Hsiao, the muleteer, accompanied them to the wall, where he lent Trent +his aid in reaching the top. Outside, the Englishman found himself in a +narrow lane that opened upon the street. + +Through ghostly highways they moved. Now and then a dog snarled +viciously and slunk away as the Tibetan kicked at him. They traveled +along constricted streets, some graduated into steps, and past silent, +whitewashed houses that loomed spectral in the night. These +ramifications led them to a stone bridge and a roadway between tall +bamboo and the black blur of trees. Trent could see the city's walls +now, beyond rounded clumps of bushes. From this clustered vegetation +rose a large temple-like edifice whose dome shone dully through the +drizzle. + +A lane branched off from the main road and took them to the gates of the +temple-like building. First, a courtyard, then an imposing doorway. +Within, it was damp and cold. Butter-lamps made a feeble attempt to +disperse rebellious shadows. Monster shapes, which Trent perceived to be +idols, glowed sullenly in the semi-dark. + +A hall with red-lacquered pillars led to a massive portal that was +opened by a brass ring. It swung back, to release the odor of incense +and rancid butter and to admit Trent and the Tibetan into a vast space +that evidently was a temple. Butter-lamps hiccoughed and threw their +reflections upon brazen images and old armor. In the remote end a dull +mass of gold kindled in the temple-dusk, a form that took on the shape +of a huge idol--and from beneath the shining god came a figure of +familiar proportions. + +"Greetings, man of many faces!" said Sarojini Nanjee in her sweet voice, +a voice that rang like the notes of a gong in the ponderous silence of +the temple. + +Trent glimpsed behind her a man in claret-colored vestments. The face +was strongly reminiscent of one he had recently seen, and after a few +seconds recognition flashed into him. He was the one whom Na-chung had +pointed out in the amphitheater as the Great Magician of Shingtse-lunpo. +The woman, seeing Trent's look and misunderstanding it, announced: + +"He knows only Tibetan and Hindustani; that is why I speak English." +Then she added, "He is the third most powerful man in Shingtse-lunpo." + +Trent casually took in Sarojini Nanjee's manner of dress--casually, +because he did not wish to appear particularly interested. She wore a +long maroon garment such as Tibetan women wear; only the lines were not +bulky, but adapted themselves to the purpose of revealing the contours +of her figure. Her skin was darkened by a stain--skin that was quite +unlike that of the women of Shingtse-lunpo in that it was smooth and +without a coat of dust and grease. A silver aureole rose behind her +black hair, which was parted after the Tibetan fashion. A flame, as of +black opals, danced and flashed in her eyes as she smiled at him. + +"I have not sent for you before," she told him, "because it would have +been indiscreet. Too, we could have done nothing until now. I did not +know of your arrival until many hours after you reached the city. I--" + +"You expected my muleteers to report my presence," he put in, smiling. + +She smiled, too, although he could see she was not pleased. + +"Yes. Where are they?" + +"I didn't fancy being spied upon night and day," he replied, "so I left +them at Tali-fang." + +"Do you realize that was disobeying me?" + +"You didn't forbid changing servants." After a pause he went on, "Yet +my precautions were useless, for I daresay by now you know everything +that happened since I left Tali-fang." + +She looked at him quizzically. (And he did not know whether the +expression was genuine or not.) + +"What do you mean?" + +"One of my men failed to put in his appearance last night. I naturally +surmised"--this rather drily--"that you detained him to find out what he +knew." + +He was watching her closely, and again that quizzical expression clouded +her eyes. After a moment she smiled queerly. + +"You accuse me of crude tactics," she said; then switched off with: "But +tell me, what have you learned since your arrival?" + +He answered discreetly. "I attended the festival to-day." + +She nodded. "I saw you. I was in the Governor's stall. Because of his +vigilance I dared not communicate with you before this. He watches me as +a hawk watches its prey." (Trent wondered if the word "hawk" had any +significance.) "But while the bird sleeps, the cobra goes about its +business.... You have not yet told me what you learned." + +After some deliberation he said: + +"I know of Sâkya-mûni; and I know that monks from Shingtse-lunpo +accompanied the abbot who pilgrimaged to Gaya." + +A second time she nodded. "Do you know what occurred at Gaya?" + +Trent's heart was beating swiftly as he countered: + +"You should know; you were there at the time." + +And his heart beat swifter as she whipped back: + +"Who told you that?" + +Trent was thrusting boldly. He meant to beat down all guards, to win or +lose. The suspense, the groping in the dark, was consuming his +nerve-tissues. + +"Hsien Sgam," he lied. + +A typhoon of rage flashed across her beautiful face. It spent itself +quickly. She opened her lips; closed them; and after a space said quite +calmly: + +"Why did Hsien Sgam tell you that?" + +Trent shrugged. "How do I know?" + +She gestured impatiently. "What question did you ask that caused him to +tell that?" + +Having gone so far, Trent ventured a step further. + +"Captain Manlove, who shared my bungalow at Gaya, was murdered the night +the monks were there. I asked him if he could explain it." + +A queer, cold expression settled upon Sarojini Nanjee's face. Only her +eyes were warm: they burned like melted opals. She smiled--a rather +terrible smile. + +"I had not heard that before, that your friend was murdered," she +announced. "Why did not you tell me?" + +"Why should I?" + +Her eyes searched his face; encountered that barrier of impassivity. + +"You say you suspected the monks?" + +"Not until I reached Shingtse-lunpo." + +A pause before she pursued: + +"But why, even then, did you suspect them? What motive--" + +"I'm at loss for a motive," he cut in quietly. "I don't know what to +think, for, you see, I found this"--he drew from under his robe a +glittering object--"in his, in Captain Manlove's, hand." + +He opened the silver-chased pendant and extended it to her. She glanced +at the name graven within; looked up at him. The lids sank over her +eyes--to cover surprise, he imagined. + +"But why," she queried, "did not you tell me of this before?" + +"Because if you lied to me once, I thought it likely you'd lie a second +time. You swore that Chavigny had nothing to do with the Order--yet--" +He motioned toward the piece of coral. + +Her eyes burned with a steady flame. + +"I spoke the truth!" she declared. "Chavigny has nothing to do with the +Order, has had nothing to do with it since several days before your +Captain Manlove was murdered. Oh, I know what you think--that I am lying +now! But, even as I spoke the truth then, I speak it now! Chavigny is +dead--was dead before your friend was killed!" + +Trent took the pendant, avoiding her eyes. It was one of his +idiosyncrasies not to look at a person whom he believed lying to him. + +"Chavigny was intrusted with certain work at Indore," she continued, +"but he ran amuck; tried to steal the Pearl Scarf for himself and +substituted an imitation. A blundering Secret Service agent, who had +followed Chavigny from Calcutta, interfered. I am not aware of the exact +circumstances, but this Secret Service agent came into possession of the +real Pearl Scarf. The Order allowed Chavigny to go to Delhi. There the +substitute was discovered--and Chavigny put out of the way. The Secret +Service agent who had the real jewels was in Delhi, where he had tracked +Chavigny. I was instructed to recover the Pearl Scarf, and I sent my +servant, Chandra Lal, to the hotel where the Government agent was +staying. He got the pearls and--" + +"And you took them to Gaya, to the lamas?" Trent interposed. + +"Did I say that?" she retorted. "What I did with them is no concern of +yours--at present." + +"But you were at Gaya?" + +"I refuse to answer that." + +"But if Chavigny was put out of the way, as you say, how do you account +for this?" he pressed on, extending the pendant. + +"How does one account for the sun, the moon, the stars?" she returned. +"No, I do not know now--but I _will_ know! And you shall avenge the +slaying of your friend! You shall have blood for blood! I, Sarojini +Nanjee, promise that! I will learn the truth--even if I must go to the +Falcon!" + +Trent took that as his cue and asked: + +"Who _is_ the Falcon?" + +She stared at him. "Then you have not seen him?" + +Trent wanted to smile. Without herself realizing it, she had told him +the one thing he wished to know. He had said that he had talked with +Hsien Sgam--and now she asked if he had seen the Falcon.... + +"No," he replied, "I have not seen him." + +"You will see him, then," she said quickly, "at the proper time. Minutes +are too precious to spend on explanations now. To-night I shall show you +one of the secrets of Shingtse-lunpo.... Come! You must meet the Great +Magician." + +The high priest of sorcery (whose presence they had for the while +forgotten) greeted Trent cordially in Hindustani, but it was evident +that he was troubled--though the fact that his lips trembled slightly +may have been due to the dampness of the temple. + +Sarojini Nanjee threw a robe about her shoulders and, motioning to +Trent, guided him to one side of the large golden image, to a door that +the Great Magician had opened. Beyond was a courtyard. It was still +drizzling and low black clouds impended. A gate was pushed open by the +high priest and they emerged upon a path that ended at a gate in the +nearby city-walls. If there was a guard, he was discreetly out of sight. + +Outside was a low embankment, then the dark waste of the morass that +girded Shingtse-lunpo. To the west, in the thin veil of rain, was a +shapeless blur that Trent imagined was Amber Bridge. The Great Magician +shut the gate and led the way down the embankment. The ground was not +soggy, as Trent expected, and, straining his eyes, he saw the reason. +They were following a barely visible road through the rushes. + +Toward the shapeless blur they moved. As they drew nearer it became +apparent that it was not Amber Bridge, but a pile of broken stone--a +remnant of the old outer-fortifications--in the middle of the +swamp-belt. When they reached the mass of masonry Trent saw that it was +a portion of a broken wall, rising above nearly obliterated flagstones +that formed the floor of what had once been a room, or a tunnel, under a +mighty rampart--a wall that was hollowed and whose roof had fallen in. +The passage thus formed was not more than three feet in width and ran +for several yards before it ended in a _cul-de-sac_. + +Into the narrow space between the walls Trent and Sarojini Nanjee +followed the Great Magician. It was damp and smelled of freshly-turned +earth. A few feet from the entrance the Tibetan paused and grunted a +word to Sarojini. Instantly a saber of light smote the darkness, a ray +from a very modern electric torch in the woman's hand. The Great +Magician took the light from her, flashing it into the _cul-de-sac_ and +upon a small stone stairway that plunged into grim depths. + +Down into the bowels of the earth it carried them, into a rectangular +crypt. Blocks of masonry had been torn away from one side of the wall +and an irregular aperture gaped blackly. Trent observed that the stones +had not been removed recently, for they were wedged in mud and grown +with fungi. + +Through the rent in the crypt they passed, entering a tunnel that bored +downward at a gradual incline. The torchlight wavered upon damp, ancient +walls; upon several inches of water in the bottom of the passage. Cold, +earthy odors fouled the air. Before they had proceeded far, loose rocks +rattled underfoot, and Trent, glancing down, saw that he was treading +upon chips and small particles of stone. White dust streaked the muddy +water. This prepared him for the pile of shattered rock that appeared +suddenly ahead, heaped at one side of a crude doorway. All of which +attested to the fact that the passage had at one time been sealed, but +very recently opened--and by men who were not masons. + +The tunnel continued its gradual downward course for what Trent +calculated was at least a mile. If he judged aright they must be +somewhere near the middle of the city. Suddenly the subterranean +corridor made a series of turns, then sloped upward, running straight +after that and bringing them at length into a crypt similar to the one +beneath the swamp-ruins. The smell of oil hung in the air, and Trent +identified it with the iron-bound door at one side. He was surprised to +see that its lock was very modern. (From some shop in Gyangtse or +Darjeeling--thus he conjectured irrelevantly.) The Great Magician +fumbled at the formidable portal, and, following a grating noise, it +swung out soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. Yellow light impinged upon +the darkness of a stairway, on the bottom step of which rested a brass +lamp. + +The priest lighted the lamp, and Sarojini Nanjee, slipping her hand into +Trent's, led the Englishman through the door and up the stairway. +Looking back, Trent saw the Great Magician sink cross-legged upon the +floor; then the picture was shut out as they climbed higher into gloom. +Near the top Sarojini halted and directed the light upward. It swept a +square of stone at the very head of the stairs; the lines where it +fitted into place were scarcely visible. + +"You will have to lift the stone," Sarojini told him, stepping aside. + +He mounted the few remaining stairs and stooped in the meager space at +the top, pressing hands and shoulders against the square of stone. Warm +blood rushed into his stained cheeks as he slowly drew erect, lifting +the stone from place and letting it fall noisily upon the floor above. +The space into which the rock fitted was perhaps three yards around, +widening out at the top. Trent's head and shoulders projected from the +aperture into blackness that was more intense because of the light from +which he had emerged. + +"Pull yourself up," directed Sarojini. "Then I will give you the light." + +He drew himself out of the stairway with little difficulty, clambering +to his knees on the stone floor above and leaning back to receive the +pocket-lamp. As he lifted the light he gained an impression of vastness +and gloom and many indistinguishable objects. Placing the torch on the +floor beside him, he grasped Sarojini's hands and pulled her through the +small space--and she lingered uncomfortably long in his arms, whether +by chance or otherwise, he could only wonder. + +He recovered the torchlight, and the woman took it from him. The ray +cleaved through shadows and stamped a bar of yellow upon a row of oblong +wooden boxes; traveled across more boxes (the latter, Trent observed, +the length of ordinary rifles) and brought into glowing prominence the +slender objects that hung upon the walls. With a quickening of his +heart-beat Trent guessed where they were--for the glowing things were +swords and lances. Piles of armor shone with a repressed gleam on the +floor, and numerous bright shapes outside the intimate radiance of the +light resolved into jeweled pistols such as he had seen in the +possession of soldiers of the Golden Army. But with the boxes he was +mainly concerned; their blank sides intrigued him and challenged his +fancy. + +"We are in the Armory," said Sarojini Nanjee, "under the center of +Lhakang-gompa--not beneath the ground, as you would imagine, but just +below the surface of the rocky eminence where the building stands." + +She let the light rove about the Armory, which was vast and stretched on +four sides into black obscurity. A series of arches and pillars deepened +the mystery; armor and various types of weapons kindled dully against a +background of gloom. There were more wooden boxes in remote corners, +innumerable piles of them. + +"What do they contain?" he inquired, indicating the many boxes. + +As he expected, she lied. + +"How should I know? Armor, I fancy. Yonder"--with a gesture--"is the +entrance from the monastery. Soldiers guard the other side of the +door.... Come!" + +As she led off under the arches and along an aisle between the boxes, +Trent asked himself why stores of explosives and ammunition were hidden +beneath a Tibetan monastery. Perhaps, after all, there was something to +Hsien Sgam's revolution.... + +An arched doorway admitted them to a corridor lined with gleaming idols. +Hideous frescoes were painted upon long panels between the images, and +at the end was a massive crimson-stained door. Before one of the panels +Sarojini stopped. The painting was monstrous and pictured a three-eyed +god standing in the midst of skulls and human entrails--a god that Trent +recognized with a start as the one whose image was wrought on the coral +symbol of the Order of the Falcon. At regular intervals on the panel +were four brass rings, each having a long scarlet tassel attached to it. + +Sarojini thrust the torch into Trent's hand and caught one of the brass +rings. She twisted it and tugged, and the panel yielded, sliding to one +side and disclosing a dark cavity in the wall. The woman stepped in +first, Trent following. The recess was not more than fifty feet in +diameter--a square space with frescoed walls. Opposite the entrance, and +upon a lacquered pedestal, was a silver image of Janesseron, the +Three-eyed God of Thunder--and his trio of narrow little orbs looked +down upon the several chests that were pushed against the walls of the +small room. + +"You remember," began Sarojini, "that you were told you would reach +enlightenment by gradations?... Now you stand upon the next to the last +terrace." + +With that she moved to one of the chests; lifted the lid; turned to +Trent. + +"Come closer," she commanded. + +He did. And his eyes met the glitter of gems. And he caught his breath, +for he knew he stood in the midst of the jewels for which he had +penetrated into the forbidden arcanum of Asia. + +"Look," directed the woman, indicating a card attached to the inside of +the small chest. "It is written in Hindustani. See: H. H. Tukaji Rao +Holkar III, Bahadur, Maharajah of Indore!" + +There was a cool, tinkling sound as she drew from the chest a scarf of +pearls--tiny lustrous spheres that shone like miniature moons. + +"For these," she said, "André Chavigny died." + +In the dimness, above the ray of the pocket-lamp, their eyes met, his +expressionless, hers again like black opals. He heard her quick +breathing--felt, as did she, the contagion of the jewels.... In her +hands she held a fortune. Vaguely, irrelevantly, he tried to recall the +sum at which the pearls of Indore were appraised; instead, wondered why +she wished him to believe Chavigny out of the game. + +"Hsien Sgam was the first to show me where the jewels were hidden," she +resumed. "But he did not take me through the tunnel." Again the cool, +musical tinkle as she dropped the pearls into the chest. "We came from +the corridors above the Armory. The possibility of ever making away with +the jewels seemed very meager--until I found out that there was a tunnel +leading from a point somewhere outside the city up into the vaults of +Lhakang-gompa. I learned it from a young layman who was loose of tongue +and eager for _tengas_--learned also that there had been trouble between +Sâkya-mûni and the Great Magician and that the Living Buddha was +threatening to depose his chief sorcerer. So I went to the Great +Magician...." She shrugged. "The lock is easy to him who knows the +combination; thus with men.... The tunnel had been sealed; but after the +sorcerer's men had worked for five nights that obstacle was removed. The +passage was completely opened yesterday. The fool--the magician--thinks +he will fly with us when we leave and receive a portion of the jewels! +But he will never pass the walls of Shingtse-lunpo after to-night, nor +will he interfere with my plans!" + +Before Trent could ask the question that came to the end of his tongue +Sarojini Nanjee threw back the lid of the largest of the chests, and the +shimmer and flare of gems disconnected thought from speech. + +"The Gaekwar of Baroda," announced the woman, pointing to the card on +the inside of the lid. "This is the Star of the Deccan." + +She clasped a necklace of diamonds about her throat, and the stones +trembled against her skin like spiders of fire. + +"Do not they look well about my neck?" she asked in a repressed voice, +a voice that shook. Then she laughed, but he did not like the symptoms +that underlay it. He gripped himself. The muscles of his throat stood +out, and there was about him the air of a man preparing to do battle. + +Sarojini Nanjee returned the diamonds to the chest. Gems rattled. She +lifted what seemed a fabric of the spun brilliance of the universe--and +a flame swept into Trent's brain. This amazing dazzle, as of cascading +stars, was born of a rug made entirely of pearls, with central and +corner figures of diamonds; a rug that coruscated and blazed as though +its weaver had threaded the shuttle with flame and woven a carpet for +the gods; a rug whose gems were multi-hued little serpents that coiled +about Trent's brain and sank their fangs into his reason. + +The carpet slipped from Sarojini Nanjee's hands and lay in a quivering +heap on the edge of the chest. The fire in her eyes matched that of the +rug. + +"Millions!" she murmured in a husky voice. "Millions!" + +... As one in a dream, Trent saw her hands stretch out to him; felt them +on his arms. The touch sent a shock of warning through his frame. +Involuntarily he stiffened and took a step backward--but the perfume of +her hair, the scent of bruised sandalwood, was in his nostrils and on +his lips and face, like the fragrant breath of the sirocco ... and the +hot mystery of her eyes challenged him to take the caress that her lips +offered. (Of the earth always, this Sarojini Nanjee, with earth's gifts +for men.) A deadly languor locked about him. He was in some +fever-breeding jungle, and she was there, this golden woman, very close +to him.... + +A small incident saved him from Attila's fate. + +There came a sound, a gentle rattle and patter, like cool rain upon his +thirsty thoughts. Something seemed to snap in his brain, and he moved +back a pace--and out of the danger zone. He perceived, then, that the +jewel-carpet had slipped from the chest to the floor, thus rescuing him +from the very web that it had contrived. + +Sarojini, too, drew back. Chagrin smothered the fire from her eyes. +Concupiscence in him--her chief weapon--was broken. She saw by the set +of his features that control had returned, and knew that having once +been so close to defeat, he would be thrice as wary as before. She had +lost in this first campaign. She smiled cynically. + +"You were always a fool, Arnold," she told him. "Another moment and I +might have said that to the north, across Mongolia, lies Russia ... and +there, the portals of the world ... you and I...." She smiled again, and +there was a trace of bitterness in it. "Oh, yes, I can forget +Jehelumpore--can forgive. Said I not that I am the Swaying Cobra, that I +dance for those I love, but have only venom for those I hate? Now, +Arnold, you are your old Anglo-Saxon self again--oh, you English, with +your 'sense of honor'--and to-night you will start for India and your +humdrum life. Yes, we will leave Shingtse-lunpo to-night, with +these"--she made a gesture--"and for a while you will be a hero--and +then--" She broke off, still smiling; shrugged. "Then, in the years that +follow, you will often remember that night in Tibet when the Swaying +Cobra might have offered you the wealth of an empire ... and perhaps you +will regret your Anglo-Saxon sentimentalism." + +Then she turned and placed in the chest the carpet whose only gift to +men, down through the years, was a dream of crime. Trent drew one hand +across his moist forehead, as though to wipe away the obfuscations of a +nightmare. The recollection of his weakness came as a hot accusation. +His lips had touched the cup of delirium, and of that shuddering moment +there remained but the memory--gray anti-climax. + +"We dare not remain here longer," announced Sarojini. "The Great +Magician is a coward, and if we are too long we shall find him +chattering like the ape that he is. I will give you your instructions +now. Listen well. To-night--it must be near dawn now--I shall have a +pack-train ready, and in barley sacks, upon the animals, will be the +jewels. You will send your caravan out of the city beforehand, with +instructions to wait on the road a mile beyond Amber Bridge. Meanwhile, +at eleven o'clock--remember, eleven--a man will be at your house and +will guide you to the gate by which we left the city this morning, the +Great Magician's Gate. There I will meet you. + +"The gems will not be missed until the following day--and I have taken +precautions to cover our trail. Yesterday a man left with a caravan of +yaks, and several miles beyond the _tchorten_ outpost he is waiting. +There we will change pack-animals. He will go north, along the road to +Mongolia, with the ponies and mules; while we will travel south, with +the yaks. The soldiers at the outpost will describe us as having been on +mules, and our pursuers will follow the tracks of the horses and mules. +When they discover their mistake we will be near the border of +India--for we shall travel along the Himalayas to Gyangtse. There the +District Agent will protect us." + +"Can my muleteers leave Shingtse-lunpo without passports?" Trent +questioned. + +She nodded. "A passport is necessary only when one wishes to enter; it +is not required at all of Tibetans.... Come, we must go." + +They left the recess in the wall, closed the panel and returned to the +vast, dim Armory. Again the blank sides of the boxes intrigued Trent. +Sarojini, carrying the flashlight, preceded him through the aperture in +the floor and stood on the stair, directing the ray up while he fitted +the stone into place. Then they descended into the crypt. + +The Great Magician was waiting as they had left him--sitting +cross-legged on the floor. Extinguishing the lamp, he placed it upon the +bottom step and locked the door. + +Back through the tunnel, with its cold, earthy odors, they went; reached +the crypt in the swamp; ascended into the ruins. It was still dark. The +rain had stopped, but a lingering moisture saturated the cold air. +Under the gray barren sky they crossed the marsh and entered the city. +The Tibetan who guided Trent to the Great Magician's temple was waiting +just within the gate, and there the Englishman parted with Sarojini +Nanjee. + +"This man will come for you to-night," she whispered in English. "Be +ready. To-night we win or lose, Arnold--and if we lose, Hsien Sgam will +have us put to death as he did those mute fools who were executed in the +amphitheater yesterday!" + +She smiled--a smile that might have been a promise or a threat--and +hurried away with the Great Magician. + +Trent moved off behind his guide. Once more they traveled the silent, +ghostly streets where only snarling curs were astir. The Tibetan uttered +never a word--not even when he left. At Trent's house he helped the +Englishman over the wall, then slunk toward the mouth of the lane. + +The muleteers were asleep in the quadrangle, but Trent's footsteps +aroused them. He instructed Hsiao to make a fire. Kee Meng, who lay upon +a yak-hair robe by the main entrance, told him he had been sleeping +well, that there was little pain and he could stand without ill effects. + +As Trent dried his clothing by the fire, scenes of the past few hours +conjured themselves in the darkness beyond the flames. Three things he +had learned; three things he had yet to learn. He knew where the jewels +were hidden; knew that Sarojini Nanjee and Hsien Sgam were not allied +(although her connection with the Mongol puzzled him); knew the woman +could tell him something about the murder of Manlove (for she was in +Gaya the night he was killed). But the mystery of Chavigny was yet +unsolved, as was the mystery of Manlove's death and the mystery of Dana +Charteris' disappearance. He did not altogether trust Sarojini; the +incident of the rug (flame to the memory) was a hint of some purpose of +her own. Furthermore, her plan was too simple to be convincing.... And +how much there was to be accomplished before eleven o'clock! He had one +remaining card to play. And he would not wait for Hsien Sgam to send for +him; he would seek him out, force his hand. + +With this purpose established in his mind, he instructed the muleteers +to call him three hours after sunrise and went to his room. He was +weary--body and soul. + +When he fell asleep, dawn was beginning to bleed the veins of the East. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FALCON'S NEST + + +It seemed to Trent that he had scarcely closed his eyes before a touch +awakened him. Sunlight floated through the window in a cloud of gold, +and Hsiao, the muleteer, stood beside his cot. When he rose he felt +stiff and empty of vitality; the vampire of utter exhaustion had drained +him while he slept. A groove was worn into his brain, a groove into +which all thoughts fell unresistingly. + +It was nearly nine o'clock, and a few minutes later when he went below +he found Kee Meng bending over a fire, boiling water for his tea. + +"I thought I told you not to move about," he said sternly to the +Mussulman. + +Kee Meng tapped his wound. "See, it is well now, _Tajen_!" Then he +inclined his head toward the soldier who lounged in the gateway. "I was +talking to him a while ago, _Tajen_, and he says there is great +excitement at the house of the councillor, Na-chung, because"--Kee Meng +winked--"because Na-chung disappeared last night and they fear he has +been murdered and his body thrown to the dogs and vultures! He says they +are searching the city for the councillor." + +Trent did not smile. In his eyes was an absent look, as though his +brain followed a derelict idea. Presently he asked: + +"I've had no message from the lama?" + +"No, _Tajen_." + +Trent spent a restless three hours. He went up on the roof and smoked +and thought. There was something pregnant and repressed in the calm blue +sky, in the gleam of Lhakang-gompa's golden roofs, and in the shimmer +and glare of the whitewashed city. He waited until noon, hoping he would +hear from Kerth; but no message came, and, vaguely troubled, he +descended from the roof. He procured his revolver; slipped it under his +orange-yellow robe. Then he sought Kee Meng, who was in the quadrangle. + +"I am going to the Governor's house," he told the muleteer. "As soon as +the soldier and I have gone, get our packs together and you and the men +go to the place where Hsiao and Kang went last night. Stay there, in +hiding, until you hear from me. Under no circumstances leave. Deliver +the--the thing that is hidden in the cellar only in my presence or upon +a written order from me." + +"But, _Tajen_," objected Kee Meng, "do you go alone?" + +Trent nodded. "Alone." + +An expression of genuine concern came into the Mussulman's oblique eyes. + +"This is an evil city, _Tajen_; the Governor is an evil man. It was he +who commanded the archers yesterday. And the brother--what of the +brother, _Tajen_?" + +"I am going now to find him." Then he called Hsiao. "Tell the soldier I +wish to go to the Governor's house," he directed. "Then bring my horse." + +Fifteen minutes later Trent and the soldier rode out of the quadrangle +and toward Lhakang-gompa. + +They skirted the outer walls of the monastery and followed a wide street +through a part of the city that was unfamiliar to Trent. The Governor's +residence was at the very end, surrounded by a garden and roofed with +dazzling blue tiles. A soldier admitted them into the courtyard, where +they waited until a man who, Trent imagined, was a chamberlain came out +and spoke in Tibetan to the soldier. Then the former went inside. He +reappeared a moment later and beckoned to Trent. The Englishman +dismounted; left his pony with the soldier; followed the chamberlain +into the dwelling. + +He was conducted along a hall that was dark after the bright sunlight. +Curtains parted, swished behind him. As his vision became better +regulated to the dimness he saw a great door, stained cardinal-red. This +was opened by the chamberlain, who stood aside for him to enter.... The +door closed gently behind him. + +He was in a room with scarlet-lacquered walls and frescoes like those in +the Armory. The silken hangings, too, were scarlet, and a single window +with an iron grill allowed the sunshine to filter through in golden +rain. Facing him was a silver image of Janesseron, the Three-eyed God of +Thunder; and beneath the idol, at a Burmese teakwood table that struck a +jarring note in the otherwise Tibetan room, and in a teakwood chair +that was equally as incongruous, sat his Transparency Hsien Sgam, the +Governor of Shingtse-lunpo. + +The Mongol rose an instant after Trent entered and limped forward, his +hand extended. Realizing it would be unwise to offend Hsien Sgam at the +outset, the Englishman accepted the proffered hand. + +"I am delighted to see you,"--Hsien Sgam paused deliberately and +smiled--"Mr. Tavernake." And he added: "We may converse without fear of +being overheard; there are no eavesdroppers in my house. Will you sit +down? I was unprepared for this visit, as I did not expect to receive +you until to-night, when I hoped to have you dine with me--which I still +hope you will do.... I trust no trouble brings you?" + +Trent, not surprised by the reception (for east of Suez a dagger lurks +beneath silk), carefully chose his words before he gave tongue to them. + +"I've come to report a loss," he announced, looking directly at Hsien +Sgam. + +"Ah!" The Mongol uttered the expletive softly. + +A long pause followed, each man waiting for the other to resume. Hsien +Sgam took the initiative. + +"I am desolated to learn that you have suffered a loss, though of what +nature I am not yet aware. We--er--find it very difficult to control +thievery in the city. May I inquire what you lost?" + +The bronze face was as expressionless as that of the Buddha it so +resembled. Nor was Trent's face any less impassive. It was as though +the two had drawn armor about them. + +"Last night," said the Englishman, "one of my muleteers disappeared." + +"Ah!" Again the soft expletive. "Is that strange--er--Mr. Tavernake? Is +it not likely that he deserted?" + +Trent went on: + +"He was attacked while returning from the festival with another +muleteer. The latter was wounded in the struggle, knocked unconscious; +and when he awakened his companion was gone. Since then I haven't seen +nor heard of the missing muleteer." + +A smile settled upon Hsien Sgam's beautiful face. Once more Trent caught +the illusion: eyes of Lucifer, face of Buddha. + +"Be assured, Mr. Tavernake, I shall do all in my limited power to learn +whither your--er--_muleteer_ has been spirited." + +Trent rested one hand upon his hip, touching the steel beneath the robe. + +"I understand," he began, "that last evening your chief councillor, +Na-chung, who was kind enough to accompany me to the ceremonies +yesterday, was missed from his home." + +Hsien Sgam limped back to his table; sat down; folded his hands upon the +surface. The close-cropped head rose, almost as a deformity, from the +dark crimson robe. In that instant he was both sinister and pathetic, +threatening and pleading. Trent saw him as a figure curiously detached +and aloof from human beings (the power of the man could not be denied), +as mentally grotesque and misshapen as his limb. + +"It is strange," he declared in those chosen, precise words of his, +"that the two disappeared on the same night, your _muleteer_ and my +chief councillor. It is quite"--the slant eyes smiled--"quite +coincidental." A pause. "Do I--er--strike the nail on the head, as they +put it in your country, when I say that you come for a twofold purpose: +to solicit my aid in finding your _muleteer_, and to inform me that you +have discovered a clue that might lead to the very excellent Na-chung? +In other words, you suggest a compromise: I agree to direct my efforts +toward recovering your--er--lost one, if you produce the clue that will +lead us to the councillor." + +Another smile. Trent, too, smiled--only inwardly. There was something +droll in the situation. + +"Did you consider," the Mongol continued, "that--er--my duties may be +quite pressing and that I might find it difficult to spare the time to +devote to searching for your--_muleteer_?" + +"But surely," Trent parleyed, "in return for the service I can render, +you will find it convenient to spare time enough to repay me?" + +Hsien Sgam's eyes contemplated the surface of the table; his fingers +worked with nervous energy. + +"Suppose," he suggested, "even _then_ I find it impossible to respond to +a suggestion that under other conditions and at another time would be +welcome. What then?" + +"Then," answered Trent, "I should call the compromise a failure." + +Silence. Presently Hsien Sgam spoke: + +"Let us cast aside pretenses," he said in his quiet, restrained manner. +"You have brought--I hesitate to say it--war into my camp, so to speak, +and you expect me to accept the first terms that are offered." He linked +his hands together. "That is impossible, Mr. Tavernake." He rose. There +was a queer majesty about him. "Nor do I think it wise for you to resort +to--to crude enforcements such as you now contemplate." He smiled with +self-assurance. "Consider the results. You would not gain your +objective; you would be acting as did the man in your very excellent +English parable about a fowl and a golden egg." + +Then he lifted his hand and rapped upon the table--and almost instantly +the door behind Trent opened. The Englishman did not turn, though he +heard the footsteps of more than one. + +"Suppose"--this suavely from the Mongol--"we declare an armistice, as it +were, until to-night? It will afford me great pleasure to offer you the +hospitality of my residence and thus eliminate the inconvenience of +riding back to your house in the midday sun. At eight o'clock to-night +we will dine--is not that the conventional European hour?--at which time +we can discuss a compromise. Also the duties which you shall assume in +Shingtse-lunpo." + +He spoke a few words in what Trent imagined was Tibetan to those +standing behind the Englishman. Then he addressed Trent again. + +"Shall I be presuming if I suggest that you give into my keeping that +which you have under your robe?" He smiled. "You see, not being familiar +with the customs of my country, you are not aware that it is considered +an act of discourtesy for a guest to keep any sort of firearm during a +visit, no matter how brief. You will forgive me for assuming the rôle of +instructor?" + +Trent drew the revolver from beneath his garments; passed it to Hsien +Sgam. The latter accepted it with the air of one receiving a token of +surrender. He bowed slightly. + +"Now you will accompany my servants to the guest chamber, which I trust +you will find comfortable, although it is not quite up to the standard +of those of your very modern country." + +Trent turned. Two soldiers, each armed with ancient-looking jewelled +pistols, were standing just within the doorway. He left the room between +the guards. + + +2 + +To a room on the second story of the Governor's residence Trent was +taken. An iron door shut with strident clangor behind him. He saw +neither lock nor bolt as he entered, and, after waiting for several +moments, he tried the door, a purely perfunctory act. To his surprise it +swung back--and showed him, in the corridor-gloom, two mailed, armed +soldiers. This was the first eye-proof of captivity. + +Trent closed the door and delivered his attention to the room. It was +large and of stone, and gory frescoes were painted upon the wall-panels. +There were two windows, each barred and offering a view of the city--a +waste of terraced white, almost blinding in the sunlight, crowned by the +monastery and its golden roofs. Trent peered out of one window, then the +other. Both looked down upon a wide roadway. For a moment he gazed at +the few monks and soldiers that came and went below, then moved to a +bench fixed against the wall and sank heavily, with the uncertain air of +a drunken man, upon the red cushions. There was the same suggestion of +intoxication in his eyes, which were veined with red from loss of sleep. + +He removed his mushroom-shaped hat and furrowed his black-dyed hair. His +was the despair of a gambler who has plunged, who perceives defeat for +himself in the first hand and after that plays without hope, with only +the will to hope. + +Like something remote and beyond reach, something dim as a dream, was +the thought of Dana Charteris. His interview with Hsien Sgam drove out +the mystery surrounding her abduction, but left an infinitude of +apprehensions. The purpose that actuated the Mongol to such a move was +not obscure. Yet if she were a hostage, he need not fear for her +safety--for the present. Eight o'clock--much hinged on that. What would +the Mongol demand? + +A deeper tide of thoughts brought to focus interests other than +personal. If Sarojini Nanjee succeeded in her venture, she would be +waiting at the Great Magician's Gate at the appointed time. And if he +was still a prisoner then? But, even if he succeeded in freeing himself, +he could not go without Dana Charteris. Nor could he abandon Kerth.... +Knotted cords, and apparently no loose ends with which to work. His only +foil was the fact that he held the secret of Na-chung's whereabouts--a +slim weapon with which to fight a more cunningly armed opponent. + +Kerth. Where was Kerth now? In Lhakang-gompa? How could he get word to +him? Bribe the soldiers? He dared not try; his message might fall into +Hsien Sgam's hands and thus destroy Kerth's chances.... But he did not +know where to reach Kerth--a difficulty he had entirely overlooked. + +He rose, and his eyes wandered about the room. As a matter of course, he +tried the bars of the windows. His efforts led only to a fuller +realization of his plight. Taken without violence, in a room with an +unlocked door, he was as securely confined as though he were chained and +in a dungeon. + +He returned to the bench to wait--wait for eight o'clock. As the minutes +dragged by his nerves underwent a gradual disintegration. Anxiety, +mental and physical weariness--they were the destroying forces. He +walked the floor.... It was exquisite torture, this waiting; something +inquisitional about it. He fled from it, in thoughts, to Dana Charteris, +as a persecuted worshipper to the healing coolness and quiet of temple +corridors.... + +Sunlight ceased to reflect its glare upon the whitewashed houses, and +the gilded roofs of Lhakang-gompa floated in the gathering twilight like +islands on a dusky sea. A rosy light spread above the city, above the +towering lamasery, and deepened from pink to sullen red, like the +flaming promise of an angry Stromboli. There was something sinisterly +significant--a devil's symbol--in the sunset; thrice significant to +Trent as he paced his prison and watched the crimson dye staining the +city. For what seemed little more than a moment Shingtse-lunpo swam in +the wine-light as in blood; then night touched sun-scorched walls with +soothing hands and drew a veil of secrecy over the sprawling mass of +houses. + +As the luminous hands of Trent's watch approached eight o'clock he heard +sounds outside his door--footsteps and muffled tones. Figuratively, he +gave himself into the hands of his kismet. + +The door opened. Polished armor shone in the dimly lighted hall. A hand +beckoned to him. Between armed soldiers he left the room and descended +to the lower floor. + +Hsien Sgam, in his robes of office, stood waiting in the scarlet chamber +where he had received Trent that morning; and his greeting,--the +quintessence of irony--his quiet, self-assured smile, made Trent falter +in his diplomatic resolution to sheathe his antagonism. + +One of the soldiers drew aside a scarlet curtain, revealing an arched +doorway and, beyond, a long, dim hall. There a table was set. Tapers in +a European candelabrum threw flickering light upon European silverware. + +"You will observe," said Hsien Sgam, with a wave of his slender hand, +"that I have been educated to your manner of eating. I generally relapse +into barbarism, but this is an occasion--a celebration, as it were, in +honor of the arrival of the first Englishman in Shingtse-lunpo." + +Hsien Sgam sat across the table from Trent, and behind him--grim +reminders of his power--stood two soldiers, one on either side of the +scarlet-curtained archway. It was clear that the Mongol was not a +gambler.... Three Tibetan women, their faces smeared with kutch, served. +There was little pretense at conversation, and the trying mockery of the +meal was half over before Hsien Sgam broke the prolonged strain. + +"Let us not be deceived," he began, "but understand each other at the +very start; let us, as you would say, commence with clean slates." He +smiled over a cup of tea--tea brewed in the English fashion, and not the +sickening gruel that masquerades under that name in Tibet. "As you have +probably guessed, I know you are not he who the very beautiful Sarojini +Nanjee would have me believe you--one Tavernake, a jeweller--but Major +Trent--er--Major Arnold Ralph Trent, R. A. M. C., I believe is the full +title, working in the interests of those who would commit the lamentable +mistake of interfering with the affairs of others." + +The Mongol continued to smile. "Furthermore, let it be understood that +the fact that I know this does not in the least prejudice me against +you. That one is blind is not his own fault. To enlighten you, to give +you true sight--that is my purpose." + +Trent met Hsien Sgam's gaze with unwavering eyes. + +"At one time you were prejudiced," he suggested pointedly. + +The smile seemed painted immortally upon the Mongol's bronze face. He +nodded slightly. + +"You refer, I presume, to the incident at Rangoon--when I came near +committing a grave error? For the while I was deluded into believing it +would be wiser for you not to continue to Shingtse-lunpo; I now see that +I was wrong. I crave your forgiveness for that--er--almost +indiscretion." + +Once more the grim humor of the situation, the grotesquery of it, became +apparent to Trent. This anomaly of a creature! Eternally the two +elements of his being seemed warring--the Lucifer and the Buddha. + +"Perhaps you will understand more clearly," said Hsien Sgam, "if I go +back into the years--the years of the locust, your Christian Bible calls +them.... You will forgive the fact that I am personal. It is +necessary." + +He spoke to one of the serving-women and she disappeared behind a +curtain, to return a moment later with a silver tray. Trent almost +laughed aloud; perhaps it was the tension.... Cigarettes!... He welcomed +the smoke; it would clear his brain. Both he and the Mongol lighted +their cheroots in a candle-flame. The latter's face seemed to swim in +the blue clouds, his woman's-mouth twisted into that persistent, graven +smile. + +"I am an experiment," Hsien Sgam commenced. "Whether a success or a +failure, I will let you judge. It is the custom in Mongolia to deliver +one child from every family to the lamas for monastic training. I was +chosen from a group of four brothers and destined from birth for holy +orders. Very early--so early that I cannot quite remember it--I was +given into the charge of the abbot of a monastery at Urga. I was a--I +believe 'acolyte' is your word for it. When I was fourteen there was a +celebration at Urga; it is called the Ts'am Haren. During the races I +was injured; my pony fell on my limb. I was ill for many days. When I +grew better they told me I would be lame, always.... That very night my +mother had a vision: she saw me harnessed in golden mail and upon a +white horse, leading a great army. I was on a mountain-top, she said, +with legions about me, on the slopes and in the valleys; and at my feet +was Asia. She saw a flame, with the face of Timur the Lame in it, +descend into my body. Thus the soul of the great conqueror came to rest +in the body of her second born." + +The smile had faded from Hsien Sgam's face; there was in his eyes a glow +that hid the devil-light. All the beauty of Buddha shone upon the bronze +features. + +"That was how I became a--what is the word?--messiah?" He went on: "A +conference of the princes was held in the palace of the Hut'ukt'u, and +it was proposed that I be sent to acquire the learning of the white +lords. The Hut'ukt'u opposed it, for he was afraid that eventually I +would have more power than he. But in the night I was taken away, by +swiftest camel, and with the treasure of my house in goatskin bags. My +mother accompanied me to Kalgan, then turned back--but my father went on +to Peking. The Manchu woman was on the throne at the time. She had heard +that a Mongol prince was being sent away to be educated in Western +schools and return and establish an independent empire, and she, like +the Hut'ukt'u, was afraid. She sent assassins. I escaped--but my +father...." + +He shrugged; smiled. The shining look went from his face; his beauty was +again that of Lucifer, the fallen angel. + +"So I went. I studied after the manner of Englishmen.... I wonder"--he +leaned across the table toward Trent--"I wonder if you can understand my +feelings there, a boy, in an alien land? Gray buildings and rushing +trains and electricity--the roar of a modern Babylon--after yoürts and +camels and candlelight! There where men denounce polygamy and encourage +prostitution! + +"It was a slow death to me, a numbness that commenced in my limbs and +rose up--up--until it touched the very source of my thinking. Your +Civilization with its civilized vices plucked something vital, something +unexplainable, from me.... But I stayed; I learned; and when I had +finished, I returned. But not as he who had left--who had wept when his +father fell under the blade of a Manchu assassin. I had gone as the +dreamer; I came back as the awakened sleeper, incensed toward those who +had replaced visions with sordid reality.... That was in the year that +Christian calendars call nineteen hundred and four--the year Tubdan +Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, forsook Lhassa." + +Their cheroots had burned out. The scent of stale tobacco hung in the +air like an unclean aura. To Trent it seemed the essence of Hsien Sgam's +story--his tragedy. + +"The Dalai Lama came to Urga," Hsien Sgam continued. "The Hut'ukt'u was +jealous of him and he made his stay as unpleasant as possible. But +before the Dalai Lama left, I spent many hours with him. Our cause was +progressing slowly when the revolution against the Manchus came; then +Yuan Shih-kai, and the restoration of Tubdan Gyatso. But the Church had +lost much power. A conference was called at Lhassa and it was decided +that a new Head be formed--an invisible Head, unknown to the English and +other aggressors. Shingtse-lunpo was chosen. It became the Head of the +Church--a sort of Vatican. It was the will of Gaudama Siddartha that a +certain Grand Lama's body should be the vessel for his spirit. Thus came +the title of Sâkya-mûni to His Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naktsang, the +Supreme Lama of the Gelugpa. It was also deemed advisable by the Council +of Lamas that I should go to the new monastery of the Head and be +invested with the power of Governor of the city. I was to be +a--er--connecting link between Tibet and Mongolia. + +"Dorjieff, the Buriat monk, had promised us the aid of Russia. +Frequently, before the invasion of Lhassa, he acted as an intermediary +between the Czar and the Dalai Lama, and on one occasion the Russian +emperor sent Tubdan Gyatso the vestments of a--how is it called?--a +bishop?--of the Russian church. But the Russian monarch fell in the war, +and hope of Russian aid dwindled. China was strangling Mongolia; Tibet +had asserted her rights. Then came the Kiachta Convention. We thought we +had won. But the Hut'ukt'u is a coward. With Semenov on one side, +threatening, and Japan on the other (it developed later that both were +the same), he became frightened.... You know what happened." + +Hsien Sgam passed cigarettes to Trent, who refused; selected one +himself; lighted it. + +"It appeared that we were facing defeat," he resumed. "We had no +money--perhaps a little in the treasuries, but not enough to propagate +our plans. It seemed imminent that Japan would build the Kalgan-Kiachta +railway, and such a thing would mean the end of the dream of a Mongol +empire.... Ah, these railways! Keys to power! French--er--capital is +behind the Chinese-Eastern Railway. Also the Yunnan Railways. The South +Manchurian and the Shantung railways are Japanese-controlled. Chinese +sovereignty in the districts where there are foreign-owned railways is a +mere word. + +"Thus it would be in Mongolia, if the Kalgan-Kiachta railway were built +by Japanese money. But how could it be stopped? Mongolia herself had no +money. The only way was, as I once told you, through revolution. +Establish Mongolian control and refuse a concession to any power to +construct the rail line. And that way, too, was obstructed by lack +of--er--funds.... Then the gods sent an answer to our prayers in the +form of a foreigner--a man whom you know by the name of André Chavigny." + +The muscles of Trent's jaw moved perceptibly at this announcement; +otherwise, he sat motionless, hands grasping the edge of the table, eyes +upon Hsien Sgam. + +"There was a very great disturbance in Lhakang-gompa," the Mongol +pressed on, "when it was reported one day that a white man had been +discovered--er--masquerading in the city. His Holiness charged me to +interview the prisoner and ascertain how much he had learned. This I +did, and you may imagine my amazement upon discovering that this white +man was the André Chavigny of whom I had heard in Europe. + +"His true purpose in Shingtse-lunpo I have never learned from his lips, +but I am of the opinion that he might have been deluded by fantastic +tales of jewels and wealth in the vaults of Lhakang-gompa. He knew he +had seen too much to be allowed to leave; that is why he made me a most +amazing--er--proposition. I believe I can recall the very words he +uttered. He said: 'I have heard of your plans for a revolt against +China. Give me my life and I will finance you.'" + +Hsien Sgam laughed--a low, soft sound. + +"Conceive the situation, major: this adventuring Frenchman, with only a +few _tengas_, offering to finance the revolution! It was--do you say, +_droll_? But I listened to him. In this very room we talked, and he sat +where you are sitting now. He has a tongue as of satin. He talked for +his life that night, and what he told me amazed me. I did not believe it +could be done at first. I told him so, and sent him to the guest chamber +which you occupied, while I thought and thought.... I went out on the +city-walls. I looked toward Mongolia--Mongolia dying--and I realized +that this André Chavigny should live." + +The serving-women had disappeared; Trent and the Mongol were alone but +for the two mailed sentinels at the doorway. + +"It is not difficult for you to imagine what André Chavigny told me," +said Hsien Sgam. "Before venturing into Tibet he had been in India--had +visited the cities of Baroda, Indore, Gwalior.... He had seen jewels +worth many millions of English pounds. He had seen and planned--only +planned. Of those gems he told me--of his plan, too. He had observed, +he said, the monks of Shingtse-lunpo cutting coral and turquoise +ornaments; therefore, why could not they, under the proper direction, +re-cut and re-set diamonds and emeralds and rubies? He knew +of a market--_sub rosa_ is the expression he used. And for a +certain--er--percentage--he offered to finance the revolution. + +"I presented the plan to His Holiness--with my approval--and after hours +of contemplation he announced that the gods had sanctioned his consent. +So the Order of the Falcon was formed--the Falcon, whose speedy wings +would enable him to defeat the Japanese Black Dragon. + +"When all arrangements were completed, André Chavigny and I, with a few +associates, set out for India--through Burma, as you came here. André +Chavigny went to Indore, I to Jehelumpore, other members of the Order to +Baroda, Gwalior, Alwar, Jodpur, Tanjore, Bahawalpur and Mysore. +Meanwhile, the abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was journeying with a band of +pilgrims to the Sacred Bo-tree at Buddh-Gaya. + +"In the work which I had to do at Jehelumpore it became necessary for me +to cultivate some one who had--_entrée_, the French say--who had +_entrée_ into the Nawab's palace. The gods decreed that it should be +Sarojini Nanjee. I met her. And to me, for the first time, came love of +woman." + +Hsien Sgam's smile underwent a metamorphosis--became the smile of one +who tastes the gall of a bitter memory. Again, as on that night on the +_Manchester_, Trent felt the heat of his words--words drawn from the +vortices of emotion. + +"I tell you this," explained the Mongol, "a thing I have told no man, so +that you may fully understand.... _Shinje!_ How I loved! I was the monk +awakened to the world: desiring, as a man who sees a spring in the +desert thirsts--blindly, extravagantly.... I told her of my dream of +empire; I offered her a throne, and she consented to come to Tibet. Thus +Sarojini Nanjee became a member of the Order of the Falcon--and my +betrothed. + +"Then came the night of June the fourteenth. You, as well as the English +police, wondered how the jewels were removed when every border, every +means of egress, was guarded. It was not difficult; it merely +necessitated extreme caution. The day following the disappearance +of the gems a _coffin_ left each of the cities, accompanied by +some--er--'relative' of the 'deceased.' These"--his smile +expanded--"were delivered to the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka and his lamas. +After that, it was very simple. The jewels went with the pilgrims to +Darjeeling. Then--" He gestured expressively. + +A pause followed. Before Hsien Sgam took up his narrative he pressed his +nearly burnt-out cigarette into a bowl--stared at the ashes as though +each gray fleck was the dust of a dream. + +"I was in Delhi when I first heard of you--and that Sarojini Nanjee had +betrayed me.... Betrayed by the woman I loved!... At first I was +puzzled as to how to meet this situation--that is, your entrance into +our sphere of activities; whether to--to do away with you, or allow you +to continue until a later time. I decided upon the latter course, for it +suddenly occurred to me that you, being a military man, might +be--er--persuaded to direct your efforts into another channel. A servant +of mine in the employ of Sarojini Nanjee--a man named Chandra Lal--kept +me acquainted with your every move. Thus I was able to take the same +boat as you and to realize I had been wise in assuming you might prove +of more value alive than ... otherwise. In Rangoon I suffered a moment +of indecision, and almost defeated my original purpose. By what happened +I saw that the gods disapproved of my--er--quenching the vital spark, as +the Kanjur says. + +"I ordered your presence at the festival yesterday because I wished you +to see how we dispose of traitors. The men who died were members of the +Order who committed grave--er--errors.... And speaking of errors reminds +me to acquaint you with the fate which you would have met to-night had +not I intervened." + +He rose and limped across the room, halting at a window whose draperies +were drawn. He faced Trent. + +"I am informed that Sarojini Nanjee, with the aid of the Great Magician, +penetrated through the old passage into the Armory," he declared +quietly, "and that she plans to leave the city to-night--with you. I am +also told that she has led you to believe that you will travel to +India--while she secretly conspires to have you murdered after leaving +Shingtse-lunpo. This is for a twofold purpose, I understand. She wishes +to rid herself of your presence, so she may continue with the jewels to +Chinese Turkestan; and the other reason.... Well, I--er--believe there +is an old wrong which she wishes to avenge. Last night a messenger left +for India, with instructions from her to report to your Government that +you have fled across Tibet, presumably to Mongolia, with the +jewels--that you ran amuck, as it were." + +He parted the window-draperies with one hand, motioning to Trent with +the other. The Englishman got to his feet and joined him. + +"Observe those men," Hsien Sgam directed, indicating a group of soldiers +in the courtyard. "Within an hour they start for the ruined gateway of +the old fortifications on the edge of the marsh, outside the city. +Sarojini Nanjee must pass these ruins if she leaves Shingtse-lunpo, as +the road from the Great Magician's Gate leads directly to the old +gateway. There my men will wait. They have specific orders what to +do.... Sarojini Nanjee will attend to the Great Magician and thus +relieve me of that task." + +The curtain dropped into place. Trent was struggling with insurgent +thoughts.... Sarojini Nanjee--eleven o'clock.... Kerth.... Where was +he--and Dana Charteris?... He sorted from the many incoherences a +question that had been trembling on his tongue for the past half hour. + +"What of Chavigny?" he asked. + +"Chavigny?" Hsien Sgam repeated. "You will meet Chavigny before many +hours." + +Trent was possessed of a mad desire to laugh. Who was telling the truth, +Sarojini Nanjee or Hsien Sgam?... Chavigny, the celebrated Chavigny! + +"As I told you one night on shipboard," he heard the Mongol saying, "our +troops are good fighters, but untrained. They need a competent leader--a +tactician. Organization; training. Those are the necessary elements. And +they must be taught with the technique of modern warfare, by some one +who understands the mechanism of a great unit of men. If you will accept +that post, your title will be that of Commanding General. From +Shingtse-lunpo you will go into Inner Mongolia, where preparations are +under way to launch a big offensive. We have already taken a few +strides. On the fifth of this month Urga was captured and Ungern's +'White Guards' defeated. But without organized force all this work will +have been accomplished for nothing.... You will be well repaid for your +services. When I am Emperor of Mongolia I shall not forget." + +Trent's aggressive jaw was shot forward; but for that his expression was +unchanged. + +"You seem to forget I am an Englishman," he reminded. + +Hsien Sgam merely smiled. "Men have lost their identities before. +Sarojini Nanjee's messenger is on his way to India. That will account +for your absence to the Government." + +Trent looked almost amused. "A sort of birthright-for-a-mess-of-pottage +affair, isn't it?" + +"I do not comprehend"--thus the Mongol. + +Trent did not try to explain. He queried: "What if I prefer to do +otherwise than as you suggest?" + +"I am prepared against such a decision." That lurking smile returned. +"Na-chung, who is a very wise councillor, suspected that your _muleteer_ +was--er--not as you represented him--or, I should say, _her_. I ordered +an investigation.... That you were accompanied by a woman, evidently one +to whom you are--er--attached, was all I could have wished for.... I +acted. She has not been molested; nor will she be, if you accept the +terms which I have offered." + +Trent's nails dug fiercely into his palms. It was with an effort that he +kept his face in an expressionless mold. + +"And if I agree?" + +"She will be returned to India, unharmed and with the proper escort." + +"How can I be sure of that?" + +"She will write to you from Darjeeling." + +"You forget the councillor, Na-chung." + +"We shall find him," Hsien Sgam stated confidently. + +"Dead," Trent added. "He is hidden--hidden where you'll not easily find +him. My muleteers are there--with instructions--and if they have not +heard from me by midnight, they'll put an end to Na-chung." + +Hsien Sgam continued to smile. "You will countermand that order," he +said evenly. + +"No," declared Trent, quite as evenly. + +They faced each other for a space of seconds, neither speaking. Then the +Mongol announced: + +"If he is murdered, you will be charged with it and properly +punished"--he paused and finished effectively--"_after_ you have done +the work which I intend you shall do. Otherwise, at the conclusion of +the period of service you are free." + +A reckless impulse stormed the battlement of Trent's control. Hsien Sgam +seemed to sense it, for he spoke up. + +"Consider well, major. One pays for a moment's folly in the coin of +years." + +What passed in Trent's mind the next few moments no man ever knew; it is +doubtful if even Trent himself remembered afterward. His thoughts were +laved in poison.... He felt something of purgatorial fire--a burning of +brain and nerves. But in the heat was a sphere of starry luster--a face, +alone cool and composed in the midst of what seemed some terrific +volcanic disorder of the body. It was this luster that led him at length +to a decision. + +"There's no alternative." He heard his voice in a queer, separated +manner. "When I have proof that Miss Charteris has reached India, I will +do as you demand ... but...." + +"But if you have the opportunity," Hsien Sgam cut in, linking his +slender fingers and smiling, "you will furnish me with a passport to +that--er--sulphurous dominion which your Christian Bible threatens. Be +assured, major, I shall guard against any such--er--personal +catastrophe." + +Then he spoke to one of the soldiers, who immediately left the room. He +turned back to Trent. + +"We will go now--this very moment--to His Holiness, and--er--draw up the +contract, so to speak, in his auspicious presence. This visit to +Lhakang-gompa will serve a double purpose, for at the same time I shall +initiate you into the mysteries of '_Thatsang_,' or 'Falcon's Nest,' as +you would say it--the room where the Falcon planned the recent +activities in India. It will be necessary for you to ride to the +monastery; therefore, I must have your word of honor not to--er--commit +any act of violence that might force me to adopt an abortive policy." + +The soldier reappeared, holding aside the scarlet curtains. + +"You will precede me," directed Hsien Sgam, with a polite wave of his +hand, evidently enjoying the exquisite satire of the situation. + +Trent moved into the scarlet audience-chamber, followed by his +Transparency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo and his mailed bodyguard. + + +3 + +To Trent there was grim irony in that ride to Lhakang-gompa. Hsien +Sgam's vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair swayed along at his side, and in +front and rear was a file of leather-helmeted men. In a courtyard of the +great building (they rode up a stone causeway to reach it) the Mongol +left his sedan-chair and Trent dismounted. One of the soldiers took the +lead, Trent walking next, with Hsien Sgam and the other guards in the +rear--a formation whose strategic points the Englishman did not fail to +perceive. + +With their entrance into the lower halls of Lhakang-gompa the usual +smell of incense and putridity, a combination of odors peculiarly +Tibetan, assaulted their nostrils and clung as they climbed staircase +after staircase; as they plunged along lamp-lit corridors where lamas +moved like wraiths in the dimness; crossed courts and roofs, glimpsing +the stars and the white flame of a rising moon; and even when they +reached a heavily-carpeted, crimson-walled apartment that Hsien Sgam +informed Trent was the first ante-chamber of Sâkya-mûni's audience hall. +A large room, this, and occupied by several lamas who sat at +pearl-inlaid tables--chamberlains of the Yellow Pontiff. To one of these +cardinals Hsien Sgam spoke, and the former parted lacquered +sliding-doors and disappeared. + +"I am told that His Holiness has been indisposed to-day," Hsien Sgam +explained to Trent, "and has refused to see anyone, even his attendant +cardinals. However, the _Donyer-chenpo_ has gone to see if he will grant +us an audience." + +Trent showed little interest as they waited--but the pulse in his +throat was throbbing hotly. He watched with expressionless eyes the +lacquered doors from behind which the _Donyer-chenpo_, or chamberlain, +would reappear. And at length the cardinal came. The doors parted and he +stepped out, motioning to Hsien Sgam. The latter moved forward and held +a short conversation with the prelate, then nodded to Trent, who, with +the soldiers at his heels, joined them. + +"His Holiness has consented to see us"--this briefly from the Mongol. + +Beyond the lacquered doors was a stairway that took them into a chamber +similar to the one they had left. Two lamas were the only occupants, one +on either side of a great door covered with cerise and gold brocade and +ornamented with knobs of gold filagree. Here they exchanged their shoes +for soft black slippers, and here they left the soldiers. + +The _Donyer-chenpo_ pushed back the great door. They entered. Trent was +confused by darkness; then came a swishing sound, and a thin line of +light broadened into a triangle as draperies were pulled aside. + +The first impression, due to the vastness of the audience hall and the +dim glow of the butter-lamps, was one of space and gloom and mystery. A +double line of pillars strove toward a chain-spanned impluvium through +which stars were visible, and along the walls were idols and holy +vessels-brazen bowls and cymbals and incense-burners. Toward the rear, +at the end of the avenue of columns, was a raised portion of the floor, +covered with yellow silks. There, beneath a canopy and seated upon a +throne whose arms were carved lions, attended by the _Kuchar Khanpo_ and +the _Solen-chenpo_--state officials--was his Holiness, Sâkya-mûni, the +Grand Lama of Tibet. He wore the yellow mitre, yellow veil and yellow +vestments that Trent had seen at the Festival of the Gods, and his slim +hands rested motionless, as though wrought of bronze, upon the carved +lions of the throne. + +Hsien Sgam bowed low, whispering to Trent to do the same. As the latter +drew erect he saw that the _Donyer-chenpo_ had disappeared; the +following instant he heard the muffled sound of a closing door behind +him. + +Meanwhile, Sâkya-mûni motioned them forward, his yellow mitre nodding. + +"His Holiness means for us to be seated on the rugs below the +throne-daïs," said Hsien Sgam in a hushed voice. + +The two, Englishman and Mongol, took seats, cross-legged, upon the +carpets before the raised portion of the floor that supported the +pontifical throne. A thin voice sounded from under the veil.... + +"His Holiness bids you greeting," translated Hsien Sgam, "and prays that +the blessing of the Three Konchog be upon you. In return, I shall give +him your"--the shadow of a smile slid across the oblique +eyes--"your--er--felicitations." + +The two yellow-robed attendants then served tea in golden chalices. +Sâkya-mûni did not drink his, but blessed it and passed it to the +_Kuchar Khanpo_.... Incense brushed Trent's face, like a tangible +touch.... The ceremony of tea-drinking over, he waited restlessly for +the next move. + +The Grand Lama spoke in his thin voice to the attendants, who backed to +a corridor at one side of the audience-hall and vanished, leaving Trent +and Hsien Sgam alone with the Living Buddha.... Sâkya-mûni was murmuring +to himself--reciting a _mantra_, Trent imagined. There was something +checked and imminent in the solemn quiet.... + +Suddenly Sâkya-mûni ceased murmuring. He lifted one hand. Immediately +Hsien Sgam got to his feet, instructing Trent to do the same. The Grand +Lama rose, his yellow vestments shimmering faintly in the +cathedral-dusk. He spoke. Trent, who was watching the Mongol out of the +corner of his eye, saw a look of surprise dwell for a second in the +latter's face; saw Hsien Sgam produce from under his garments an object +that glinted like blue steel; saw him pass it to Sâkya-mûni. + +Then the reincarnation of Gaudama Siddartha removed mitre and veil with +one hand (he held the glinting object in the other) and stepped down +from the daïs--only it was not Sâkya-mûni who did this, but Euan Kerth +in the vestments of the Lamaist pontiff; Euan Kerth, smiling his satanic +smile and looking like some shaven-pated Mephistopheles. + + +4 + +The blood pulsed in Trent's temples. For once his stupefaction escaped +the citadel of his impassivity. Nor could Hsien Sgam control his +amazement. The Mongol stared--stared with the air of a man struggling to +grasp something beyond his ken of thought, beyond possibility. + +Kerth's voice broke the spell--proof to Trent that what he saw was no +sorcery of the eyes. + +"I'm not so sure our friend the Governor has no other firearms on his +person. Suppose you investigate, major." + +At the sound of the voice, a voice that spoke English, Hsien Sgam seemed +to awaken to a realization of the situation. Surprise was replaced by a +queer, half-dazed expression. + +"I have been without wits," he said, more to himself than to the others. +"I did not for a moment consider that there might be two--that...." +Words perished on his lips. His breathing was audible--the heavy +breathing of one suddenly stricken. He recovered enough to ask: "His +Holiness--what have you done to him? Have you--" + +"It's hardly my place to answer questions," drawled Kerth; "surely not +my intention." Then: "Go ahead, major." + +As Trent approached, Hsien Sgam lifted his hand. + +"Am I to be forced to submit to the indignity of being searched?" + +Neither Englishman answered, but Trent paused tentatively. + +"If I give my word," Hsien Sgam pursued, "that I am unarmed, will not +that be sufficient?" + +"No weapon of any sort?"--thus Kerth, while his eyes sought Trent. The +latter inclined his head slightly. + +"None." + +Something of the Mongol's poise and dignity had reasserted itself, and a +faint, illusive smile--an almost tolerant smile--touched his +woman's-mouth. His slender hands worked nervously. + +"I daresay I can guess your thoughts." Kerth, who was smiling, addressed +Hsien Sgam. "Your Transparency thinks I dare not use this,"--fingering +the steel trigger-guard--"but in that you are mistaken. You must +remember that whereas you are Governor, I am--well--" He touched the +yellow vestments. + +As Trent watched Hsien Sgam, an emotion almost of pity smote him. He +felt the titanic conflict within the Mongol, the power--warped +power--behind the Buddha-like face and the heretofore puzzling eyes +(eyes that were no longer puzzling, but that mirrored the raw look of +ancient evil, the bitter corrosion of disappointment); power that was +facing defeat. Dream of empire, of pomp and regal splendor, rusted, as +his every dream had done.... An unfinished vessel, this Hsien Sgam. +(Fragments of the Mongol's story played like illuminating shafts among +Trent's thoughts: the boy who wept for his father--who felt the +strangle-grip of a great gray Babylon--the celibate to whom the wine of +love turned stale.) The gift of life to Hsien Sgam had been ashes. All +this Trent saw in his eyes--eyes that stared ahead with sick +contemplation. + +And now Hsien Sgam moved. He clasped his lithe, feminine hands; he took +a few steps, slueing upon his twisted limb; paused; stood motionless; +made a gesture of resignation. + +"I am defeated," he declared in his soft voice, "but you will sink with +me. It is as though you had ventured into a web; the threads will tangle +you, and, like flies, you will hang there and die." + +Kerth smiled. "Your teeth are extracted, Transparency," he replied. He +removed another revolver from under his pallium, offering it to Trent. +"Major, I think we can talk with more ease if we go to my"--this with a +smile--"my apartments. There are certain matters I wish to discuss with +his Transparency, and I fear we might be interrupted here." + +He moved around the daïs, pausing by the yellow brocade that hung behind +the throne. + +"Suppose I walk first, then his Transparency, then you, major. I believe +that will prevent any complications." + +In the rear of the daïs, concealed by yellow draperies, was a door that +gave access to a stairway. Kerth took the lead, his robes dragging upon +the stone steps. The stairs mounted at a steep grade, broke their ascent +on three landings, and brought them into a small space, facing +coral-hued curtains. As Kerth gripped the center of the hangings, +preparatory to parting them, he looked around, over his shoulder and +Hsien Sgam's close-cropped head, at Trent. + +"Be prepared, major," he drawled. "This is '_Thatsang_' or, as we would +say it, 'Falcon's Nest.'" He laughed--a low, rather grim chuckle. "You +stand face to face with the secret of Lhakang-gompa." + +With that he jerked the draperies apart and the clink of the metal rings +from which they hung sent a slight shiver down Trent's spine. He stepped +between the curtains, Hsien Sgam preceding him. He found himself in a +long room. Its floor and walls were bare. At the far end, in an +alcove-like space, raised and sectioned off from the rest of the +apartment by a half-partition, was a bed. Yak-hair curtains partly hid +it--only partly, for they did not conceal the limbs and the crimson +garment of the body that lay upon the gold-fringed bed-robe. + +Kerth had crossed the room. Now Trent halted at the break of the +partition, Hsien Sgam at his side. + +The face of the sleeper (Trent knew by the fall and rise of his breast +that he was not dead) was Aryan, but the shape of the eyelids and brows +suggested that the eyes, when open, were oblique. Lips thin and +sensitive; features of an ascetic. The skull was high and shaven as bare +as if hair had never grown upon it; a white bandage covered the right +temple and sloped over the dome.... Trent lifted his eyes from the pale, +yellow features to Kerth, who, with a slight smile, answered the +inquisitive look. + +"Sâkya-mûni is the Falcon." + +Trent looked down upon the wasted features; looked up again. + +"He's been unconscious since noon to-day," Kerth explained. "This +morning I attended a ceremony in the audience-hall. While I was saying a +_mantra_, the idea occurred to me.... I crept into one of the corridors +off the hall and hid there. When the lamas had gone, Sâkya-mûni went +behind the curtains in the rear of the throne, with two attendants. Soon +the attendants reappeared ... and I went up. Unfortunately, in the +tussle he struck his head. I'm afraid he's done up rather badly. Take a +look, major. Meanwhile, Transparency"--his eyes fastened upon the +Mongol--"be seated--here." + +He indicated an armchair and Hsien Sgam sat down. Trent bent over +Sâkya-mûni.... After several minutes he straightened up. + +"It's a bad cut, but I can't tell much without a closer examination. He +has fever--pulse running up, too." + +Hsien Sgam rose. "Is it quite serious, Major Trent? Do you think--" + +"You will resume your seat, Transparency," ordered Kerth. The Mongol +obeyed. "Now, major, tell me just what has happened to-day--and if +you've learned anything about Miss Charteris." + +Trent briefly summarized the situation. Kerth nodded absently when he +had finished; fingered his revolver. + +"We're a bit scattered," he commented. Then, after a pause: +"Transparency, you will be good enough to say where you've hidden Miss +Charteris." + +Hsien Sgam sat like a carved Buddha; even his fingers ceased their +restless playing upon the arms of the chair. + +"If I refuse?" + +Kerth thrust forward the blue muzzle of the revolver. "There's to be no +parleying," he declared sternly, the smile gone from his face. "You've +lost. Now come through." + +After a moment Hsien Sgam said: + +"She is at my residence." + +"Good"--this from Kerth. "Before we leave you will write an order to +have her taken to whatever place we specify." Then, as though dismissing +that point as settled, he went on: "Hmm.... Quite scattered, I'd say: +She at his house; we here; Trent's men with Na-chung; Sarojini Nanjee +getting ready to leave; his Transparency's soldiers hidden at the ruined +gate,"--a pause--"with orders to shoot Sarojini Nanjee.... Hmm...." +Suddenly he smiled. "Excellent!... What's the hour, major?" + +Trent pulled back his long sleeve. "Five to ten." + +Kerth spoke to Hsien Sgam. "You will also send a guard to your men at +the ruins, withdrawing them--but, no--no--won't do. Ends must meet.... +We can't trust a messenger. And we must let Sarojini Nanjee leave the +city, as she's planned; for she has the jewels--yet--damn!" His forehead +crinkled into a frown. "Damn!" he repeated. "Ends _must_ meet!" + +Silence followed. Hsien Sgam did not stir. Once a faint sound, a +shuddering sigh, came from the alcove-like space. Kerth was the first to +speak, and his smile hinted that he had discovered a solution. + +"You may not wholly approve, major," he began, "yet I see no other way. +Why not go ahead and meet Sarojini Nanjee? Meanwhile, I'll have Miss +Charteris freed, and she, in company with myself and his Transparency, +can leave the city by the main gate and Amber Bridge. We'll reach the +ruined gateway before you and Sarojini pass the Great Magician's Gate, +which will give his Transparency time to forestall the soldiers and send +them back to the city. Then we can wait, there at the gateway, for you. +Sarojini may not be particularly pleased when she learns of my presence; +but if she acts up, we have his Transparency to testify that she +intended to do away with an officer of the empire. That ought to +simplify her case." + +"What of my muleteers?" Trent queried. "And Na-chung?" + +"Na-chung isn't to be considered. As for your men--I can get word to +them to meet us at the main gate. If there's trouble we can make good +use of them. Of course, there's a risk--more for you than for me. +Something might prevent us from reaching the soldiers in time, and--" + +Hsien Sgam interrupted. + +"You forget his Holiness. Will you leave him to die?" + +"Hardly," Kerth answered. "After all that's happened, I fancy the +Viceroy will be pleased to--to _entertain_ his Holiness.... No, we +sha'n't leave him to die. If all goes well, Major Trent and I can +arrange to return to Lhakang-gompa." + +"You think," said Hsien Sgam, "it will be easy to leave the city?" + +Kerth made a deprecatory gesture. "That is not difficult. I shall ride +in the sedan-chair of His Holiness Sâkya-mûni, and until we pass Amber +Bridge your Transparency will sit beside me to prevent any interference +with our plans. There you may change to a pony and ride between two of +the major's muleteers. Your own palanquin will be put to good use, as +Miss Charteris can occupy that. And after we leave Shing-tse-lunpo, then +to the South--Gyangtse--and into India." + +Hsien Sgam smiled--that smile of inscrutable irony. + +"You are only crawling deeper into the web," he asserted quietly. "It +will fall upon you and you will go--like that--" The lithe hands spread +out expressively. + +Kerth coolly returned his smile. "If we're caught, you'll perish with +us, in the same web. Threats are useless, Transparency. The scales have +tilted. And your attitude doesn't become a prisoner. We can carry out +our plans with you or without you, although much smoother with you. +Accept my ultimatum--_unconditional surrender_--or reject it." + +Hsien Sgam's lips twisted into that ineffaceable smile. His quiescence +was absolute. + +"You understand, if I thought my--my demise would prevent you from +executing your plans, I would not hesitate to--er--clog the machinery. +But it would be suicide without a purpose. Therefore, I can only +accept." + +"Unconditionally?" + +"Unconditionally." + +Hsien Sgam's chin sank into his breast. + +"Now, major, do you approve of my plan?" asked Kerth. "If so, we'll go +to the audience hall and I'll order the men to take you to your +residence, and his Transparency and I will despatch messengers for Miss +Charteris and your muleteers." + +Trent nodded. + +Kerth placed the mitre upon his head and let the veil fall over his +features. A blue steel eye glittered in the folds of his robes--an eye +that was focussed upon Hsien Sgam. + +"Come, Transparency!" + +Kerth leading, they left Falcon's Nest; left it with its silence and its +brooding secrets. + + +5 + +A few minutes later Kerth was seated on the throne of Sâkya-mûni (Trent +and Hsien Sgam stood on the red carpets before the daïs) and reaching +toward a gong that hung from one of the carved lions of the chair. +Following the mellow ring, the curtains in the other end of the chamber +parted to admit the _Donyer-chenpo_, who bowed and stood waiting. + +The thin voice sounded from under the yellow veil--a stream of Tibetan +words. Trent wondered, irrelevantly, if it was really Kerth who +spoke--Kerth of the satanic smile. + +And now he saw the yellow-robed figure motioning him to leave, and +backed slowly to where the _Donyer-chenpo_ stood; backed between the +parted draperies; and the curtains dropped, and he was in darkness. + +In the first ante-chamber the _Donyer-chenpo_ resumed his seat at the +nacre-inlaid desk, among the other cardinals, and Trent continued with +the soldiers. Back through the courts and corridors they went (each +glimpse of the stars brought to Trent a sweet recollection of another +lustrous pallor), and down the innumerable staircases. They emerged at +length into the courtyard where the horses were waiting; mounted; rode +out of Lhakang-gompa and down the causeway. + +Afterward, Trent could remember no single incident of that brief ride +from the lamasery; it was a panorama of moon and white walls and +darkness. The bewildering events of the past few hours had left him in a +state of mental confusion. The soldiers wheeled about at his gate, and +he rode into the deserted quadrangle alone. + +He was about to dismount when a shadow detached itself from the gloom of +the garden--the garden, with its flaming hollyhocks. (Odd that he should +think of flowers now!) It was the long-haired guide of the previous +night. He grunted what Trent supposed was a greeting, and caught the +bridle, guiding the pony back to the gate. Trent turned for a last look +at the dark dwelling--the house where he first partook of the lover's +eucharist. Then the Tibetan swung himself upon the pony, behind him, +clamping his knees upon the beast's flanks, and Trent inhaled the reek +of soiled clothing. + +Through familiar streets they clattered, and over a stone bridge toward +the city's ramparts. Few people were astir; dogs prowled in the lurking +shadows. The temple of the Great Magician had a ghostly semblance as +they approached it; its dome was spattered with moonlight, like a huge +anthill flecked with drippings of glow-paint. Something in the sight of +the bulk of masonry brought to Trent's mind what Sarojini Nanjee had +said.... + +They passed the temple. A narrow foot-path took them to the Great +Magician's Gate. As on the preceding night, there was no guard. When +Trent's pony was brought to a halt, the Tibetan made a gesture which +Trent interpreted to mean that he should stay there and slunk away along +the path to the temple. Trent glanced at his watch as the man left. + +To the north, in the maze of houses that lay flat and huddled beneath +the sovereign structure of Lhakang-gompa, a dog was howling. Another +answered it; another took it up; and the melancholy baying wavered from +roof to roof--a tuneless dirge. Irrelevantly, Trent thought of a +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair that by this time should be at the +ruined gateway. It was a sheer, breathless moment, a moment detached and +charged with exquisite suspense. + +The rattle of harness-chains drew him back to earth. His eyes swerved to +the path from the temple. After a moment, shadows took shape in the +moonlight--mounts and riders. He wheeled his pony and rode to meet the +caravan. + +Sarojini Nanjee sat erect upon a horse at the head of a string of mules; +the scent of sandalwood awakened in him a queer alertness. She always +breathed of earth-perfume--an odor of the senses. Beyond her were the +looming shapes of three men--muleteers. Trent saw the contours of sacks +on the pack-animals. + +"Your men have left the city?" was her first question. Her breath came +quickly and the black opals had been kindled in her eyes. + +He answered with a nod. + +She insinuated her hand into his; pressed his fingers. + +"We win!" she whispered. "You and I!" + +He smiled to himself, grimly. What Hsien Sgam had said was fresh in his +ears. One of her men passed and opened the gate. Outside, on the +embankment, she turned her mount, waiting at one side while the caravan +moved out. Trent reined in his pony beside her. + +"Look!" she commanded, pointing through the gate at the magnificent mass +of Lhakang-gompa, above whose broken roofs the moon was poised. +"Shingtse-lunpo--Lhakang-gompa--all! I hold them, like this!" And she +made a gesture and laughed--that old familiar laugh that rippled low in +her throat. "All is not finished! Nay! I promised you vengeance--and +to-night, in a few minutes, you shall know that I keep my promises!" + +Then she struck her horse in the flanks and dashed down the slope, to +the head of the caravan. Trent followed. Behind, the gate closed softly +and hoofs thudded in the mud of the road. + +"_To-night ... you shall know that I keep my promises!_" + +That rang in Trent's brain; rang and echoed and reeled away, and left +him to grope for the meaning. + +They rode on. Several times Sarojini Nanjee glanced over her shoulder. +The ruins above the tunnel were reached, passed. Ahead the road swerved +and lost itself in high rushes--rushes that swayed and sighed and +shivered. Trent's hand hovered close to his revolver. The flesh over his +spine crawled uncomfortably as they approached the end of the +marsh-belt. He strained his eyes, but saw only the fringed line of tall +reeds against the sky.... And now the white columns of the ruined +gateway loomed, broken sentinels guarding the half-buried remains of an +ancient fortification. + +They were within a few yards of the gateway when, ahead, a horse +whinnied. + +Trent's heart leaped into his throat, and Sarojini Nanjee swiftly reined +in her horse. Something gleamed in her hand. + +From behind the shattered walls appeared a horseman--a robed horseman, +phantom-like in the moonlight. Behind him rode another--another. They +were fairly vomited through the gateway. Trent recognized Kerth at the +head, Kee Meng and Hsaio behind. + +The thing in Sarojini's hand coughed, and the red glare of discharged +powder momentarily stained the darkness. But none of the three horsemen +faltered. Before she could fire again Trent gripped her mount's bridle +and dug his heels into his own pony. They plunged forward, side by side. +He was almost dragged from the saddle, but he managed to remain +seated--to cling to the bridle of Sarojini's horse. When they were +outside the broken gate he jerked both animals to a standstill. Melted +fire-opals blazed in the woman's eyes. But he had her revolver. + +"You fool!" + +Vitriol was in her voice--but he heard her only in a detached way, for +he saw, swimming in the moonlight behind the wall, a sedan-chair, and in +it the pale oval of a face. It was in the midst of mules and packs and +several mounted men. Hsien Sgam was there, in the saddle, between two +muleteers. Kerth, Kee Meng and Hsiao had drawn rein in the gateway, thus +separating Sarojini Nanjee from her caravan. + +This, a quick negative, snapped and printed upon Trent's brain. + +From him the woman's eyes moved around the group--past Kerth, past the +muleteers and the sedan-chair--to Hsien Sgam. + +"You did this!" Her words stung with venom, and her eyes traveled back +swiftly to Trent. "Perhaps he fooled you into betraying me--_but ask him +why he wanted you to believe Chavigny alive and see, then, if you want +him as your ally_!" + +A moment of tenseness followed--a moment that seemed to lengthen into a +dead interval of time. The very world ached with dumbness, ached and +waited. Hsien Sgam, who sat stooped upon his pony, was the first to +speak. + +"Major Trent, you wish to know who murdered your friend. Sarojini Nanjee +did it. But not with her own hand...." His words were like smooth +pellets emerging from vats of molten metal. "I loved her," the Mongol +declared; "loved her ... and I went to Gaya, to your house, when I +learned of her interest in you.... And there I made a fatal mistake--" + +His words were buried as a muffled detonation ruptured the quiet. An +abrupt shock quivered the ground. Eyes swerved to the source of sound. +For an infinitesimal moment the very universe seemed to hang in dreadful +suspense; then came two violent throbs, like the blows of a seismic +hammer. A terrific roar was born out of the womb of inter-stellar +silence--a roar that smote the eardrums of those who heard, that pressed +ponderously against the heart and whipped the blood into throat and +nostrils and eyes. + +From the towering mass of Lhakang-gompa rose a quick glare that stabbed +up, sank, and with it the roofs and walls of the monastery.... Smoke +belched upon the sky. The earth shook. The very stars seemed dim with +dread, and a wraith of nebulous black veiled the face of the moon. It +was as though the gigantic machinery of a planet had been suddenly +crippled. + +The hush that followed seemed to pluck from Trent's lungs the power to +breathe. He thought the ground still heaved, that the rumbling was still +pouring about his ears.... He was a pigmy in the midst of some cosmic +disorder.... His pony snorted and trembled violently. For a space of +seconds no one spoke; no one dared. All looked toward the cloud that was +settling, doom-black, over what had been Lhakang-gompa, over the seamed +and broken heart of Shingtse-lunpo!... And then came a soft, repressed +voice--a herald of earth recalling them to its dominion after some awful +furlough. + +"Sarojini Nanjee is very clever. I should have known better than to +oppose a woman." + +A rattling laugh broke from Hsien Sgam, a laugh that was punctuated by a +crash. Trent, turning, saw a rapier of corrosive flame leap from the +Mongol's hand; saw it reflect hideously upon the features of Sarojini +Nanjee. He sought to catch her, but she slipped from the saddle.... Her +face stared up at him from a pool of black hair. + +Again the rattling laugh--as the muleteers lunged at Hsien Sgam; again +the crash and the rapier of corrosive flame, a broken rapier, that sank +its hot shaft into the Mongol's own breast.... He hung limp between the +muleteers, and a shining thing dropped from his hand to the ground. But +his eyes were open. Trent saw them; Kerth, who had dismounted, saw them. + +"I regret that I killed your friend, Major Trent"--the Mongol spoke in a +stricken voice--"I regret, too, that I was forced to close the lips of a +native who appeared at an inopportune time. It is unpardonable, major, +that I stabbed this Captain Manlove--instead--of you." + +Then he swayed; fell forward upon the neck of his mount. He was still +alive when Trent reached him, but the Buddha-like face seemed shrunken +and the oblique eyes, revealed by the searching brilliance of the +moonlight, were half closed with pain. He smiled in a twisted, grotesque +manner. + +"Mysteries are exquisite things, major," he whispered. "Consider how +delightful it--it will be, in years to come, to--to wonder whether +Chavigny ... ah, _Shinje_!... whether he was killed in Delhi, as +Sarojini claims, or died in--in Lhakang-gompa; and to wonder if she +really meant to--to murder you, or if I--I lied--" He laughed softly. +"You have heard of the scorpion, major, who, surrounded, stings himself +to death...." + +They had to lift him from the pony, and Trent, looking down upon the +huddled body, knew it did not belong to the boy who went forth from +Mongolia with the dream of a messiah shining in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +GYANGTSE + + +Late afternoon of the seventeenth day, and ahead, against the brazen +furnace of the sunset, the battlements of Gyangtse. Trent straightened +up in his saddle as he saw the town rise above the ochre hills. +Gyangtse! From there the Chumbi Valley, the passes of Sikkhim, and down +into tropical India! But Gyangtse meant more than that to him.... Like +the frail filament of a dream was the memory of the journey from +Shingtse-lunpo--dust and bitter winds; smoke of campfires in the +nostrils; and in his heart a cavernous doubt. It was this doubt that fed +upon his nerve-tissues, not the travel. And Gyangtse meant that it would +end. He would be lifted to lofty spheres, or.... + +Now, as the town unfolded in the sunset, he looked at Dana Charteris, +who rode near him--rode in silence, staring ahead. (Thus she had ridden +for those seventeen days--in silence and staring ahead, a wintry +coolness freezing the warmth from her eyes.) Tears trembled upon her +lashes. + +The road took them under a bastion and toward the gate. When they were +yet some distance away a uniformed figure, mounted and followed by +turbaned Gurkhas, clattered out to meet them. + +"Cavendish! The District Agent!" + +Kerth, who was riding ahead with the muleteers and the grain-sacks, +called back these words to Trent and the girl. + +The uniformed figure had drawn up--a tanned young man, with the mark of +a helmet-strap running across each cheek and a lonely hungering in his +eyes. He was laughing and shaking hands with Trent; then he touched his +helmet as he saw Dana Charteris. + +They were guided into a compound where marigolds kindled a warmth +against white walls. Servants with weathered, smiling faces appeared +from the house, sticking out their tongues in greeting. + +But Trent found a poignant sharpness in this welcome, for the +winter-light in the eyes of Dana Charteris had chilled him to the soul. + + +2 + +A bath in a collapsible canvas tub; clean clothing; dinner in a +high-ceilinged, cool room; and, afterward, Trent, Kerth and the young +Agent talking, over cigars. + +Dana Charteris had slipped away soon after the meal, and the room seemed +barren to Trent. He scarcely heard his two companions, and sat nervously +fingering the arm of the chair and blowing smoke into the air. When he +could no longer endure it he begged to be excused and went to the room +assigned to him, where he got from his pack a certain object and thrust +it into his pocket. + +In the compound he encountered a Gurkha.... Yes, he had seen the +memsahib, the soldier replied; he heard her order one of the sahib's +muleteers to saddle her pony and she went toward Pal-khor Choide. + +Trent followed. + +He had passed the crimson walls of the lamasery before he saw her--a +slender shadow ahead in the dusk. He urged his pony into a canter, and +presently slackened pace beside her. She had not turned, but now the +brown eyes were directed upon him and he felt a polar coldness in the +look. For a moment his voice refused to answer his summons. + +"Dana--" he faltered. "Why did you run away, like this?" + +She smiled--not the smile he knew, that awakened a golden memory of +autumn forests and cathedral spaces. + +"I wanted to be alone. Why did you follow?" + +From his pocket he drew a glinting bracelet. In the dusk she saw the +cobra-head lifted in bizarre relief. It seemed to strike into her heart. + +"To give you this;"--his voice was low, trembling--"to tell you that I +cannot be your--your bracelet-brother longer." He seemed to drink +courage from those first words and plunged ahead. "Back there in Burma, +at the jungle camp, I promised myself that until we reached civilization +I'd remain the--the brother; and now...." He extended the bracelet. +"Won't you accept it?" + +The winter-light faded suddenly from her eyes; they shone with a new +illumination. With its coming, the chill in his heart thawed; the early +night was aromatic and healing. (Overhead a few stars were caught in the +gauzy dusk, like dewdrops in a web.) Her fingers closed about the +bracelet. + +"I've been so foolish!" she whispered, in a choked voice. "Oh, so +childish and small--while you've been big and fine and strong. Arnold +Trent, forgive me! I thought because--because you didn't speak; because +you didn't tell me of what I saw in your eyes--back there in +Burma--that, like _Sentimental Tommy_, the glamour tarnished when you +touch it--that you were just--play-acting--and, because the adventure +was over, you--you...." She swallowed, then finished: "Oh, I've been +such a foolish _Grizel_!" + +... When they rode back into Gyangtse the distant, purple-black spurs of +the Himalayas were swimming in the pallid luster poured from a flagon +moon. + + +3 + +Serpents of tobacco smoke writhed in the room where Euan Kerth and the +young District Agent had been talking since dinner; spiraled about the +two tanned faces and dissolved, as if by magic, leaving a thin grayish +haze. + +"... If anyone else had told me that, Euan Kerth," said the young +officer, breaking a long silence, "I wouldn't believe it!... And they're +in those sacks! No wonder you wanted a dozen Gurkhas to guard 'em! Gad! +Of course I'll lend you an escort! Why, if it were learned that we had +'em, here in this house, we'd be murdered before midnight! But go on, +man, finish your story." + +Kerth resumed. The golden roofs of Lhakang-gompa lived in his words; +Shingtse-lunpo, with its maze of whitewashed houses. Another long +silence followed when he finished. The serpents of smoke still crawled +and lolled in the air. Cavendish spoke. + +"Kerth, I wonder--" He broke off; the lonely hungering in his eyes was +clouded by an expression of bewilderment. He cleared his throat; +laughed. "Of course, it can't be so, but.... Well, about six months ago +an old lama was sick in the Jong. They brought him to me, on a litter, +just before he died--at his request. He told me something queer. He said +that Lhassa was no longer the political center of Tibet, and that the +man in the Potala was not the Dalai Lama, but a priest posing +as the Dalai Lama. He said the real Dalai Lama was in another +monastery--somewhere toward Mongolia--that there...." Again he broke +off; laughed. "But of course there can't be anything to it." + +And Euan Kerth, his face dimmed by the smoke from his cheroot, smiled +his satanic smile. + +"No, of course," he repeated, "there can't be anything to it." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Caravans By Night, by Harry Hervey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARAVANS BY NIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 34813-8.txt or 34813-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/1/34813/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Caravans By Night + A Romance of India + +Author: Harry Hervey + +Release Date: January 1, 2011 [EBook #34813] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARAVANS BY NIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>Caravans By Night</h1> + +<h3>A ROMANCE OF INDIA</h3> + +<h2>BY HARRY HERVEY</h2> + + +<h3>GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</h3> + +<h3>Made in the United States of America</h3> + +<h3>Copyright, 1922, by<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Century Co.</span></h3> + +<h3>PRINTED IN U. S. A.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"... Weave me a tale of Romance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and Adventure—weave it on the loom of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Asia; fine threads in the shuttle ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">that we who only read may feel the glare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and glamour of those spicy, sweating<br /></span> +<span class="i0">cities; may feel the sheer spell of the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">and the far spaces at dusk ..."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h3><span class="smcap">This Word-Tapestry is Woven for</span><br /> +MY MOTHER</h3> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I <span class="smcap">The Edge of the Ripple</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II <span class="smcap">Delhi</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III <span class="smcap">A Piece of Coral</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV <span class="smcap">House of the Swaying Cobra</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V <span class="smcap">Interlude</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI <span class="smcap">Hsien Sgam</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII <span class="smcap">The Vermilion Room</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII <span class="smcap">"Beyond the Moon"</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX <span class="smcap">Fever</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X <span class="smcap">Caravan</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI <span class="smcap">City of the Falcon</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII <span class="smcap">Lhakang-gompa</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII <span class="smcap">Falcon's Nest</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV <span class="smcap">Gyangtse</span></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CARAVANS BY NIGHT</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>THE EDGE OF THE RIPPLE</h3> + + +<p>If you go to the Great Bazaar, which lies west of the Old Palace at +Indore, you will see him sitting upon a cushion in his alcove-like shop, +a very magnificent figure in flowing robes and gold-edged turban.</p> + +<p>You will find him busy, whether you visit the bazaar in mid-morning or +in the afternoon; or even after sunset, when lamps embroider the +lacework of lanes and alleys.</p> + +<p>He is an amiable fellow and he will talk for hours—of silks, of jewels +(for in those luxuries he deals), or still more eloquently of Peshawar, +where the blue peaks of the Hindu Kush let their lips caress the sky as +though it were the cheek of some siren. But mention the barbarian with +corn-colored hair, or the blue-eyed Punjabi, and he will suddenly become +as uncommunicative as the tongueless <i>fakir</i> who sits before the Anna +Chuttra and mutely pleads for alms.</p> + +<p>For once, at a time not long past, a mysterious hand reached out of +nowhere and touched him with two equally as mysterious fingers. The +barbarian with corn-colored hair was one finger, the blue-eyed Punjabi +the other. And as swiftly, as inexplicably, as it came, this hand +withdrew—but not without leaving its mark upon the memory of Muhafiz +Ali, merchant and loyal servant of the Raj.</p> + +<p>For ten years before that day when he felt the first impelling wave of +intrigue his shop was a haunt for tourists and wealthy residents; for +ten years he divided his days between salaaming to customers, cooking +his meals over a cow-dung fire in the rear, and staring across the +roadway with visible contempt at his despised rival, Venekiah, the +Brahmin. For all those years Muhafiz Ali had hated Venekiah as only a +Mussulman can hate one who wears the trident of Vishnu painted on his +forehead. But of late there was another sore that festered deep in his +heart and hour by hour fed his rancor with poison. His one son had dared +the horrors of an unknown sea (oh, a thousand times larger than Back +Bay, Bombay, the only water Muhafiz Ali can offer by way of comparison) +on a troop-ship, and in a strange country, where monstrous metal things +howled destruction and death, the parts of his only-born were buried—by +Christian hands and in a Christian grave!... While Venekiah's son, who +never stirred from the bazaar when the sounds of India responding to the +Sirkar's call rumbled from Kabul down to the Gulf of Manaar, lived and +walked the streets to talk Swaraj and curse the Sirkar and everything +bred of the Sirkar!</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali came from the North, from Peshawar, and the sultry, +throbbing heat of Central India dried up the life in his veins. He +longed for the sight of his brother-hillmen swaggering through the +Bokhara Bazaar, at Peshawar; for the smell of camels (perfume to a +Peshawari) clinging to the chilly dusk. He hoped some day to have enough +rupees to board one of those terrifying, though thoroughly convenient, +iron demons that he frequently saw panting in the railway station and +ride back to Peshawar, where he would dwell for the rest of his earthly +days in a house with a garden and an azure-necked peacock that strutted +and shrilled like an angry Rajput.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, to this end he sat daily in his shop, not shrieking at +prospective customers with "Please buy my nicklass!" like that offspring +of the sewer across the way, but waiting with the dignity befitting a +son of the Prophet for those who came to buy. And many came. For the +fame of his silks (bales from Bokhara frail as spun moonlight and the +raw sheeny stuff from Samarkand) had spread through the Residency and +haunted every Memsahib and Ladyship who once allowed herself to be +enticed into his felt-floored treasure-room.</p> + +<p>But his fame lay not only in silks. In formidable chests in the inner +room were many necklaces and ornaments—stones precious and +semi-precious, and even paste. He was a lapidary and had once served in +the establishment of a great jeweller in Delhi. It required but a single +glance for him to find the matrix in falsely beautiful gems, or to +appraise any sort of stone from diamonds down to chalcedony. Even his +Highness the Maharajah had heard of his skill in cutting and setting +jewels, and on two occasions had given him commissions.</p> + +<p>On this particular day when the mysterious hand was very close, and +Destiny had placed a chalk-mark upon a certain young woman and an +officer of the empire, his hatred for Venekiah swelled to such +proportions that it included every one; it quivered against the walls of +his being, hot as the Indian sun that throughout the noonday blazed +above the sweltering bazaar. Nor did his rage cool when, toward sundown, +lilac shadows lounged in the street and a hundred-hued swarm jostled by.</p> + +<p>The cause of his anger was a Sulaimaneh ring, which he wore at all +times. Now it is an established fact in the social orbit in which +Muhafiz Ali revolved that these onyx stones will repel devils; +therefore, to lose such a talisman is to invite misfortune. And Muhafiz +Ali had lost his Sulaimaneh ring. Furthermore, he suspected that his +enemy, Venekiah, had stolen it from his finger while he slept—although +for a Brahmin to touch a Mussulman is to defile himself. Yet he felt +that that heap of offal, to speak in the vernacular of the bazaars, +would suffer contamination to see him at the mercy of devils.</p> + +<p>So he sat and glared, and swore all manner of Moslem oaths under his +beard, and stopped hating only long enough to look toward the kindling +west beyond which Mecca lay, and prostrate himself on a rug for evening +prayer.</p> + +<p>As he lifted his eyes they encountered a Sahib with corn-colored hair +and beard; a Sahib who stood not a yard away; who fanned himself with a +pith-helmet, and looked upon the Mussulman's religious performances with +a slightly cynical smile.</p> + +<p>He was handsome, as these white unbelievers go, observed Muhafiz Ali. +The eyes smiled with the assurance of one who knows a lot and is aware +of his wisdom. Rather reckless eyes. His skin was tanned and the light +hair and beard (beard because the word "Van Dyke" is not in Muhafiz +Ali's vocabulary) made it more pronounced. White linens completed the +picture.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali, his rage dissolving, salaamed.</p> + +<p>"You're Muhafiz Ali, the lapidary?"</p> + +<p>The Mussulman detected in his speech a flaw that suggested he was not an +English Sahib; probably American, or from one of those numerous +countries behind the sunset, of which he had heard little and knew less.</p> + +<p>"Not only a jeweller, Sahib," he returned, for he spoke English +fluently, "but a dealer in silks, rugs—"</p> + +<p>But the man brushed past him and entered the inner room. Muhafiz Ali +rose and clattered after him in his loose Mohammedan slippers.</p> + +<p>"Do you have jade?" asked the sahib.</p> + +<p>For answer Muhafiz Ali lifted the lid of a brass-bound chest and drew +forth a tray of necklaces—lustrous, creamy-green jade from Mirzapore.</p> + +<p>"Not that kind," said the sahib, with a gesture (and had Muhafiz Ali +known the meaning of the word, "Gallic" he would have applied it to that +quick wave of the hand); "the clear sort."</p> + +<p>Whereupon the Mussulman separated a string of genuine <i>fei tsui</i> from +several necklaces in another tray. The stones glowed deep parrot-green.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" This from the white man. "Do you have pearls, too—imitation +pearls?"</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali, somewhat disappointed, produced a necklace of his finest +false pearls, and the sahib examined it with the air of one who knew the +difference between the nacreous sea-jewel and blown spheres of <i>essence +d' Orient</i>.</p> + +<p>"Are you alone?" was his next question.</p> + +<p>"Alone?" echoed Muhafiz Ali. "Alas, O worthy lordship, my son, my +only—"</p> + +<p>"No, no!"—with that quick gesture and a significant look toward the +rear door. "I mean, is there any one in the back of the shop?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, Sahib!"</p> + +<p>A germ of suspicion took birth in Muhafiz Ali's brain. What did this +foreigner want?</p> + +<p>"You have done work for his Highness the Maharajah, I understand," said +the sahib, his eyes glittering like black chalcedony. "You re-set +several necklaces, and ... you made a copy of the Pearl Scarf ... for, +well, for state purposes—didn't you?"</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali answered in the affirmative, still suspicious. The sahib +glanced over his shoulder into the swiftly gathering dusk.</p> + +<p>"Could you make another copy, using stones like this?"</p> + +<p>For some inexplicable reason Muhafiz Ali felt frightened. The eyes that +looked so incisively into his did not match the young face. He had seen +the same expression, only more intense, in the eyes of a mad <i>mollah</i>.</p> + +<p>"Could you?" pressed the sahib, "or, rather, <i>would</i> you? For an extra +gift of thirty rupees?"</p> + +<p>Thirty rupees! Muhafiz Ali's commercial instincts led him into +planning.... But the Pearl Scarf. Why did he want a copy? The germ of +suspicion grew and multiplied.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Sahib!" he answered, his better judgment outbalancing the desire +for money. "I do not remember how."</p> + +<p>"That's a pretty lie," interposed the man, with a laugh—a laugh that +carried a cold undercurrent and made Muhafiz Ali shudder, inwardly. "You +know the exact number of pearls in the scarf and how they are arranged; +nine strands; with eighteen pearls in the neck-piece-clasp, each having +a carat diamond inset in it. Come now—I will raise the extra amount to +thirty-five rupees."</p> + +<p>Thirty-five! The Mussulman's imagination took wings. He saw himself +coming into what was to him fabulous wealth.</p> + +<p>"The pattern is intricate, Sahib," he said doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I'll risk it." Again that laugh.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali felt vaguely nervous. "I will have to think it over, Sahib," +he announced.</p> + +<p>What did he want with a copy of the Pearl Scarf? That query threaded +back and forth across his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I am in the service of the Raj," the man confided quietly, as though +answering the native's thoughts—confided a shade too darkly. "The Raj +wants a copy of it—oh, for reasons...."</p> + +<p>Ah! Muhafiz Ali understood now. The Raj! This handsome sahib was of that +invisible army that comes and goes so mysteriously from Afghanistan to +Ceylon.</p> + +<p>"It is, O fountain of wisdom," he declared, with a sly wink, "as though +I stepped from the dark into the light of the sun!" He motioned toward +the door, through which Venekiah, seated across the way, could be seen. +"I shall be as mute as the six-armed she-devil that yonder louse +worships!"</p> + +<p>There was a humorous gleam in the white man's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Excellent! Make your price and come to me at the dâk bungalow at eight +o'clock to-night. Bring a few necklaces for effect. I will be on the +veranda. My name is Leroux Sahib."</p> + +<p>He tossed several rupees upon one of the chests, and turned and went +out.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali, reflecting that Allah looked with favor upon him, gathered +up the coins. And this, after he had lost the Sulaimaneh ring! Pah! +Ill-fortune, indeed! He scoffed.</p> + +<p>He was so pleased that, a few minutes later, when a blue-eyed Punjabi +inquired the price of a string of <i>ferozees</i>, he did not haggle over it +but sacrificed the necklace for exactly what it was worth.</p> + +<p>"Eight o'clock," he repeated to himself. And his own price. He was a +loyal servant of the Raj, yes; but that did not in any way affect his +intention to charge the Raj well for his services.</p> + +<p>He looked toward the shop of Venekiah.</p> + +<p>"Brahmin dog!" he hissed in his beard. "Breeder of whelps!"</p> + +<p>And he spat eloquently.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>Night wove its shuttle across the sky, beading the dusk with stars. The +Southern Cross lay mirrored in the Sarasvati and the Khan, and in the +lake at Sukhnewás; it pulsed above the gardens of Lal Bagh, above +Sharifa Street and those other narrow highways that vein the Holkar's +capital; it peered down inquisitively into the gloom of the Great Bazaar +as Muhafiz Ali, having finished a meal of curry and rice, quitted his +shop and hurried toward the dâk bungalow.</p> + +<p>That this Leroux Sahib had commissioned him to copy a jewel-pattern of +the Maharajah's regalia no longer presaged evil in his mind. Nor did he +seek an explanation. True, it mystified him. But there were some things +one should not know. And, to him, the secrets of the Government were +numbered among these. The Raj had banished the old order of things, for +no more did princes sit in golden howdahs upon caparisoned state +elephants; nor did they indulge, as of old, in the venerable pastime of +pigsticking; they rode in automobiles and played a game on horseback +with an absurd ball....</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali had ceased long ago to wonder at the baffling mechanism of +the Government, and satisfied himself with the assurance that Allah did +not intend he should understand.</p> + +<p>So Raj meant Riddle.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When he reached the dâk bungalow he found Leroux Sahib sitting upon the +veranda. The white man led him inside.</p> + +<p>"Well?"—this with a gleam of the black eyes.</p> + +<p>"I will do it, O cherisher of the poor."</p> + +<p>"The price?" The Mussulman named an outrageous figure—and held his +breath. The man inquired:</p> + +<p>"How long will it take?"</p> + +<p>"Seven days; perhaps less."</p> + +<p>The sahib frowned, tugged at his yellow beard.</p> + +<p>"I must have it in five days."</p> + +<p>"Impossible, O Burra Sahib!" A pause. "Unless—of course—"</p> + +<p>A smile. "Not another rupee do you get, you old brigand!" he declared +good humoredly. "And five days, I say. Settled? Thirty-five rupees extra +when it is done, half the price in advance."</p> + +<p>He drew from his pocket a wallet and counted out a number of Government +of India notes.</p> + +<p>"Remember, this is to be quiet," he cautioned. "I will call now and then +to see how you are coming on."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>As Muhafiz Ali made his way back to the bazaar, he congratulated himself +upon getting so easily the price he had set upon the work, and regretted +that he had not inflated it a little more. However, he was well pleased +with the day's business. He paused once on the homeward journey to place +a four-anna bit in the bowl of an emaciated, ash-painted <i>fakir</i> who sat +before the alms-house, and arrived at his shop in a state of excellent +spirits.</p> + +<p>He made a light and opened the chest in which he kept his necklaces. The +instant he saw the top tray he detected a flaw. Unlike most merchants, +he was very careful in the arrangement of his necklaces; in one tray +were agates, in another blue sapphires; thus with all his beads.</p> + +<p>And a string of creamy-luster Mirzapore jade lay in the tray with the +clear, deep-green <i>fei tsui</i>.</p> + +<p>A cold suspicion uncoiled in his brain. He stood motionless. This could +mean but one thing: some one had entered his shop while he was away. He +quickly counted the necklaces. None were missing. Nor did a hasty +inventory of the lower tray show that anything had been removed. The +other chests were under the protection of European padlocks.</p> + +<p>Who had entered his shop, and why? Nothing had been stolen. The door was +locked.... But the rear! Ah! The court! Why had he not thought to +barricade that also against thieves? But had a thief disturbed the +beads? A thief would have taken them. After all, was not it possible +that he had placed the necklaces in the wrong tray? Possible, but not +probable. No, he was certain a hand other than his own had dropped the +jade from Mirzapore in with the <i>fei tsui</i> stones.</p> + +<p>Yet, he told himself, he had not been robbed. So why be uneasy? But he +could not rid himself of the uncanny suspicion that devil-business was +afoot. He would feel more secure had he not lost the Sulaimaneh ring.</p> + +<p>Upon an impulse he went to the door and peered into the street. The shop +of Venekiah, the Brahmin, was dark. From a nautch-house close by came +the muffled throbbing of tom-toms—a restless pulse of the night. A man +in a Punjabi head-dress lounged under a rheumy incandescent further +along the dim street.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali turned back, gravely troubled. He locked the door.</p> + +<p>Of a certainty devil-business was afoot.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>A film of dust wavered over the bazaar and introduced a drowsy golden +effect into the mid-afternoon atmosphere. Few human beings ventured +forth in the glare. A half-naked <i>bhisti</i> splashed water over the dusty +roadway; at one corner a street-juggler sat with a torpid python coiled +in his lap.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali, absorbed in utter languor, squatted upon a brocade of light +and shadow woven by the sunlight that filtered through the dust-laden +leaves of a tree outside his doorway and watched a green-bronze lizard +drowsing upon the flagstones. The slumberous atmosphere of the bazaar, +the mingled odors of fruit, fish and cologne, held no portent of the +thunderbolt that very shortly was to jar Muhafiz Ali out of his peaceful +sphere.</p> + +<p>Five days had passed since he visited Leroux Sahib at the dâk bungalow. +The copy of the Pearl Scarf was finished; it lay in a chest in the inner +room. He had despatched the son of Khurrum Lal, the fruit vender, with a +<i>chit</i> to the sahib telling him this, and the sahib had answered that he +could call after nightfall.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali felt singularly relieved. For the past few days the +Mohammedan equivalent of the sword of Damocles had hung over his head. +The white man had called several times, and on each occasion the sight +of him reassured Muhafiz Ali, but after his departure the native +invariably relapsed into a state of nervous anticipation.</p> + +<p>Now it was done. To-night the sahib would call and he, Muhafiz Ali, +would settle back into an untroubled existence—many rupees the better. +He felt peace upon him already. So he sat in the doorway of his shop and +contemplated the green-bronze lizard, and breathed, almost with relish, +the mingled odors of fruit and fish and cologne.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali had in him the makings of a psychic. He anticipated +happenings with amazing accuracy. Therefore, when a shadow fell upon the +roadway in front of him and he looked up to see Mohammed Khan, the money +lender, he felt a pall descend upon him. Mohammed Khan, bearded and +turbaned to exaggeration, frequently came to indulge in bazaar gossip. +With a word of greeting, he sank upon the doorstep beside his +brother-Mussulman.</p> + +<p>He had startling news this day. Sadar Singh, who belonged to the Indian +Escort of the Agent, had come to pay the fifteen rupees he owed him, and +Sadar Singh, who never lied, had that very morning heard the Residency +Surgeon talking with the Commissioner Sahib. The substance of their +conversation was that there had been a robbery at the palace. The vaults +had been looted of the state treasures. The famous Peacock Turban was +stolen.... And <i>the Pearl Scarf</i>.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali's brain did not function normally for some time after this +announcement. He felt frightened—nauseated.</p> + +<p>The Pearl Scarf stolen. Suppose the copy was found in his possession, +and the police, who had strange ways, connected him with the robbery? +The house in Peshawar dwindled; he saw the jail looming before him. He +was innocent, but how could he explain?</p> + +<p>He remembered vividly the incident of the jade necklace. Could it be +that Venekiah, that mountain of corruption, had spied upon him?... O +Allah, Allah, he wailed in silence, it was written that his lot should +be misfortune from the moment he lost the Sulaimaneh ring!</p> + +<p>Inwardly, he writhed while Mohammed Khan talked on. He was in no mood +for more gossip, but Mohammed Khan stayed—stayed until late afternoon +when little spirals of dust began to rise from the street, when clouds +materialized out of nowhere and blotted out the sun.</p> + +<p>After Mohammed Khan took his leave, Muhafiz Ali tried to reason with +himself. The sahib had said the scarf was for the Raj, and was not that +assurance enough? No. And he strove to press behind the veil and find an +explanation for the affair; but his Kismet decreed that he should be a +pawn, and he dug at the mystery in vain.</p> + +<p>A dark sky, threatening rain, hastened the dusk; and when, one by one, +lights appeared in the street, like yellow sentinels, Muhafiz Ali +uttered a sigh of relief and rose and entered the shop. A moment later +he heard a soft patter and inhaled the fresh, cool smell of rain upon +dusty air.</p> + +<p>"Please buy my nicklass!" shrilled Venekiah's voice, and he looked over +his shoulder to see a Memsahib clatter by on horseback.</p> + +<p>Behind her walked a man in a Punjabi head-dress, swinging along at a +leisurely gait despite the rain.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>The usual heavy downpour following a break in the monsoon drenched the +bazaar. It came with a high wind, and doors strained at their locks and +windows rattled as legions of rain rode through the streets. The torrent +rumbled upon tin roofs and roofs of corrugated iron; reduced the dust in +alleys to mud; lashed the thirsty, sun-scorched trees.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali sat on a cushion in the inner room of his shop with a copy +of the Koran open in his lap, more intent upon the eerie sounds than the +book. Frequently his eyes left the pages and sought the door as gusts of +wind smote its panels, and when sudden draughts made the lamp-flame +flicker and sent the shadows shuddering over the walls, a chill dread +spread through him. Not until that accursed thing of imitations had been +taken away would he feel safe. Surely the devils were hard besetting him +for losing the Sulaimaneh ring!</p> + +<p>The door shook—as though impatient with the lock and hinges that held +it. Outside, the storm wrung wails and groans from the bazaar. Again the +door rattled, furiously.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali set aside the book, rose and crossed the room. He unlocked +the door. A spray was blown into his face. No one was there. Rain poured +over the street-lamps in gauzy, iridescent ribbons; it wove spumy lace +upon the black roadway and trailed, fuming, into the gutters.</p> + +<p>He shut the door and locked it. He had taken no more than two steps +before a pounding brought him to a halt. He stood there for a moment, +tense; then turned and pressed his lips to the crack of the door.</p> + +<p>"Leroux Sahib?"</p> + +<p>Faintly, from out the chaos of sounds, came—"Yes."</p> + +<p>He turned the key. The door opened violently and slammed behind the +drenched figure of the yellow-bearded sahib. Water dripped from his +helmet; streams of moisture trickled down his rain-cape and gathered in +pools upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"Allah be praised!" Muhafiz Ali murmured fervently.</p> + +<p>Leroux Sahib flung aside his cape, and the native saw that he carried a +flat package under one arm. The white man shook the water from his +helmet and mopped his face with a khaki handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Mother of God! What a night!" he exclaimed, smiling grimly. Then: "Is +it ready?"</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali hastily opened one of his chests and removed several trays. +The sahib joined him. His eyes shone feverishly as the Mussulman drew +forth a thing that tinkled musically. Strands of nacreous spheres +reflected a soft radiance from the lamp; luster of cream-colored satin. +The imitation diamonds that inset the clasp burned like star-splinters.</p> + +<p>Leroux Sahib swore under his breath and chuckled; swore in a tongue +Muhafiz Ali did not understand.</p> + +<p>"What a joke! What a colossal joke! And they think it is for them.... +<i>Bon Dieu!</i>"</p> + +<p>The door rattled; the lamp-flame rippled threateningly.</p> + +<p>"I shall place it in a tin box, Sahib," Muhafiz Ali said, for the sooner +the thing was gone the sooner he would feel at ease. "See, a box no +larger than the one you carry."</p> + +<p>He moved the lid. Pearls rattled coolly. Meanwhile, the sahib counted +out several banknotes.</p> + +<p>"Count them," he instructed as Muhafiz Ali handed him the tin box, +wrapped and tied.</p> + +<p>The Mussulman obeyed. The door shook again. A sudden burst of wind +almost carried the notes out of his hand. The lamp gasped. A slam +followed.</p> + +<p>Muhafiz Ali looked up quickly to behold a strange tableau—a tableau +that for the while suspended all thoughts from his brain and drew from +his limbs the power to move.</p> + +<p>A man had entered—a blue-eyed Punjabi. The face was vaguely familiar, +and Muhafiz Ali's memory groped.... A string of <i>ferozees</i>.... The +Punjabi stood with his shoulders pressed against the door, his feet +planted wide apart. His soaked garments clung to his body; his turban +dripped water into his eyes. But that did not quench the fire in them. +How they burned! Blue sapphires! In his hand he held a thing that +glittered like an evil eye.</p> + +<p>Leroux Sahib had swung about. His feet, too, were planted well apart, as +though he were steadying himself for an impact. The muscles of his +throat stood out like white cords in the shadow of his beard. There was +a hard gleam in his eyes; more than ever they resembled black +chalcedony.</p> + +<p>Afterward, Muhafiz Ali never quite remembered how it all happened. At +the time he was too stupefied to observe details. The blue-eyed Punjabi +laughed. It was a challenge. Leroux Sahib, suddenly smiling, answered +it; lunged toward the lamp. The ring of shattered glass—and darkness +wiped out the scene. Followed the thudding jar of muscle and bone +against yielding flesh; swift, staccato breathing. The door was flung +wide. Muhafiz Ali, crouching in a corner, saw a figure faintly +silhouetted in the door-frame, an amorphous shadow upon the paler +darkness of the street. It vanished. Another figure lurched out after +it, and was swallowed by the storm.</p> + +<p>Energy flashed into the Mussulman. He ran to the door. The incandescent +lamps gleamed through a crystal curtain of rain. The street was +deserted. For a moment he stood there, shivering. Then he shut the door; +locked it; lay weakly against the panels. When he had recovered, he +groped his way to where he knew a lantern hung. He lighted it, and a +mellow radiance played upon bits of broken glass.</p> + +<p>He rapidly counted the banknotes. Satisfied, he returned to the door and +pressed his ear to the crack. Only the slush and drench of rain. He +shivered again.</p> + +<p>Whither had they gone, this Leroux Sahib and the blue-eyed Punjabi? +Their eyes! Black chalcedony and blue sapphires! The Punjabi had a +pistol.... Over imitation pearls! Strange were the ways of these white +barbarians, stranger still the ways of the Raj. On the morrow would the +police come and ask him all manner of confusing questions? Or had the +hurricane spent itself? Was this the last he would ever see of the +yellow-haired Sahib or the Punjabi?</p> + +<p>He turned back, looking half abstractedly upon the gleaming particles of +glass. He shivered for the third time. Devil-business!</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>And so the gods, having no further use for Muhafiz Ali, merchant and +loyal servant of the Raj, left him to wonder at the source of these +ripples that had touched him; left him to grope behind the drop that had +suddenly fallen upon this bewildering interlude; left him to dream of +the house in Peshawar and the azure-necked peacock that strutted and +shrilled like an angry Rajput.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>DELHI</h3> + + +<p>Several days after Muhafiz All delivered the imitation Pearl Scarf to +the sahib in Indore, the young woman who was marked of Destiny sat in a +first-class carriage of the East Indian Railway, her attention divided +between a green vellum volume propped against a gray-clad knee and the +sun-blistered scenery that unreeled past the window.</p> + +<p>An elderly gentleman from Devonshire who occupied the same carriage +found himself wondering why his eyes invariably returned to the girl. +This particular gentleman was past youthful sentimentalizing and not yet +in those riper years when age casts regretful glances over its shoulder; +therefore, being no psychometric, it puzzled him that this girl should +compel his gaze. Was it the hair, in whose bronzen waves a slantwise ray +of sunlight ignited little glints of red-gold? Or the white throat, full +with young maturity? Suddenly she looked up, and he fathomed the secret +of magnetism. Brown eyes that brought to mind a deep, rich wine held to +the light—or poplar leaves just before snow. He felt something of +cathedral-largeness behind those eyes, something vital and alive yet +intensely spiritual. The warm strength of sunlight in great forests; +tapers in altar-gloom. These things were there. And the gentleman from +Devonshire thought of a daughter in Britain and smiled to himself, and +forgot hot, heart-aching India.</p> + +<p>The lights which he had glimpsed in the girl's eyes were the very +beacons that had drawn her across leagues of water—lights that were +first kindled in some voyaging ancestor whose frigate dropped anchor off +old New Orleans, in the gilded days of Bienville; that grew dim in the +tiresome process of heredity, and flamed anew, generations later, in +this girl who sat in the railway carriage—lights that were almost +smothered by the snuffers of Aristocracy and Tradition.</p> + +<p>For Dana Charteris came of a Louisiana family whose name was as old as +the state itself, and who lived in a great, pillared house and had black +servants and drank blacker coffee. Custom and pride and chivalry were +the goddesses of the family penetralia, and debt maintained the +vestal-fires. Her father was called "Colonel" for the same reason that +no less than one third of the gentlemen of his plane were given that +title. Her mother, who carried an air of fragrant and faded aristocracy, +read Cable and regarded him as some subaltern's wives in India regarded +Kipling. And her brother, Alan—Dana hardly knew Alan. When his name was +spoken in the house, it was in a hushed voice. They called him "black +sheep," but Dana could never associate dark fleece with the slim boy she +remembered. Alan ran away when little more than fifteen—ran away to +sail the Seven Seas and to find the end of the rainbow. Every few months +letters came from him, bearing post-marks that were, to her, stamps of +glamour.</p> + +<p>In her eyes her brother wore the mantle of Jason. He rambled in all +manner of weird places in his quest for the golden prize. This, while +she grew in an atmosphere of sweetly-musty traditions! Before she went +off to boarding-school her days were divided between the piano, paddling +indolently in warm bayous—sometimes alone, sometimes not—and riding a +black mare. But in the quiet, breathless nights when an army of stars +thronged the sky, and from down the river came the soft crooning of a +Creole song, she dreamed of enchanted lands beyond the horizon.</p> + +<p>But the voyaging ancestor and the argonaut-brother were only partly +responsible for her unrest. There was Tante Lucie, down in New Orleans. +(Tante Lucie, who made one think of star-jasmines and all the romantic +things that aura the Old South.) She had stories to tell, for a +lover-husband had taken her adventuring. She had seen the Shwe Dagon and +looked upon the Taj by moonlight. Her lover-husband was only a memory, +as were the temple and the Tomb; but she loved to talk of them, sitting +in her little court where the perfume of magnolias swam in the air.</p> + +<p>Dana's father died just before her eighteenth birthday. In the years +following, her mother no longer read Cable; she sat and dreamed of her +argonaut-son and of the "Colonel." And Dana almost stifled her desire to +cross the seas. For ominous sounds disturbed the quiet of Bayou +Latouche; there were bandages to be made and books and boxes to be +shipped to camps. During that period the letters from Alan were +infrequent and from Mesopotamia.</p> + +<p>But the interlude of khaki passed, and Bayou Latouche sank back into its +stupor. Again in the starry silences Dana listened to the crooning of +Creole songs down by the river and dreamed of a world beyond the dawns +and dusks. She was alone then; her mother went during the interlude, and +Tante Lucie no longer sat in her court and talked of foreign lands. +There were no ties; except money, as always. To keep up the house she +taught music.</p> + +<p>Then, one day, she heard from Alan. Burma, this time. He held a post +with the Inspector of Police at Rangoon. He had a bungalow in the +cantonment, he said, and any number of servants to wait on her, if she +would sell the house at Bayou Latouche and come to him. In a short time +he would have a "leave." They could meet in Calcutta and "do" India +together.</p> + +<p>India—together! Those words opened the dream-portals. After she read +the letter she consulted a mirror and told herself that she was +twenty-three and already in demand as a chaperone for the younger set. +She went into the library and stood before the portraits of her father +and her mother. She cried. And then, aware that the shades of the +Charteris family had stern gazes fixed upon her, she sent a cablegram to +Alan.</p> + +<p>Once aboard the great ship, she felt no regrets; to look back upon the +great, pillared house was like lifting the lid of a rose-jar: it brought +the fragrance of things very old and very faded. When she reached +Calcutta, a young captain met her at Chandpal Ghat. He had a note from +Alan. It explained that an urgent matter had taken him to Indore; he +begged her to forgive him for not meeting her, but assured her she was +in good hands. The second day in Calcutta she received a telegram from +him.</p> + +<p>"Meet me Delhi Friday," it ran. "Take express. Plan trip to Khyber."</p> + +<p>To the Khyber!... She left Calcutta that same day, and now, after a long +journey through the prickly-hot United Provinces, she was speeding into +the North. India, with its contrasts of filth and grandeur, had not +tarnished under the touch of reality; the nearest she came to +disillusion was in smoky, modern Calcutta. Now Tundla Junction lay +behind in a shimmering heat-haze; ahead, beyond the roaring, sweating +engine, was Delhi—Delhi, key to perished dynasties.</p> + +<p>The engine's whistle shrieked. It sent a charge of excitement through +her and she looked eagerly out of the window. Iron wheels rumbled across +a bridge. Another shriek of the whistle. Brakes screamed, and the train +drew up, panting, in the clamor and writhing heat of the railway +station.</p> + +<p>The gentleman from Devonshire opened the carriage door, and Dana, a grip +in each hand, her heart fluttering against her breast, smiled at him and +stepped into a torrid swarm. Her eyes searched the crowd. What would he +look like? Suppose she did not recognize him! Vaguely nervous, yet +happy, she allowed herself to be carried with the human surge.</p> + +<p>"Hello, there!" said a voice in her ear, and she turned quickly to look +into a clean-shaven tanned face. (And the gentleman from Devonshire, who +was passing, saw the brown eyes acquire a deeper, richer glow.)</p> + +<p>"Alan!"</p> + +<p>He was tall and slim, and the eyes that looked into hers were intensely +blue, the blue of sapphires.... The same boy, she told herself joyously, +only more tanned and grown-up!</p> + +<p>"Oh, Alan!" she gasped, as he held her at arm's-length, despite the +crowd, then drew her to him and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Great Lord, how you've grown!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>She remembered saying something about not being a little girl always; +remembered being led through the throng. Then they were in the street. +Heat and noise and colorful confusion.</p> + +<p>"I've reserved rooms at a quiet place beyond the Kashmir Gate," he told +her as he helped her into a carriage. "From the terrace outside your +room you can look upon the battlements and the river." Then, with +another smile, "I can't believe it's you! Why, you're positively +beautiful! Lord, it seems a century, a whole century, since I was in +Bayou Latouche!"</p> + +<p>He removed his topi as they wheeled off and she saw that his hair was +shot with gray above the temples. They seemed so absurd, those gray +hairs. And how his eyes lighted when he spoke of Bayou Latouche! She +realized suddenly, with a tightening of the cords in her throat, that +the search for the golden fleece hadn't been all pleasant. In his voice, +in his face and manner, was a thirst for home-talk. She understood how +he needed her, there in his bungalow in Rangoon.</p> + +<p>"Bayou Latouche is just the same," she said, placing her hand upon his. +(She spoke with a faintly slurring accent that was unmistakable.) +"Except, of course, so many have gone ... the war...." Pause. "I don't +believe you've changed a bit, Alan—you're like that last picture you +had taken before you left. Mother—how she adored you! If you could have +seen the way she looked at that picture! Father, too."</p> + +<p>He smiled soberly. She could see her father in certain of his features. +A sudden fierce joy of possession ran through her. He was hers, this +bronzed brother!</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've come, Dana." This solemnly. "It's been rather lonely +out here. You know the climate has a way, once it gets a hold, of +sapping up the energy and mummifying a fellow before his time."</p> + +<p>Her hand closed tighter about his. "And there hasn't been a girl, Alan?"</p> + +<p>He smiled. "You're the only one, Dana.... I was sorry I wasn't in +Calcutta when you landed, but this game of sleuthing has its unexpected +twists. That's why I like it. Nothing very exciting ever really happens; +it's usually humdrum thievery and dacoity. A French rogue put in his +appearance in Rangoon about a month or so ago—an international +character; only goes in for big loot. Don't know where he was before he +turned up in Rangoon, but he vanished as queerly as he'd come. The day I +reached Calcutta I was in the station and I recognized him. He'd +peroxided his beard and hair! Heard him ask for a ticket to Indore, and +I scented trouble in the wind. Of course, I should have had him arrested +there, but I wanted to see what he was up to. I left the note with +Bellingrath and took the next train."</p> + +<p>Adventure! And he was talking of it in a matter-of-fact way!</p> + +<p>"You caught him?" she urged.</p> + +<p>"Has anybody ever caught Chavigny? No, he slipped through the net. And +the nerve of him! He had letters to the Maharajah and the Agent! Used +the name of Leroux. I dressed up in a Punjabi's garb—wanted to snoop +around without arousing suspicion. I tracked Chavigny to a jeweller's +shop the day I reached Indore and overheard him commission the merchant +to make an imitation copy of the Maharajah Holkar's Pearl Scarf. After +that I watched the jeweller, too. He—but I'm boring you."</p> + +<p>"Boring me!" She laughed. "My own brother masquerading as a native and +shadowing a notorious thief! Go on!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I waited, and the expected happened, only on a larger scale than +I anticipated. The treasury was looted—<i>looted</i>! Thousands' worth of +jewels! Why, the Pearl Scarf alone is valued at a <i>crore</i> of rupees, +which is about three million, three hundred thousand in our money. And +the Peacock Turban, too, cost a fabulous sum! Yet, confound it, Chavigny +didn't go near the palace the night of the robbery! Nor had he taken the +copy of the Pearl Scarf from the bazaar! The night after the theft, I +followed him to the shop. Gad, how it rained that night! He got the +imitation scarf—but I lost him. We had a tussle and I snatched the +beastly imitation, which I'm keeping as a souvenir of my colossal +blunder in not taking the local police into my confidence. Departmental +jealousy; that's the death of justice. Chavigny left Indore by +automobile or carriage—don't know which—and boarded a north-bound +train at Mhow garrison. The station-babu described him and said his +ticket read to Delhi. And here I am."</p> + +<p>"You've notified the police that—Chavigny, isn't it?—is in the city?"</p> + +<p>He smiled. "I didn't have to. About two hours after I arrived, I heard +that Kerth—he's the Director of Central Intelligence's best man—had +got wind of Chavigny's presence and was trying to ferret him out. That +relieved me of the responsibility of reporting Chavigny."</p> + +<p>"And you still have the copy of the Pearl Scarf?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But is it right to keep it?" This with a flickering deep in the brown +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll not keep it; only for a while. If I can get Chavigny, +then—well, there's no telling what might happen. Too, I'd like to beat +that devilishly clever Kerth. You see, Dana, this is a big affair, much +bigger than I thought at first. The Secret Service is trying to keep the +lid on it, but of course it's leaked out. On the same night the robbery +occurred at Indore, similar robberies took place in several other +cities. And in every instance it was royal loot! The Gaekwar of Baroda +has one of the finest collections of diamonds in India, the famous 'Star +of the Deccan' among them—and a rug, a <i>rug</i>, Dana, ten by six, made of +pearls and rubies and diamonds! Think of it—and stolen! Scindia of +Gwalior, the Rajah of Alwar, the Nawab of Bahawalpur, and, oh, others, +too! And they all happened on the same night. Does it mean there's a +band of thieves at work, with Chavigny at the head? If so, why, great +Scott, it's the most colossal thing that's ever been staged! But I can't +understand how they intend to get away with the booty. The borders and +the coast are closed as tight as a drum, and they can't dispose of the +jewels in India."</p> + +<p>Dana sighed. "To think of all that happening, Alan, just as I arrive! +Wouldn't it be marvelous if—"</p> + +<p>"If what?" he encouraged, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, if I were to wake up and find myself in the midst of something of +that sort; one of the players, not just an onlooker." Another sigh. "I'd +like to see a really notorious thief, Alan."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "You may; for Chavigny's in a close quarter now. But here we +are at the hotel."</p> + +<p>The carriage drew up and a turbaned porter took her bags. The +proprietor, an Eurasian, met them under the great front arch of the +building and conducted them to their rooms.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" gasped the girl, drawing aside the bamboo blinds.</p> + +<p>The casement opened upon a stone terrace flush with the city walls, and +out of the green and white chaos of Shahjehanabad, or modern Delhi, rose +the gilded bubbles of several domes. Beyond a dark green jungle area, +the Jumna shone dully.</p> + +<p>"India!" she exclaimed. "Moguls and howdahs and mosques!"</p> + +<p>"India! Thugs, snakes and abominable hotels!" scoffed her brother from +the adjoining room. "Here's the copy of the Pearl Scarf, if you care to +see it."</p> + +<p>As she turned, he stepped through the communicating doorway and extended +a shallow box. When she lifted the cover a little gasp of astonishment +left her lips. The cream-luster of pearls; red and blue gleams from +paste diamonds!</p> + +<p>"Why, they look genuine!" she cried; then shuddered. "There's a terrible +fascination about jewels, Alan. They always have a story. Murder and +pillage!"</p> + +<p>"Grease and dirt usually, in India," he interpolated with a smile, +taking the box. "But let's forget Chavigny and the round dozen Rajahs +that are wailing over their stolen jewels. I promised Gerrish—he's an +old friend—we'd dine with him this evening. Eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Dana unpacked her grips. Dear Alan! Her brother. +After all those years. She wondered if it were not a dream, if presently +she wouldn't wake up back at Bayou Latouche, or in Tante Lucie's court, +down in New Orleans, with Tante Lucie talking of foreign lands....</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>Night settled over Delhi. From the River Jumna to the Ridge, and beyond, +tiny lights blinked at the shadows, and like a huge spirit-eye in the +dusk the moon looked down upon the domes and minarets of the old Mogul +capital. At the clubs electric punkahs fanned the air, ice clinked in +frosted glasses and home-sick young officers read news-sheets from +Britain. The network of narrow, constricted highways between Burra +Bazaar and the Delhi Gate steamed and stewed, and heat and stench +crawled beneath dirty eaves and balconies. South of the modern city, on +the dead plain of Firozabad, thornbush and acacia rustled mournfully and +ruined ramparts yielded up their nightly squadron of bats.</p> + +<p>In his residence beyond the Civil Lines, Colonel Sir Francis Duncraigie, +Director of Central Intelligence, C. S. I., and probably one of the most +important men in the empire, sat alone in his writing-room beneath a +mildly whirring fan, and sweltered and swore.</p> + +<p>As a house-boy appeared like a white wraith from the dusk of the hall, +he looked up.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Did you call, O Presence?"</p> + +<p>Sir Francis glared. "No!" Then, "But wait!"</p> + +<p>A pattering noise sounded from the driveway, and he rose and strode to +the window, parting the draperies. What he saw, fantastic in the hazy +moonlight, was a palanquin with drawn curtains, borne on the shoulders +of four coolies.</p> + +<p>"What 'n Tophet!" he exclaimed, for palanquins are rare in the +present-day Delhi of cabs and motorcars, nor is it the custom of +Mohammedan ladies, who ride in these picturesque conveyances, to call +upon officers of the empire.</p> + +<p>"If it's anybody to see me, tell 'em I have an appointment and they'll +have to wait," he instructed briefly, turning back.</p> + +<p>The house-boy disappeared, and Sir Francis resumed his seat. After a +moment the boy returned.</p> + +<p>"She says you have an appointment with her, O Presence!"</p> + +<p>The colonel stared. "What!" Pause. "By George! Perhaps you'd better show +her in!"</p> + +<p>He watched the doorway, and presently a white figure materialized. He +rose. The woman wore a <i>bhourka</i>—the long cotton garment that +Mohammedan ladies affect in public, and which leaves only the eyes +visible.</p> + +<p>"You wish to see me?" asked the Director of Central Intelligence.</p> + +<p>The hood of the <i>bhourka</i> was thrown back ... and the colonel, who while +on duty hibernated under the armor of official dignity, came out of his +shell. No man would question her beauty, many her type. The features +were long and narrow, and a warm gold, suggesting an Aryan strain, +underlay her clear skin. The eyes, rather heavy-lidded, were baffling, +and of a deep violet shade—like the peaks of the Khyber after the +sunset gun at Jamrud Fort. Black hair clouded her face.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised to see me—like this?" she enquired, indicating the +<i>bhourka</i>.</p> + +<p>Her voice was low and rich, and marked by a huskiness that was rare in +that it was musical. Her English was flawless.</p> + +<p>"Well, rather!" confessed the colonel.</p> + +<p>"Am I late?"—as he drew up a chair for her.</p> + +<p>"On the minute," he lied.</p> + +<p>She smiled tolerantly. "Will you close the door, please?"</p> + +<p>With a speed that would have made his subalterns gasp, he hastened to +obey.</p> + +<p>"Since I received your telephone call," he told her, settling himself +behind the desk, "I have been all interest. What is it this time—more +plots against the Sirkar?"</p> + +<p>She made a grimace. "Plots spring up and die overnight! If I concerned +myself with such minor occurrences, I should be eternally occupied. I +told you I wished to see you regarding a matter of <i>importance</i>."</p> + +<p>She paused and he said: "Well?"</p> + +<p>"What happened on the night of June fourteenth?"</p> + +<p>He stared at her. "You don't mean—"</p> + +<p>"But I <i>do</i>."</p> + +<p>He drummed upon the desk.</p> + +<p>"You have not answered me," she reminded, after a moment. "What <i>did</i> +happen on that night? Why not read me your files?"</p> + +<p>He unlocked a drawer of his desk and removed a file cabinet. From the +latter he took a sheaf of papers.</p> + +<p>"The Treasure House at Alwar was robbed," he said, his eyes upon the +papers in his hand. "The diamonds alone are worth ten thousand pounds, +and—but you don't want me to go into detail, do you? Well, gems valued +at three hundred thousand pounds, sterling, were spirited away from the +Nazarbagh Palace at Baroda. Tukaji Rao of Indore lost his Pearl Scarf +and the Peacock Turban. The treasury at Jodpur was looted. Scindia of +Gwalior's pearls were stolen. Others who were robbed are: your cousin, +the Nawab of Jehelumpore, the Nawab of Bahawalpur, the Rajah of Mysore +and the Rajah of Tanjore." He halted, raising his eyes. "In other words, +on the night of June fourteenth jewels worth millions of pounds were +snatched away under the very nose of the Government, without leaving one +single thread to grasp! If anyone had even suggested such a preposterous +thing before, I'd have laughed!"</p> + +<p>"Then the 'Delhi Post' did not tell the truth this morning," ventured +the woman, "when it said, 'the Intelligence Department has a valuable +clue'?"</p> + +<p>"Well, so we have," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"Chavigny?"</p> + +<p>He gave her a swift glance. "How did you know?"</p> + +<p>She dismissed the question with a shrug and said:</p> + +<p>"You agree with me, I am sure, Sir Francis, that these robberies are +connected; that it is highly improbable to think for an instant that in +nine cities thefts of famous jewels merely occurred simultaneously. As +for this Chavigny—judging from his reputation he is clever enough to +have done it. However, reflect upon the difficulties he would encounter. +India is not like Europe. There is caste to consider. He is a white man. +Furthermore, the jewels were stolen from state treasuries; from +buildings, in some instances vaults, that are not easily accessible."</p> + +<p>"Then you think it the work of some sort of organized band?"</p> + +<p>"I think exactly as you do," she replied cryptically, "only I have +foundation for my belief, while you are—rather, your department, +is—well, romancing."</p> + +<p>Silence fell. The man was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"I'm to infer, then, that in your opinion Chavigny had nothing whatever +to do with the robberies?"</p> + +<p>She smiled. "Did I say that?"</p> + +<p>"At least, you hinted that there is something rather big behind the +thefts."</p> + +<p>She continued to smile and leaned upon the desk, facing him.</p> + +<p>"To come to the purpose of this call, Sir Francis. If you will give me +four months—and a free rein—you have my word that I will recover every +jewel that was stolen on the night of June fourteenth."</p> + +<p>It was with difficulty that the Director of Central Intelligence +smothered an impulse to smile and suggested soberly:</p> + +<p>"Won't you be more explicit? This is—well, from my viewpoint, it seems +rather incredible."</p> + +<p>"I mean, with the aid of one of your men I will do what your Department +could never accomplish. May I have him?"</p> + +<p>"The whole of the Secret Service is at your disposal!"—magnanimously.</p> + +<p>She gestured impatiently. "Woodenheads, all of them!"</p> + +<p>Sir Francis almost gasped. "Even Euan Kerth?" he managed to ask calmly.</p> + +<p>"I do not know Euan Kerth, but he is reputed to be the lion of your +Department. He would more than likely prove unmanageable. No, Euan Kerth +does not qualify."</p> + +<p>He chewed his lip. "Really, won't you throw a little more light on the +subject?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied in mellifluous tones, with her most distracting smile. +"You recall what happened in the affair of Amar Singh, when your men +investigated? <i>I</i> shall handle this after my own manner—or wash my +hands of it."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis' forehead wrinkled in an official frown.</p> + +<p>"This is most extraordinary! Is that a—er—threat?"</p> + +<p>"Dare one threaten the Intelligence Department?" she purred.</p> + +<p>He drummed upon the surface of his desk again. His thoughts at that +moment were none too pleasant.</p> + +<p>"Well, what are your terms?" came at length from him.</p> + +<p>She was aware that she was mistress of the situation, and she enjoyed +the position.</p> + +<p>"I wish to choose the man with whom I am to work," she began. "I am not +to be spied upon by your agents; in fact, the first indication of any +sort of surveillance will end our contract. The man I choose will not be +permitted to communicate with you, or with anyone, until we have +finished. He must obey me implicitly. If you agree to my terms, I shall +name a meeting-place, and from the instant this man enters the house he +is mine; he disappears from your observation completely until I give him +back to the Raj. Meanwhile, you will follow up the clues you have; you +will forget me, you will forget the man who is to help me—and at the +end of four months I will keep my pledge."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis concealed his thoughts under a smile, and well he did.</p> + +<p>"You ask the impossible. Why, that's preposterous!"</p> + +<p>"You question my loyalty?"</p> + +<p>A spark showed in the violet eyes—steel under the velvet.</p> + +<p>"Your loyalty is not involved in this discussion; it is simply that you +ask things that are unprecedented in the service."</p> + +<p>"The happenings of June fourteenth are without precedent," she returned +swiftly. "Come, Sir Francis, what are you losing in this venture? On the +contrary, you gain much. I want no credit; when I have finished I vanish +from the affair, completely. One of the stipulations is that my name +must not be mentioned in connection with the work. Simply, your +curiosity is piqued. And your masculine vanity suffers at the thought +that a woman can do what you, with your hundreds of eyes, can not. Be +reasonable. I give my word, a word that you have reason to know is +always kept, that your man shall come to no harm. You do not question my +loyalty, you say; then what reason for refusal have you? Simply that in +the stale, musty annals of your Department such a thing has never been +done!"</p> + +<p>The Director of Central Intelligence leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Do you know"—and he smiled as he said it—"I could have +you—er—detained as a suspicious person, if I felt so disposed."</p> + +<p>Her musical laughter rippled out. "But you do <i>not</i> feel so disposed, +for what would it gain you?"</p> + +<p>Their eyes met and there followed a quick duel.... The man's smile was a +sign of defeat.</p> + +<p>"If you don't want a Secret Service man, whom <i>do</i> you want?"</p> + +<p>"A man who has brains and imagination—and, besides those, honor."</p> + +<p>"Name him."</p> + +<p>"Major Arnold Trent of Gaya."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis lifted his eyebrows. "He is a doctor."</p> + +<p>"That is the way with you military men"—with a sigh. "If one is a +physician, you think he knows nothing but what is taught in schools of +medicine! I want some one whose brain is free of tiresome Secret Service +rules."</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled. "You are a very resourceful woman," he declared.</p> + +<p>"That means you accept?"</p> + +<p>"It means I recognize your ability, and that I shall communicate with +the Viceroy to-morrow and give you my decision as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>She smiled her approval and rose.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall not prolong this interview. Good night, Sir Francis."</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand and moved to the door, where she halted, turning +back.</p> + +<p>"I nearly forgot," she said. "There is one other clause in the +agreement. Major Trent must be kept in ignorance of the party with whom +he is to work. To him you may call me—well, the Swaying Cobra." She +smiled again. "By that name I was known when I danced on the Continent."</p> + +<p>Then she departed, melting into the dusky hallway.</p> + +<p>After a moment Sir Francis moved to the window and parted the draperies +slightly. The palanquin was passing, swimming in yellow moonlight. He +watched it until it lost itself in shadows.</p> + +<p>"Now what the deuce!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>He resumed his seat and searched several drawers until he found a black +book; then he ran through the pages, halting at: "<i>Trent, Arnold Ralph, +Major, R. A. M. C....</i>" He read the lines following the name; took the +receiver from a telephone on his desk; called for a number.</p> + +<p>"Kane?" he asked when he was connected. "Duncraigie. You might come out +this way to-night. Important matter. Sarojini Nanjee just called. What! +Surely you remember <i>her</i>! Connection of the Nawab of Jehelumpore; +danced in London and Paris for a while. Half white, fourth Rajput, and +the rest devil." He chuckled. "Thought you'd recall <i>her</i>. I'll be +waiting for you."</p> + +<p>He placed the receiver upon the hook and sat staring reflectively at the +doorway where the woman of the <i>bhourka</i> disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Hell-cat!" he said aloud.</p> + +<p>Which may or may not have been the impression she intended to give.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>An hour after the interview with the Director of Central Intelligence, +Sarojini Nanjee lay back in a great cane chair in the living-room of her +bungalow, idly watching the smoke from her cigarette as it spiraled +upward and was rent into vaporous tatters by the electric punkah.</p> + +<p>The room, like its occupant, was exotic. A Kyoto gong kindled a bright +spot among softer tones—rare rugs, brocade hangings, and a tall lamp +afloat on the shadows, like an amber island. The woman seemed to melt +into it, her very attitude expressing its utter luxury. Deep iris-hued +eyes dreamed under heavy lids. Her skin glowed with a golden sheen, and +the lacy folds of a negligee fell sheer from her slender ankles and +embroidered the carpet with foamy white.</p> + +<p>She had been thus for some time, her brain immersed in a languor, her +thoughts propelled with as little mental volition as possible. She +stirred only to flick the cigarette-ashes into a brass bowl at her +elbow, or to arch one arm above her head in a gesture of complete +abandon. A passing recollection of her call at Sir Francis Duncraigie's +residence invariably caused a faint, inscrutable smile to slip into her +eyes. But for the most part she did not burden herself with either +thought or retrospection; merely sat in the dull, sweet stupor of +semi-inertia.</p> + +<p>A night beetle rattled harshly outside. The sound came to the woman as a +sudden recall from her absorption. She placed her nearly burnt-out +cigarette in the ash-bowl; stretched, rose, and struck the Kyoto gong. +As the rich, deep-throated echo sank into a hush, the curtains on one +side of the room parted and a servant in white garments and a blue +turban entered.</p> + +<p>"I shall retire now, Chandra Lal," she announced quietly. "You have your +instructions."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Heavenborn!"</p> + +<p>"You remember the place—the room?"</p> + +<p>"How could I forget, Heavenborn?"</p> + +<p>"You will"—she hesitated—"cause no injury unless necessary."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Heavenborn!"</p> + +<p>"Stop calling me that!"—irritably.</p> + +<p>Scarlet betel-stained teeth were revealed in a smile.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Memsahib."</p> + +<p>"You may go now."</p> + +<p>"To hear is to obey, Memsahib!"</p> + +<p>The blue-turbaned Chandra Lal slipped noiselessly between the curtains.</p> + +<p>Sarojini Nanjee moved to a door in the other end of the room, paused +tentatively and stepped over the threshold. The door closed behind her.</p> + +<p>And as she left the room, Chandra Lal reappeared.</p> + +<p>He stood motionless in the division of the curtains, listening; then +crept softly to a desk in a dusky corner. He produced a key from his +breeches; fitted it into a lock; opened a drawer. For several seconds +his hands moved swiftly, silently through the papers within. After that +he wrote a line on a small scrap of paper. This he folded and slipped +under the edge of his blue turban.</p> + +<p>Noiselessly he locked the drawer and recrossed the room. At the doorway +he looked back.... The curtains fell together behind him.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>Dana Charteris sat before a mirror in her room at the hotel and released +her hair from all restraining pins. It tumbled over her shoulders in +ripples of gold; little bronze-tipped waves, rather reddish, glowed with +soft fire under the searching rays of the electric lamp. The face that +looked back at her from the mirror, a face framed in the shimmering +copperish masses, had a lustrous pallor. She returned the stare of her +own image solemnly and realized, not for the first time, that while the +features in the mirror were those of a girl, there were hints of +maturity. The fullness of the throat, of the lips, and the sympathetic, +almost poignant expression in the brown eyes.</p> + +<p>She sighed, then hummed a little tune as she ran a comb through the +thick strands. The odor of tobacco floated to her from the adjoining +room where Alan was making out a report. She liked the smell; it was +clean and masculine.</p> + +<p>When she had plaited her hair into two long braids, she slipped into a +dressing-gown and pattered into her brother's room in bedroom sandals.</p> + +<p>"Alan," she said, slipping her arms about his neck, "it's so wonderful +to be with you! Why, just think, two months ago I was teaching music in +Bayou Latouche!"</p> + +<p>He put his pipe aside.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow we'll ramble about the city, through the Fort and the +bazaars," he told her. "And the next day—to Lahore."</p> + +<p>"I always think of Lahore with a picture of <i>Kim</i> sitting on +'<i>Zam-zammah</i>'."</p> + +<p>He smiled. "Then to Peshawar and the Khyber. I've an old friend at Ali +Masjid Fort and he's promised to take us through the Pass."</p> + +<p>Then he rose, picked her up bodily and carried her into her room, +placing her upon the bed.</p> + +<p>"Good night; sleep tight!"</p> + +<p>He kissed her, turned out the light and returned to his room.</p> + +<p>Dana slipped out of her dressing-gown; flung it across the foot of the +bed; dropped her slippers upon the floor. Then she lay back upon the +pillows, watching the moonlight that streamed in through the open +casement.</p> + +<p>The wide-flung windows yielded a view of the sky and the white Indian +stars. In her fancy she likened them to a string of jewels. Jewels. That +word brought to her mind a picture of the looted treasures of which Alan +had told her. Gems. What fascinating things! Jewels of rajahs and +maharajahs, the pomp and rust of pagan rulers! Diamonds stripped from +idols' eyes, and rubies and sapphires pillaged from the vaults of +ancient temples! She had heard stories of the pearl fisheries of Ceylon +where stones were stolen and hidden in cobras, even in human bodies.... +India, mother of intrigue. She shivered.</p> + +<p>She could not forget the copy of the Pearl Scarf of Indore. It haunted +her.... Pearls.... Chavigny, a thief of international notoriety.... +Alan's pen was scratching steadily on in the next room. The odor of +tobacco was comforting. It made her forget the jewels of Ind; conjured +in her mind a picture of the great, pillared house at Bayou Latouche. +And she was still thinking of Bayou Latouche, and hearing faintly the +<i>scratch-scratch</i> of the pen, when she fell asleep.</p> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<p>Dana awakened with a start. Involuntarily she sat up in bed, staring +drowsily about the room. It was buried in dusk. The moonlight, floating +through the casement, crusted the floor with a band of pearl. As full +consciousness wiped the threads of sleep from her brain, she wondered +what had caused her sudden awakening. No noise, for silence shut down +like a lid, made more intense by the sighing of trees beyond the stone +terrace. The sounds of a clock on the dressing-table seemed to stitch +the hush.</p> + +<p>For a moment she sat there, vaguely uneasy; then swung her feet over the +side and slipped them into bedroom sandals. Moving quietly to the +dressing-table, she looked at the clock. After one.... Her sandals +lisped on the floor as she crept to the window.</p> + +<p>Delhi lay asleep in the breathless night. Temple, tower, dome and +minaret swam in the moonlight, and in the jungle stretch by the river +jackals were laughing hysterically. With a little shiver she returned to +the bed.</p> + +<p>Strange to awaken like this, she thought. The new surroundings probably. +She sighed and settled deeper in the bed.</p> + +<p>... She was almost asleep when a shadow flitted across her vision. At +first it seemed a part of the slumber that had nearly overcome her, and +she lay there contemplating the window-casement where it had passed +until it was borne to her, suddenly, and not without a shock, that she +was fully awake and the shadow was not a shadow, but a very substantial +human form that had stolen by on the stone terrace. The realization drew +her muscles rigid, and she lay motionless, listening to the hammering of +her heart.</p> + +<p>A faint scraping noise came from Alan's room. What was it, a footfall? +An oblong reservoir of darkness outlined the doorway. She could see +nothing.... She must move, must call her brother. But her body was +locked in a temporary paralysis, her tongue dry.</p> + +<p>Again the sound. Unmistakable. Some one was walking stealthily. The +crackle of paper.</p> + +<p>Her fright increased, swelled, became so acute that she could no longer +endure it.</p> + +<p>"Alan!"</p> + +<p>It was not a scream; a whisper. She found that she could move, and she +sat up.</p> + +<p>From the next room came a series of thuds; bare feet on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Damn you—"</p> + +<p>She leaped out of bed.</p> + +<p>A ripping sound. A groan. Another thud, heavier this time.</p> + +<p>Dana reached the communicating door in a few steps. A quick intake of +breath. Her hands closed upon the door-frame, tightened convulsively. +Dimness swam visibly before her. Through the dark mist she saw a figure +dart out upon the stone terrace and disappear.</p> + +<p>Beside the bed, stretched full length upon the floor, was a white form.</p> + +<p>She screamed. The dimness dissolved and she rushed to the body.</p> + +<p>"Alan! Alan!"</p> + +<p>She grasped his shoulders, dizzy, cold with horror. Involuntarily she +drew one hand away and saw a dark stain upon her fingers. It seemed to +glare out and strike her eyes. She fought against a gathering weakness; +forced herself to feel his heart. Beating. But that white face! And how +could she lift him to the bed, how—</p> + +<p>Footsteps rang from the hall. Came a knock at the door; a voice +penetrated the panels.</p> + +<p>Dana rose, found the light-switch and turned it. The flood of yellow +gave warmth and strength to her—showed her a blue coil in the middle of +the room. Dimly she realized it was a turban cloth—probably torn from +the intruder's head. She did not touch it, but unlocked the door.</p> + +<p>The Eurasian proprietor stood outside, in a dressing-gown. Behind him +was a dark-skinned porter. A door opened further along the hall.</p> + +<p>"My brother!" she gasped, motioning toward the white form.</p> + +<p>The Eurasian spoke to the porter. They entered and placed the +unconscious man upon the bed. Oblivious of the fact that she was clad +only in a nightdress, Dana stood by, trying to collect her scattered +faculties.</p> + +<p>"If you will call a doctor," she said, "I'll attend to him now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam. I'll have the boy fetch some water and smelling-salts from +my wife's room. How did this happen?"</p> + +<p>"I—I can't think—now," she returned dazedly. "Later...."</p> + +<p>The Eurasian said something, but she did not remember what it was; +remembered only that he and the porter went out. A moment after the door +closed she heard voices in the hall.</p> + +<p>"O Alan!" she pleaded, bending over her brother. "Can't you hear me?"</p> + +<p>Several minutes passed before he showed any symptoms of reviving; then +he mumbled a few unintelligible words, and the lids drew back from his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Dana!"—weakly. "He—took it—"</p> + +<p>"What, Alan, dear?"</p> + +<p>"The scarf—confounded imitation." He closed his eyes; opened them an +instant later. "I'll be all right,"—with a smile. "Nothing serious. +Don't mention the scarf, or anything about it. Just say—thief...." The +lids sank over his eyes. "Imitation," he muttered. And fainted again.</p> + +<p>... The Eurasian returned shortly, with the porter at his heels. The +latter carried a basin of water and several bottles.</p> + +<p>"If you'll allow me to attend to him," offered the proprietor, "it will +spare you much unpleasantness."</p> + +<p>Dana nodded and sank into a chair, shivering.</p> + +<p>Nearly an hour passed before the doctor arrived. Alan had regained +consciousness, but fainted during the examination. Dana, standing beside +the bed in her negligee, waited nervously to hear the decision.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you have any cause to be uneasy," said the doctor, after +what seemed an interminable time. "The wound isn't serious—only the +muscles and tissues punctured—nothing internal. But I'm going to +suggest, rather, insist, that he go to a hospital."</p> + +<p>"By all means," agreed Dana, very close to tears. "I want everything +possible done for him."</p> + +<p>The doctor smiled sympathetically. "Be sure we'll do all we can," he +assured her. "Now, if you'll have some one fetch a basin of water, +boiled, I'll get at this dressing."</p> + +<p>Close to dawn, after the doctor had departed and Alan was conscious, +Dana went to her room to dress. At the doorway she paused—for the blue +turban-cloth lay coiled upon the threshold where she had tossed it. +Incidents of greater importance had crowded the remembrance of it from +her brain. Now she stooped and picked it up, rather gingerly. Queer. For +imitation pearls!</p> + +<p>She lowered her eyes, suddenly, involuntarily—as though in obedience to +a subconscious command.</p> + +<p>On the spot where the turban-cloth had lain was a small scrap of paper.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Thus, having jested with a puppet at Indore and given a thread into the +hands of Dana Charteris, Destiny, capricious as the winds, turned toward +the officer of the empire upon whom a chalk-mark had previously been +placed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>A PIECE OF CORAL</h3> + + +<p>Sunset was spreading a fan of flamingo plumes above Meera, a native +village to the northward of Gaya, when Arnold Trent (unaware that +Destiny had been hovering over him since Dana Charteris found the scrap +of paper, in Delhi, three days before) clattered out of the jungle and +along the nearly deserted main street. At the council-tree, where the +headman of the village sat and chewed betel-leaf, he drew rein, +listening to a low, eerie wailing that came from one of the whitewashed +houses.</p> + +<p>"It is Chatterjee," volunteered the headman. "His Ratanamma is dead, +Dakktar Sahib."</p> + +<p>Trent swung down from his saddle. "When did it happen, Ranjeet Singh?"</p> + +<p>"Not an hour past, Dakktar Sahib."</p> + +<p>Trent's eyes roved up and down the street. "Where's everybody? Meera +looks as if a plague had struck it."</p> + +<p>Ranjeet Singh, who was a Jain, spat contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"Some vermin-ridden priests from Tibet are at the Sacred Bo-tree," he +explained, "and the worshippers of Gaudama have swarmed thither, like +flies to a dung-feast!"</p> + +<p>Trent smiled slightly and moved toward one of the whitewashed houses, +swinging along with the leisurely, easy stride of one poised on +well-controlled muscles. At the door he paused. It was dark within, and +a breath of offal and man-reek greeted him. After a moment he saw, +against the darkness, the pale silhouette of a white-clad figure. From +this figure came the eerie wails.</p> + +<p>"Chatterjee!" Trent called.</p> + +<p>The silhouette ceased wailing long enough to quaver: "Dakktar Sahib!"</p> + +<p>The Englishman, his eyes now accustomed to the gloom, strode over to a +thong-strung bed and peered down at the form stretched upon it. Unable +to see clearly, he struck a match. The tiny flare flickered upon bare +brown skin.... Trent swore.</p> + +<p>"Stop that damned nonsense!" he commanded. "Chatterjee, you've had some +infernal <i>hakim</i> here again—against my orders!"</p> + +<p>"My little Ratanamma, dove of my bosom, is dead!" wailed the man.</p> + +<p>"Did you give her the medicine I left?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dakktar Sahib! It was your medicine that killed her. The <i>hakim</i> +said so."</p> + +<p>Trent swore again. "I've a notion to report you to the Karnal Sahib and +have you taken up! You old murderer! Didn't you know better than to let +some filthy, stinking <i>hakim</i> burn her stomach with a hot iron?"</p> + +<p>The native was wailing again.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, Chatterjee," said Trent sternly, gripping the man's +shoulder. "Who did this?"</p> + +<p>"Your medicine, Dakktar Sahib!"</p> + +<p>Trent shook him roughly. "Will you answer me—or...."</p> + +<p>"Your medicine, Dakktar Sahib!" insisted the man.</p> + +<p>Trent released him, realizing the futility of pressing the question.</p> + +<p>"Very well. I'll report you to the Karnal Sahib and he'll have you +strung up by your toes!"</p> + +<p>He left the house abruptly—followed by feverish, glowing eyes.</p> + +<p>Out of Meera he rode, past the temple on the river bank and along the +jungle-lined road toward Gaya.</p> + +<p>Trent was angry. But his face gave no indication of it. Twenty-three +years under a tropical sun (add the ten years at school in Britain and +you'll have his age) had baked his skin to a leather brown, and a third +of that time spent in the army had taught him that impassivity is man's +chief advantage—a citadel against the aggressive. He had, in the +vernacular of the times, a "poker face"—the mask of those who share +their secrets with few. In either mufti or khaki he was not particularly +handsome, and this evening, after a day of work in viscid heat, he was +almost ugly. Dust was ingrained into his skin, like an ocher pigment; +his throat and brows were moist with perspiration. Yet there was about +him something arresting and vital—a challenging strength that +pronounced him a man's man. And he was. He talked with men; ate with +men; lived with men; understood men. Scales that dip into earth-dust and +swing again to regions of exquisite idealism—the eternal weight and +counter-weight of Self. That was how he defined them. And his +definitions were usually metaphors. An idiosyncrasy. Give him a chair in +a dim room with one of Beethoven's sonatas swelling in throat-gripping +chords, or a pipe and congenial darkness somewhere close to the stars, +and he was in his prime element.</p> + +<p>As for women.... That there had been one—one or more—at some time in +his life, nobody who knew him doubted; but it was the general opinion at +Gaya and thereabouts that he was as little concerned with women as with +anything else that habited the planet. Envious subordinates hinted that +at one time or other he had run afoul some feminine reef. When these +remarks drifted to Trent (and such remarks always do) he only smiled, +for he had a generous supply of humor packed away under his impassivity. +It was never known that he deliberately avoided women; it appeared that +he simply accepted them as a matter of form, inevitable as waves on a +sea, and sometimes as disastrous.</p> + +<p>Only Richard Manlove, also an army doctor, who shared his +bungalow, had penetrated beyond the outer-rampart of his seeming +seclusiveness—"Dicky" Manlove whom Trent first saw out in dead +Mesopotamia. Their friendship was a popular topic of discussion on warm +afternoons when feminine Gaya gathered to perspire under one common +punkah. So different, you know.... Young "Dicky"—a delicious boy ... +and the major—oh, rather a decent chap, a human manual of Hindustani +and all those other perfectly impossible languages, but ... well, it's +so disconcerting not to know what a man is thinking, isn't it?</p> + +<p>Thus feminine Gaya catalogued him, and thus he appeared—immobile—this +late afternoon as he rode out of Meera.</p> + +<p>His anger died as he trotted on, and by the time he came within view of +his bungalow, built on the flank of one of Gaya's hills, he was +watching, in a whimsical, almost detached manner, the fireflies dance +and reel in the dusk. When he drew nearer, he saw a figure in a white +dress leave his compound, a figure that paused at the diverging roads +not far from the bungalow, and, after a slight hesitation, chose the +branch in his direction. Instantly he indexed her as a stranger; no +female resident would think of using the isolated Meera road after dusk.</p> + +<p>She wore a pith helmet with a veil. The veil was lifted, but as he +approached, she lowered it—curiously enough, he thought. He was certain +she had come from his compound; therefore, when she was within a few +yards, he drew rein.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon...." as he lifted his helmet. "Do you wish to see me? I'm +Major Trent."</p> + +<p>She halted, resting one hand upon a tree-trunk. He caught the glint of a +bracelet on her white arm, and, being a man to notice details, observed +a design worked in heavy relief upon it—a design that, in the half-tone +of the early night, was almost indistinguishable.</p> + +<p>"No," came the answer from under the veil, in a voice with a soft, +thrilling timbre. "No."</p> + +<p>He was still studying the bracelet out of the corner of his eye, and he +perceived that the intricate workmanship represented a king-cobra; its +hood was lifted in bizarre relief.... A barbaric ornament for a white +woman to wear, he thought.</p> + +<p>"But, really," he persisted, "it isn't quite safe for you to go along +this road. Beasts, you know."</p> + +<p>A pause. He saw the dark pools of her eyes upon him.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she murmured. "I thought I was going to the dâk bungalow."</p> + +<p>With that she turned and moved away in the direction of the metalled +main highway.</p> + +<p>"Now, that's queer," he observed to himself, staring after her. "Anybody +with even bad sight could see that this road...." Certainly she was at +the compound gate. Why had she falsified?</p> + +<p>He removed his helmet and furrowed his hair—a characteristic gesture; +then, still watching the woman, he jerked the reins and trotted toward +the bungalow.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>A native servant in a white cotton <i>chuddah</i> and turban switched on the +light in the living-room as Trent entered.</p> + +<p>"Has Manlove Sahib come in, Ganeesh?" asked the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"No, Dakktar Sahib."</p> + +<p>Trent placed his helmet upon the table and sank into a chair.</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't want anything to eat, so you may as well go. If Manlove Sahib +hasn't eaten, he can go to the barracks."</p> + +<p>As the native quitted the room, Trent, at a sudden thought, called after +him.</p> + +<p>"Ganeesh," he said, as his servant reappeared, "has anyone been here +this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"No, Dakktar Sahib."</p> + +<p>"Didn't a lady call a few minutes ago?"</p> + +<p>The man answered in the negative.</p> + +<p>"Hmm. Very well. That's all."</p> + +<p>Still puzzling over the strange woman, he removed a pipe and a sack of +tobacco from his shirt pocket, and when he had filled the bowl he +lighted it. For several minutes he drew upon the amber stem, looking +abstractedly into the whorls of smoke; then he picked up a brown volume +from the table and opened it at a leaf that was turned under.</p> + +<p>Here was another trait that Gaya had not discovered. Frequently when he +was tired he turned to poetry—sometimes to books on the art-treasures +and ancient lore of India, Indo-China and China—for relaxation.</p> + +<p>His eyes followed these lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Star of the South that now through orient mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At nightfall off Tampico or Belize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greetest the sailor, rising from those seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where first in me, a fond romanticist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tropic sunset's bloom on cloudy piles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cast out industrious cares with dreams of fabulous isles.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He rather fancied that passage. Fabulous isles. His brain toyed with the +thought. For, although he walked down among mortals, sheathing himself +in indifference and impassivity, he kept, in secret, a ladder to the +stars—a concession to return at will to a guarded kingdom of his youth, +the dominion of Romance and Adventure. He would have dwelt in this +kingdom, secluded from earth, but for a thorn that was fastened deep +within him. This thorn had pricked him since that period of adolescence +when first visions and aspirations stirred in his boyish brain and set +him to dreaming of the future. It had goaded him relentlessly into +achievement, against the will of his adventurous spirit.</p> + +<p>Strive as he might, he could not draw it out.</p> + +<p>It was Ambition.</p> + +<p>Because of it he had buried a dream that at odd moments returned and +haunted him, like the poignantly sweet odor of lavender rising from +packed-away treasures. Reckless, this dream, dangerous. To forsake the +dull earth; drink freedom from the winds. A passion for the open +spaces—to explore the fabulous isles. But the lure of uncharted seas +and archipelagoes beyond the sunset, sheer and calling as they were, +could not entice him to trample tradition. Ambition had won. And he +beheld himself now, at thirty-three, a romantic soul armored in realism; +at heart a boy who had never broken away from the age when flapping +canvas and groaning timbers cause a queer clutching in the throat. His +reckless impulses and desires were bitted and diverted into +accomplishment. He was a success. But there were times, often in the +dead of the night, with the jungle solitude challenging speech, when he +realized that, in his own eyes, he was a failure.</p> + +<p>He sighed unconsciously, almost inaudibly, and his sea-green eyes +softened to gray as he fashioned, extravagantly, a blue dragon in the +tobacco smoke that coiled sinuously toward the ceiling; sighed, as he +often did in the quiet of his own quarters where only the walls might +hear.</p> + +<p>His thoughts switched involuntarily to the present (and his eyes lost +some of their grayness, for their color seemed to change with his moods) +and focused upon the communication he had received that morning. Under +the precise military wording he sensed another element. Mystery. After +all these prosaic years was he to be drawn out of his cocoon of +medicines and gauze bandages and have his adventure? In all probability +the affair would prove drab enough. Adventure? Well, hardly. Things of +the sort set forth in the dispatch were usually rather unpleasant. Yet +it intrigued him. Blindfolded. And was not that it?</p> + +<p>"... temporarily attached to ... Euan Kerth ... a woman called the +Swaying Cobra...."</p> + +<p>Fragments of the communication filtered through his brain. Strange. From +pills and antiseptics to that! It <i>was</i> leaving a cocoon! What a joke to +tell Manlove. Dear old Manlove—this with warmth.</p> + +<p>The sounds of walking in the compound announced the object of his +thoughts. The footsteps drew nearer, crossed the veranda, and Manlove, +uniformed and helmeted, entered.</p> + +<p>"Rum day," he said. "Hot as Tophet; everything wrong."</p> + +<p>Trent made no comment; only nodded.</p> + +<p>"There's a big shindy up at the Sacred Bo-tree," the other added. "Some +Tibetan lamas are there. I stopped by with Herrick."</p> + +<p>He took off his helmet, the removal revealing to the light a tanned, +boyish face and a healthy thatch of hair; mopped his forehead and flung +his headgear carelessly across the room. That was his way, to appear +careless. But at heart he was not; he liked small boundaries (while +Trent craved larger ranges), homely things. He looked forward to the +time when he would come into possession of "Gray Towers," ancestral +abiding-place of the Manloves. Of course, he didn't want his +grandfather, more familiarly known as the Old Fellow, to die or anything +like that; he was simply prepared for the inevitable: The Right +Honorable Richard Auckland Manlove, sitting in the House of Lords and +presenting Colonial improvement measures, for India in particular; no +longer "Dicky" Manlove, irresponsible adventurer, but carrying the +ponderous dignity of the name.... It was all very impressive....</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dalhousie is giving a lawn party to-night," he announced, taking a +chair. "Impromptu. She told me to drag you along, if you'd come."</p> + +<p>"Sorry," returned Trent. "I'm leaving for Benares early in the morning. +I'll be occupied to-night. Orders from Delhi."</p> + +<p>Manlove withdrew a cigarette case from under his tunic, opened it, took +out a smoke and placed it between his lips before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Deuce you say! Not transferred?"</p> + +<p>"Temporarily detached; special service. You and Conningsby will have to +take charge while I'm away." He smiled. "Been reading the papers +lately?"</p> + +<p>Manlove lighted his cigarette, glancing furtively at Trent. The latter +was staring into the blue haze of smoke, half humorously, as though he +found something amusing in the vaporous clouds.</p> + +<p>"Certainly"—thus Manlove.</p> + +<p>"Anything new about the jewels?"</p> + +<p>Manlove smiled to himself. He hadn't lived in the same house with Arnold +Trent for fourteen months without learning <i>something</i> about him. The +old sphinx, he thought good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing important"—briefly. "However, I understand, from Granville, +that the Department believes an international thief—Chavigny's his +name—mixed up in it."</p> + +<p>"Wonder where Granville got that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, rumors are plentiful, especially at stations like this where +everybody's chief occupation is talk."</p> + +<p>"That all?"</p> + +<p>Manlove nodded and said nothing, for he knew Trent.</p> + +<p>"Have you approximated the value of the stolen gems?" queried the +latter, then went on: "Millions of pounds! And have you wondered how the +devil they're going to hide the loot, or get it out of India? Such well +known jewels can't be sold—"</p> + +<p>"Unless they're re-cut," put in Manlove. He smiled wisely. "By Kali and +all the other deities, you don't mean that you, expert in cholera and +dysentery, are about to—" He chuckled. "Well, I'm damned!"</p> + +<p>Trent moved to a desk in a corner of the room, unlocked it and took out +a long, official-looking document. This he handed to Manlove, then +resumed his seat. The latter unfolded it and let his eyes travel down +the sheet.</p> + +<p>"Has the heat gone to their heads at Delhi?" he demanded when he had +finished. "Almighty God, why detach a perfectly good doctor, when they +have a whole list of Secret Service men?"</p> + +<p>Trent only smiled. The younger man waved his hand toward the paper.</p> + +<p>"Surely this isn't all?"</p> + +<p>"You know as much as I do. I leave in the morning for Benares. At the +hotel I'm to meet a fellow called Kerth—"</p> + +<p>"Euan Kerth," Manlove interrupted, his eyes upon the document. "You've +heard of him, haven't you? He's the best of his sort in India. He's been +in Tibet; was one of Younghusband's interpreters in nineteen-four. +Speaks Hindustani, Burmese, mandarin Chinese, Tibetan, and God knows +what else! You and he ought to hit it off fairly well together. But go +on."</p> + +<p>"I'm to meet him at the hotel," Trent resumed. "Just what part he plays, +I don't know yet. There I'm also to find a message from this Swaying +Cobra woman, and meet her at a place named in the message. And—well, +that's all." He smiled. "Enlightening, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>As he finished, Manlove strode to the door and tossed away his +cigarette. There he paused, peering out.</p> + +<p>"Where's Ganeesh?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I let him go for the evening. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Just saw some one leave the compound; must have been he." Manlove +returned to his chair. "Trent, I envy you—even if they are balmy at +Delhi. This doctoring heathens isn't all it's colored up to be. It's +getting on my nerves. I even dream about fever and stinking <i>fakirs</i>."</p> + +<p>Trent consulted his wrist-watch. "I have to ride up to Colonel Urqhart's +and make a report. Remember the chap at Meera, Chatterjee? Some <i>hakim</i> +burned his child's stomach with an iron. Of course she died. I'm going +to make an example of him." He rose. "I have to wash up a bit. I suppose +you're going to the lawn party?"</p> + +<p>"Think not," decided Manlove. "I'll be here when you return."</p> + +<p>"Care to ride up with me?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'm rather tired."</p> + +<p>Trent went to his bedroom and Manlove lighted another cigarette. He'd +miss the old sphinx, he told himself. Good old Trent! Why hadn't he +married? Frequently he asked himself that question; never Trent. There +must be a reason, he mused, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. Maybe +there had been a woman—a typhoon. The typhoon sort could raise the +deuce with a chap like Trent. Perhaps.... He stifled a yawn. Damn India; +damn its climate. He hadn't taken his leave this season; it was about +due now. A jolly trip home; see the Old Fellow; see "Gray Towers."</p> + +<p>He heard Trent moving about in the rear. He couldn't picture him +sleuthing it. Queer world anyhow. And Benares. What was afoot?</p> + +<p>Another yawn. He flung his half-smoked cigarette through the doorway, +and it fell upon the veranda in a mild shower of sparks, and lay there, +its red tip glowing like a malevolent little eye.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>It was after nine o'clock when Trent rode out of Sahib's Gaya and around +the shoulder of a hill toward his bungalow. A golden moon floated in +nebulous haze—an electric disc that transfused its heat into the night. +The earth steamed and sweltered, and the perfumes of tropical blossoms +stole out of the jungle and exhaled a heavy languor.</p> + +<p>Trent, pipe clamped between his teeth, sweat running into his eyes from +his helmet-band, jogged along, thinking leisurely (as men do in warmer +climates) of the woman of the cobra-bracelet, and thinking more of the +bracelet than the woman. It was one of his peculiarities to collect rare +ornaments; among his curios he had a bangle of a Nepalese princess, a +Burmese bell from a pagoda in the Pyinmana district, and a +silver-chased, turquoise-inset teapot from Tibet. The bracelet the woman +wore was finely wrought, and its design not of the ordinary; this he +recognized, even though he had but a glimpse of it. A king-cobra with a +lifted hood. And the wearer.... Why had she lowered her veil—why had +she denied that she came from his compound? Mystery.... But, he +reflected, mysteries were not rare; mysteries, to such as he, in the +jungle; in the ruins and tumbled grandeur of ancient temples; in the +dim, dark bazaars, spice-reeking, where filth mocks British law, and +Love and Death are one....</p> + +<p>A white figure, ahead in the scented gloom, broke into his thoughts, a +figure that at first was distinguishable only as a stain of pallor on +the roadway. Trent experienced a quickening of interest. She of the +cobra-bracelet? No. He could see now. Not a woman; a native. The man was +moving at a swift gait, almost running; but as he drew nearer, he +halted, looking about irresolutely, nervously. And at that moment (he +was not more than ten yards away) Trent recognized him and reined in his +mare.</p> + +<p>"Chatterjee!" he called. "D'ye want to see me?"</p> + +<p>The native did not answer, only fixed upon him a mute, terrified stare, +and crashed through the high, dense undergrowth at the side of the road. +The sounds of his flight grew fainter as he plunged deeper into the +jungle.</p> + +<p>Trent stared at the spot where he disappeared. His first impulse was to +follow—an impulse that he cast aside. Now that was odd, he thought. +What in flaming hades was the matter with him? For a moment he sat in +mystified silence, then he kicked his mount lightly in the flanks.</p> + +<p>A day of incidents. First, the dispatch from Delhi, then the veiled +woman, now this encounter. From where had the native come? The bungalow? +Perhaps he was merely on his way from Meera, for the road passed his +quarters. But he knew natives never walked when it was possible to ride. +Anyhow, that didn't explain his actions. Confound it, he'd have trouble +with that fellow yet! This as he branched off from the main highway and +clattered along the driveway to his compound.</p> + +<p>Not until he reached the gate did he observe that the house was dark, +squatting in gloomy secrecy among the surrounding trees. At first it +puzzled him; then he decided that Manlove had probably gone to bed.</p> + +<p>When his mare was stabled, he made his way into the living-room. In the +dark he struck his knee on a sharp projection and swore. He fumbled for +the light-switch; blinked in the sudden glare. A yawn and an indolent +stretch. He'd get a good sleep and—</p> + +<p>"Hello!" he exclaimed, as his eyes trailed across the room to an +over-turned chair. "What the devil!"</p> + +<p>A piece of bronze, some Hindu god, lay on the floor, gleaming +sinisterly, and a picture—its regular place was on the desk—had fallen +to the floor. An insidious thought took root in his brain. With quick +strides he reached Manlove's room. It was empty, the bed unused. Its +desertion hurt him—a queer sensation, that. He whirled about, returned +to the living-room and halted, irresolute.</p> + +<p>"Manlove!"</p> + +<p>Silly to call, he thought. Perhaps Manlove had gone to the lawn party. +But the over-turned chair and the idol did not look well. Thieves? +Or.... Suddenly the meeting with Chatterjee shaped into significance. He +knew the workings of the native brain, and a frightful possibility +suggested itself.</p> + +<p>An electric torch lay on the table. He reached for it; stood with his +hands poised in the air, thought temporarily suspended from action. For +his eyes, lowered involuntarily, fastened upon a small, dark spot on the +matting.</p> + +<p>Regaining the power to move, he stooped. A sudden sickness seized him. +Unmistakable. But why did blood affect him? Blood. The discovery added a +spark to his suspicions. His imagination painted a swift, vivid picture. +The look of terror on Chatterjee's face.... Manlove, the innocent.... +But no! It couldn't be!</p> + +<p>In possession of the torchlight, he strode out upon the veranda. There +he discovered a trail of spots identical with that on the matting, a +trail that led down the steps. He made a quick search of the compound. A +sense of helplessness smote him. Manlove, perhaps somewhere within +calling distance, yet unable to summon him....</p> + +<p>He halted at the gate. On the left was jungle, dark and hushed; on the +right, a few lights in the nearest bungalow. Across the road was the +mouth of a narrow path which he knew led to the ruins of an old temple +hidden behind the rank foliage. At thought of the ruins an impulse made +him forsake the compound and follow the path.</p> + +<p>Less than two hundred yards from the road the growths thinned. Looming +before him, spectral in the yellow mystery of the moonlight, was the +temple. The outer court was throttled with weeds. Luxurious vines +trailed from ruined pillar to ruined wall and wove a sanctuary for +vipers. At the end of an avenue of crumbled columns gaped the black +entrance of the inner court. An impalpable vapor steamed up from the +moist plants and bathed the ruins in a dream-like haze, as the blurred +waters of the ocean engulf and make fantastic the myriad rock-palaces of +the sea-bottoms.</p> + +<p>The dark inner court challenged Trent, and he snapped off the light and +moved between the stone sentinels. A power, terrifying in its vagueness, +pressed upon him, locking his muscles in a tension. A bat, startled out +of hiding by the ring of his footsteps, flapped up from the parapet and +wheeled across the moon's face. But for that, and an occasional rasp of +an insect, the temple was swathed in a hush.</p> + +<p>In the doorway of the inner court he paused. He groped for the shattered +frame; clutched something tangible; fought against a terrible paralysis.</p> + +<p>Yellow moonshine poured through a rent in the ceiling, drenched the +walls and formed a honey-hued pool on the flagging.</p> + +<p>In the wan light lay a human form.</p> + +<p>A deadly inertia coiled about Trent's brain and body. For a moment he +was unable to think, to do other than struggle against the constricting +coils of horror. But at length he broke the rigor. A few steps brought +him to the pool of moonlight. He knelt; switched on the torch; saw the +face. Dull agony spread from his throat to his limbs. In that instant he +seemed to slip back through a millennium and endure the concentrated +pains of a hundred bodies—a flame of cosmic anguish burning down +through the dim jungles of time.</p> + +<p>Automatically his hand went to the heart, but before his trained fingers +touched the breast he knew that to feel was useless. Dark moisture +stained the tunic-front. He unbuttoned the garments. Knife wound! +Manlove had been dead at least a half hour.</p> + +<p>The infinitesimal fraction of a minute that he knelt there might have +been an hour for the multitude of irrelevances that sped through his +brain. Orders. Benares.... And he had cursed when he struck his knee! +Had Manlove ridden with him to Colonel Urqhart's this would not have +happened. Urqhart; what an absurd name.... Murder. In a vague manner he +wondered who had done it; in a vague manner he felt angry. Dead. +Impossible. This must be a dream, a horrid nightmare. Damn these +nightmares! It was the heat ... heat.... His comrade.... Kasvin.... +Kut-el-Amara. And this was the end! The futility of things swept him, a +chill and shuddersome tide that served to wash some of the tangles from +his thoughts.</p> + +<p>He rose. He felt giddy, and the inner court, with its shadows, its pool +of moonshine, swam in a throat-gripping vertigo. But it passed swiftly. +Out of the mental chaos emerged a coherency: perhaps the one who had +done this was still in or about the temple. The remembrance of +Chatterjee immediately appeared to deny it. A solution of the affair +unreeled quickly. Chatterjee, the avenger ... a fatal mistake. That +explained the native's look of terror when he met Trent on the road, +explained his flight.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, Trent made a search of the ruins and returned to the body. +The face, outlined boyishly in the pallid moonlight, commanded his gaze +with hypnotic insistence. Now that the first acute horror had dwindled, +he was conscious of an abysmal loneliness, an ache that habited every +nerve and fiber of his being.</p> + +<p>He must notify Colonel Urqhart. But the body, what of that? He couldn't +leave it lying in this den of vipers. The very suggestion horrified him, +although he knew the body was but a husk of flesh. He had some +authority; he'd act on his own responsibility.</p> + +<p>An involuntary dread ran through him as he slipped his hands under the +inert form and lifted it. His sight blurred, but he moved with a steady +stride across the courtyard and through the gate. Upon reaching the +bungalow, he laid the body upon the bed in Manlove's room. When he +switched on the light, the boyish features again compelled his gaze. +Manlove had told him of the dream of "Gray Towers," of the House of +Lords; and the memory of it, returning through the stupefaction that +still surrounded him, sent a poignant charge into his throat. To have +his dream perish like this! Whatever a man's philosophy of immortality, +death remains a shock.</p> + +<p>He was about to leave the room when his attention was arrested by the +gleam of a bright object in the lifeless hand. He was forced to pry open +the fingers. The gleaming thing proved to be a piece of reddish stone. +Coral. It was oval-shaped and some six inches in circumference. An +intricate design was overlaid in silver upon the smooth salmon-hued +surface—a human figure. The oval was edged with silver, and at the top +was a tiny clasp. The clasp was broken. He studied the silver design. It +was evidently some sort of deity, but different from any he had ever +seen—an ugly little god with three eyes.</p> + +<p>What was it? he wondered—part of a necklace, an ornament? The broken +clasp testified that it had been wrenched from its fastening. Perhaps in +a struggle—<i>the</i> struggle....</p> + +<p>Temporarily dismissing it from his thoughts, he left it lying upon the +table and went to the telephone.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>Meanwhile, at the dâk bungalow, which looks out upon the main street of +Sahib's Gaya, the <i>khansammah</i>, a ghostly figure in his white garments, +sat on the covered portico and watched a gharry approach in a whirl of +dust.</p> + +<p>The carriage was jerked to a halt at the compound, and from its dim +interior appeared a form.</p> + +<p>It was the strange Memsahib, the <i>khansammah</i> observed to himself.</p> + +<p>Strange, indeed, he reflected; Memsahibs rarely wore veils, and those +they affected were gossamer, cobweb-like affairs that hid not a feature. +But this Memsahib wore an almost opaque veil, a veil which she lifted +only to eat and when in her room. She had a beautiful face, and well +that she covered it from befouling eyes. For the <i>khansammah</i> was a +Mohammedan.</p> + +<p>She was very generous, this Memsahib, oh, very generous, indeed! True, +she asked many questions—about Major Trent Sahib and his friend, the +other Dakktar Sahib—but she paid for the information. She had been at +the dâk bungalow only since morning, and he hoped she would remain +longer. Business was none too good.</p> + +<p>Thus ran his thoughts as the woman alighted from the gharry and crossed +the compound.</p> + +<p>When she reached the steps he rose and rendered a salaam. As usual, her +veil was lowered. He sensed a repressed excitement in the manner that +her white hand closed upon the post of the veranda; a bracelet shone +softly on her arm.</p> + +<p>"<i>Khansammah</i>," she began, in a low, vibrant voice that made him think +of the golden tongue of a certain singing-nautch he had once heard, +"When does the next train leave for Mughal Sarai? Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Hah, Memsahib!"—with regret. "Must you leave? Has not my +hospitalit<i>ee</i> been all the Memsahib could—"</p> + +<p>"Of course," she broke in, impatiently. "But the train?"</p> + +<p>"At midnight, Memsahib. But it is unlike<i>lee</i> the Memsahib can get +accommodations, for there is ver<i>ee</i> much travel at this time of the +year—oh, ver<i>ee</i> much!"</p> + +<p>"At midnight," she repeated, as though she had heard only that.</p> + +<p>Then she entered—and the <i>khansammah</i> thought he saw her pause, falter, +as with a sudden stroke of weakness.</p> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<p>And again meanwhile—</p> + +<p>The moon paled, sank. Its senescent glamour lingered upon the towering +plinth and fluted pillars of the temple of the Sacred Bo-tree, seven +miles south of Gaya-town. A warm wind fretted the tapering leaves of the +holy tree; the sunken courtyard was a cistern of gloom where tiny yellow +lights swam like foam-flecks on a dark sea. These flecks of light, +forming a semi-circle about the Sacred Bo-tree, were many little +butter-lamps. Their glow revealed a man seated on the Diamond Throne +(just as Gaudama sat on the same spot in a buried century and +contemplated his Dewa Laka); revealed his yellow features, his tonsured +skull and magenta robes; revealed the stone image of Buddha that looked +down from the shrine with an expression of serene omniscience; revealed +the row of crimson-togaed monks that knelt within the semi-circle of +butter-lamps and murmured prayers.</p> + +<p>The man on the Diamond Throne sat motionless. Only his lips moved, and +his eyes. A hint of guile showed in his face. He repeated a <i>mantra</i> +automatically, for his thoughts were elsewhere.</p> + +<p>This was no other than his Holiness the Grand Lama of Tsagan-dhuka, who +had pilgrimaged from his Tibetan abby to the Sacred Bo-tree—the first +journey of the sort to be made by a lama of high rank since the visit of +that venerable pontiff, the Tashi Lama.... Behold him, then, in the +magenta robes of his office, squatting upon the Diamond Throne, reciting +a Buddhist prayer.</p> + +<p>The patter of bare feet on stone caused him to shift his gaze to the +gloom beyond the courtyard. His black eyes squinted, and he traced the +outline of a palanquin. The primitive conveyance came to a halt. A +figure in loose robes took shape between the parted curtains; the light +of the butter-lamps fell upon a man in scarlet, a man who descended into +the sunken courtyard and approached the Diamond Throne. No mere priest, +this newcomer, for he wore a mitre-shaped hat; a very obese, very +pompous personage as he waddled up to his Holiness of Tsagan-dhuka.</p> + +<p>The crimson cardinal spoke; and had anyone who understood Tibetan been +standing close by, he would have heard:</p> + +<p>"His Excellency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo has arrived."</p> + +<p>The Grand Lama ceased his <i>mantra</i>.</p> + +<p>"Tell him I shall be with him when I have finished my reflections."</p> + +<p>The cardinal bowed and took his leave. The curtains of the palanquin +blotted out his corpulent person. Again the patter of naked feet sounded +above the surreptitious whispering of the Bo-tree.</p> + +<p>A cryptic smile slid across the Grand Lama's eyes; the lids dropped to +hide it. He resumed the prayer.</p> + +<p>"<i>Om mani Padme hum....</i>"</p> + +<p>Thus he sat—just as Gaudama sat on the same spot in a buried century. +However, the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was not contemplating his Dewa Laka.</p> + +<p>Above him the plinth of the temple strove skyward, secure in the +knowledge of the riddle of Life and Death.</p> + + +<h3>6</h3> + +<p>A half hour after Trent took the receiver from the telephone, Colonel +Urqhart and Merriton, Head of the Police, rattled into his compound in a +dog-cart. Accompanying them were several officers to whom Trent spoke by +name.</p> + +<p>"... And you found him in the ruined temple!" exclaimed the colonel, in +the living-room, when the customary formalities had been observed. "Good +God, major, what a pity! The poor, poor boy! His father and I were +friends, y' know."</p> + +<p>"I'm positive Chatterjee did it," declared Trent. "You see...." And he +told of the encounter on the road and the subsequent events.</p> + +<p>"What were you saying, major?" asked the Head of the Police, coming out +of the bedroom just as he finished. "But first—what's this?"</p> + +<p>He held out the oval of silver-overlaid coral, and Trent explained how +he had found it.</p> + +<p>"Some sort of native charm, I dare say," observed Merriton. "Tell me +about this Chatterjee."</p> + +<p>When Trent had retold his story, the Head of the Police enquired:</p> + +<p>"Where's the telephone? Ah! I see it!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was nearly midnight when Colonel Urqhart and Merriton prepared to +leave.</p> + +<p>"Major," said Trent's commanding officer, "you'd better get some sleep. +Eckard and Gerrish will remain to—"</p> + +<p>"Sleep?" echoed Trent.</p> + +<p>"You'll need it if you're going in the morning—and you <i>are</i> going? +Orders, y' know. There's nothing you can do here. I'll personally attend +to everything."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll go." This from Trent as he passed his hand wearily over +his forehead. "However, I shall sit up to-night. Eckard and Gerrish can +remain—but I'd rather be alone."</p> + +<p>The colonel cast a glance toward Manlove's room.</p> + +<p>"Poor chap!" he sighed. He extended his hand. "Well, good luck, major. I +probably won't see you again before you leave."</p> + +<p>They shook hands, and the colonel and Merriton departed. Not until the +sounds of the dog-cart had dwindled did Trent discover that the Head of +Police had left the piece of coral on the table. His first impulse was +to call after him, but he decided to give it to him later, and dropped +it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>Through the seemingly endless night Trent kept vigil beside the +curtained bed where Manlove lay. He sat huddled in a chair, his face +expressionless; frequently he rose to pace the floor; on several +occasions one of the men in the next room heard him murmuring to +himself. Shortly after midnight (about the time the veiled Memsahib's +train roared out of Gaya toward Mughal Sarai) it began to rain. That was +the prelude to a storm that crashed and tore in a fury about the +bungalow. In the dead silence following, when the damp heat shut in and +stars sparkled in the rain-swept sky, jackals chattered mournfully in +the jungle.</p> + +<p>The last stars passed and the earth awoke in a bath of gold. Ganeesh, +with a frightened, awed expression, crept in hesitatingly with tea, and +behind him came one of the officers.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to get ready to leave now, Eckard," Trent said laconically to +the officer, when he had gulped down the hot liquid.</p> + +<p>Twenty minutes later, washed and shaved, he came out of his bedroom and +found Colonel Urqhart waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"Just came by to tell you Merriton hasn't found Chatterjee yet," +announced the colonel. "Cleared out, it seems. But they'll get him."</p> + +<p>"Uncommonly nice of you, Colonel," returned Trent. His face was drawn, +his eyes veined with red, and a pallor underlay his tanned skin.</p> + +<p>The colonel waved his hand toward the door. "My cart's outside. I'll +drive you to the station. 'Bout time, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Trent nodded. He strode to the door of Manlove's room and halted on the +threshold, looking with dry eyes into the hushed apartment. A +diamond-winged dragonfly lay dreaming on the window-sill ... the white +face shone through the mosquito-curtain.... Thus Trent stood for a +moment, then he turned and joined the colonel.</p> + +<p>He talked very little during the ride to the station, and Colonel +Urqhart did not press conversation. In the midst of chattering native +passengers and a few whites, with an engine puffing heat into the +already suffocating air, he parted with the colonel,—a handshake and a +few perfunctory words—and settled down in his carriage.</p> + +<p>Not until the train jerked out of the station did the strain snap. He +relaxed wearily upon the leather-lined seat, a steady hammer of pain at +the back of his neck. He felt suddenly alone, intensely alone—a +sensation that carried him back to his boyhood, to a night when he awoke +in a strange, black-dark room. He shuddered involuntarily. His eyelids +burned. Sleep—sleep. The engine seemed to purr that one word, and the +swaying and rocking of the carriage lulled him into drowsiness.</p> + +<p>He fell asleep, suddenly, with a picture of the hushed room—the +diamond-winged dragonfly—painted upon his vision.</p> + + +<h3>7</h3> + +<p>Trent was brought out of slumber by the sound of his name. He opened his +eyes and perceived that the train was at a standstill. Heat pressed +close about him, stifling him. Thrusting his head out of the window, he +read the name of the station. He was but a short distance from Gaya. A +telegraph messenger was walking along the platform shrilling:</p> + +<p>"Major-rr Tr-rent Sahib!"</p> + +<p>Trent called him, and as the train pulled out he tore open the envelope.</p> + +<p>"Chatterjee found in river this morning," the message ran. "Stabbed. Let +you hear particulars at Benares. Urqhart."</p> + +<p>For some time after Trent read it he stared out of the carriage-window. +Chatterjee—stabbed. He let the words filter and re-filter through his +brain, let them settle and sink in. They gave a new significance to the +encounter with the native on the previous night. Chatterjee—stabbed. +Murdered? Or had he taken his own life—in remorse? But the river.... +No. Murdered. That word stood out like wet type. Chatterjee—stabbed. +Why? Obvious enough. The native's look of fright explained that. Perhaps +he knew who slew Manlove. Chatterjee, whose lips were sealed. Blind +alley. He faced a wall behind which was hidden the identity of Manlove's +slayer. Manlove, who, to his knowledge, hadn't an enemy—</p> + +<p>He stiffened at a sudden recollection; brought his fist down upon his +thigh. Idiot! Colossal idiot! Why had not this occurred to him before? +It was fantastic, yet....</p> + +<p>He procured from his pocket a pencil and an envelope, and scribbled on +the back of the latter—scribbled a description of the woman he had met +on the Meera road; of the cobra-bracelet, of the encounter and his +suspicions. This he would send to Colonel Urqhart at the next station.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, he read it, struck out a few words; folded the +envelope; returned it to his pocket, and settled back in the seat to +reflect upon the tragic immutability of circumstance.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>HOUSE OF THE SWAYING COBRA</h3> + + +<p>Trent, rested only by short naps on the way, stepped from the railway +carriage in the Cantonment Station, in Benares, and, after a ride past +dusty red brick barracks, reached the hotel—a series of small houses, +with one main building. To his disappointment he found no message from +Colonel Urqhart. Nor was Euan Kerth there. Mr. Kerth had arrived, he was +told, but was not in at present. Trent left word to be notified directly +Kerth returned, and went to his room, in one of the out-buildings.</p> + +<p>Several hours later, refreshed by a sleep, washed and shaved, he seated +himself on the portico to wait for Euan Kerth. On one end, peddlers were +besieging a group of tourists; on the other, a girl with bronze-colored +hair sat reading, a native in a flowered chintz coat drowsing at her +feet. There was something slumberous and torpid in the scene. India, +like the world, relapsed into a lethargy after the tumult of war.</p> + +<p>When he slipped his hand into his tunic pocket for his cheroots, he +found, instead of smokes, a hard, cold object. Withdrawing it, he +recognized, not without some surprise, the oval of coral he had found in +Manlove's hand. He remembered that Merriton had left it on the table in +his bungalow, and he had put it in his pocket with the intention of +returning it to the Head of Police before leaving Gaya. He would have to +send it back, now that a new complication had arisen—namely, the death +of Chatterjee; it might prove a valuable clue.</p> + +<p>He studied it. Time had mellowed the design and smoothed the once-sharp +edges of the silver that rimmed the oval. Coral, he knew, was rarely +used for purposes of ornamentation in India. Too, the three-eyed deity, +a hideous figure, puzzled him, though he was by no means unversed in the +symbolism of the many religions of the land. Coral and silver. The +combination haunted him, was linked with an illusive fragment in his +memory. It came to him suddenly. Tibet. Coral and silver from Tibet. +While he was stationed at Darjeeling he frequently saw men from Phari +and Gyangste with coral and silver ornaments.</p> + +<p>He continued to stare at the oval. The ugly face of the three-eyed +little god seemed to mock him; challenged him to fathom the power that +impelled these waves of mystery that lapped up and touched him, and +receded with their secrets. It brought a vision, too, of the hushed room +at Gaya.</p> + +<p>That was a hurt which only the ointment of time could heal. The tissues +of human relationship mend slowly. His friendship for Manlove had taken +seed deeply, in a measure unconsciously, nurtured by months of intimate +companionship; and now his sensitive nature tingled and throbbed at the +violence with which it had been wrenched from its roots.</p> + +<p>With the murder looming in his thoughts, his mission shrank. Adventure! +Fabulous isles!... Queer how last night's stars lose their fever and +passion when they become a memory. But perhaps the work would distract +him. At least it was different, and in his present mental condition the +very thought of medicines and human ills was intolerable.</p> + +<p>Shadows lengthened between the buildings; the peddlers and tourists +disappeared; the bronze-haired girl had closed her book and lay back in +the chair, staring into space. Upon her he unconsciously focussed his +attention, and as he contemplated her, impersonally and as he would an +inanimate object, she shifted her eyes to him, stared coolly, turned +away, rose and entered her room.</p> + +<p>And Trent forgot her.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, as he was at the point of making another inquiry +about Euan Kerth, he saw a man leave the central building and move +toward the portico where he sat—a man who approached and spoke his +name.</p> + +<p>"Major Trent?"</p> + +<p>They shook hands. Kerth was an immaculately dressed fellow, with smooth, +olive-tinted features. A rather Mephistophelian face. A small black +mustache, carefully waxed, helped the suggestion. His hair was +shiny-black, as were his eyes, and his dark complexion was only +emphasized by white twills and a white felt hat. His fingers were long +and slim, almost too well-shaped to be masculine. Something very fine +and sleek, Gallic rather than Anglo-Saxon—that was Euan Kerth.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologized in a +too-long-in-the-tropics drawl. "I've been with the Commissioner. You +arrived this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Trent nodded. He saw behind the assumed languorous air a keen, searching +glance; Kerth was measuring him as he was measuring Kerth. He came to +the tentative decision that he wasn't quite sure he liked him.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, won't you?"—perfunctorily.</p> + +<p>Kerth dropped with lazy grace into a chair and sat with his legs +sprawled wide apart. He proffered some of the blackest cheroots Trent +had ever seen.</p> + +<p>"My Tamils," he explained, with an indolent smile. When the smokes were +lighted, he asked: "Just how much do you know of this little party we're +about to start, major?"</p> + +<p>"As little as possible, I think."</p> + +<p>Kerth puffed on his cheroot. "Ever heard of this woman who styles +herself the Swaying Cobra?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Neither have I." A pause. "Of course you've heard of Chavigny?"</p> + +<p>Trent's answer was a smile.</p> + +<p>"We almost got him the other day, in Delhi. We traced him to a native +serai—Queen's Serai; but he eluded us. Left only a few blood-stains on +the floor of his room. Blood-stains sometimes tell a lot, but they +didn't in this instance. But Chavigny's bottled up in Delhi. Yet"—Kerth +smiled—"yet I wouldn't be at all surprised if he pulled the wool over +the Department's eyes. Of course you think he's involved in this +affair?"</p> + +<p>Trent's eyes followed the spiral of smoke from his cheroot.</p> + +<p>"He might be," was the slow reply, "and, again, he might not. What does +Sir Francis think?"</p> + +<p>A wry smile. "He rarely confides in the Department. At any rate, I don't +fancy we'll encounter this Chavigny. You know he's been running at large +under the name of Leroux—Gilbert Leroux. Remember that; might be useful +some time. If you want my opinion—But I'm sure you don't. Now, as for +this Swaying Cobra—"</p> + +<p>But he was interrupted as a porter appeared and salaamed.</p> + +<p>"Major Trent Sahib?" he enquired.</p> + +<p>Trent nodded and received an envelope with his name written upon it.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me"—this to Kerth as he tore off the end.</p> + +<p>The missive was written in English, in feminine handwriting, and carried +a faint, illusive odor—that of sandalwood.</p> + +<blockquote><p>GREETINGS!</p> + +<p>I, the Swaying Cobra, welcome you to the Sacred City and beg +the honor of a visit from you to-night. If you will be at the +shop of Abdul Kerim, in the Sadar Bazaar, at eight-thirty +o'clock, my trusted servant, Chandra Lal, will meet you and +conduct you to my humble dwelling.</p> + +<p>Your faithful servant,</p> + +<p>THE SWAYING COBRA</p></blockquote> + +<p>When he had read it, he handed it to Kerth, who let his eyes run down +the page and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we move to the dining-hall?" the latter suggested. "I'll finish +what I have to say there."</p> + +<p>Trent assented, and they rose and left the veranda.</p> + +<p>As the purple-tongued shadows lapped them up, the last of the row of +doors opened, and the girl with the bronze hair came out and moved after +them toward the dining-hall.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>"In other words," said Kerth, as a soft-shod "boy" arrayed the meal +before them, "you are to deliver yourself blindfolded into the hands of +this Swaying Cobra, and if she says go to the moon, then, according to +the Old Man, you're to go there, without questioning."</p> + +<p>Trent listened, apparently abstractedly, for he was studying the +amazingly clear profile of the girl at the next table. Punkahs, worked +by electricity, disturbed straying tendrils of reddish-gold hair.</p> + +<p>"The woman mystifies me as much as the affair itself," Kerth went on. +"Who is she? It's evident the Old Man trusts her—to a degree. From her +name, 'Swaying Cobra,' I'd judge she's a nautch, yet, on the other hand, +I'm inclined to think she's above that. Fact is, the Old Man was too +infernally secretive about her; seemed afraid he'd tell me something. +However, he isn't absolutely sure of her. If he was, I wouldn't be +here."</p> + +<p>A tourist, was Trent's conclusion. (For he was still studying the girl.) +She choked over the greasy, peppery curry concoction. A moment later her +soft voice floated to him as she spoke to her "boy."</p> + +<p>"Confound him! Is he listening to me?" Kerth wondered. Then aloud, "My +part is this: I'm to rig myself up as a native—a Rajput—and accompany +you as your servant. My name will be Rawul Din."</p> + +<p>Trent's eyes turned sharply from the girl to Kerth. He noticed, +incidentally, that the latter's hair would need no lamp-black to make it +like a native's.</p> + +<p>"Suppose she objects?"</p> + +<p>Kerth smiled—an expression that was almost sinister because of his +dark, satanic features.</p> + +<p>"That's the point: she <i>must not</i> object!" After a pause he resumed: +"The Old Man wanted that firmly impressed. In some way or other she must +be forced to agree to that condition. You're the diplomat of this +expedition; that means it's up to you. So said the Old Man. I'm to be +the connecting link between you and the Department."</p> + +<p>"Is that keeping faith with her?"</p> + +<p>"According to the letter of the contract, yes; morally, no. As I +understand it, she demanded your word of honor you wouldn't +'communicate' any information. Therefore, you must not; what I don't +hear and learn for myself is the Department's loss. Neat way of beating +the devil around the bush, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>It was not visible upon Trent's face whether or not he agreed with +Kerth. However, his next question hinted negatively.</p> + +<p>"If she discovers you're not Rawul Din, the Rajput, what then?"</p> + +<p>Kerth shrugged. "<i>Adrushtam!</i>" he said, which means, "It is Fate!" Then +he lighted a cheroot and leaned upon his elbows, a queer smile lurking +in the corners of his mouth. "It means this, major," he continued. "If +she's loyal, as the Old Man believes, she will either be very angry and +throw over the whole business, or overlook it and simply demand that +espionage be discontinued. But"—his face, veiled by smoke, looked more +satanic than ever—"if she isn't loyal, then—well, we'll both +probably...." He finished with a lift of his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>Trent watched the bronze-haired girl as she left the dining-hall—as did +others, for she was a type to draw eyes.</p> + +<p>"To-night's the test," Kerth observed aloud. "If you succeed in forcing +your point, good. Otherwise, I return to Delhi." He looked at his watch. +"It's close to seven now, and my metamorphosis will require some time. +Shall we adjourn?"</p> + +<p>They did.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>Before Trent left his room he placed the oval of coral in his handbag; +then he went out on the portico to smoke and watch the stars gather +about the cleaving silhouette of a church steeple across from the hotel +grounds.</p> + +<p>At one end of the veranda two shadowy forms were conversing; a woman's +voice drifted to him, a soft voice that slurred and caressed the words +it spoke. It was vaguely familiar, and in a detached manner he +identified it with the girl of the dining-hall.</p> + +<p>The phosphorescent hands of his wrist-watch crept to five minutes to +eight before Euan Kerth put in his appearance. A heavy footstep +announced a turbaned man. He halted in the light cast from a window; +executed a salaam. He wore white breeches, an alpaca coat and a white +shawl. A huge turban shadowed a brown face and a carefully waxed +mustache. Had it not been for that and the slim hands, Trent would not +have recognized him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Salaam, Huzoor!</i>" was his greeting. "Is the <i>Huzoor</i> ready?"—this in +the manner of a native trying to affect an Oxford accent.</p> + +<p>Trent nodded and rose, and Kerth fell in behind.</p> + +<p>"There's no need to take a gharry," said Kerth. "The Sadar Bazaar isn't +far."</p> + +<p>Their walk led them past the dusty red brick barracks that Trent had +seen that afternoon, and within a short while they reached the Sadar +Bazaar, where, after many inquiries, they were directed to the shop of +Abdul Kerim—a dingy little hole in a narrow lane. A native was lounging +in the doorway, but at their approach he straightened up and salaamed.</p> + +<p>"Major Trent Sahib?" he queried respectfully, with a grin that displayed +betel-stained teeth. "I am Chandra Lal." Then he looked inquisitively at +Kerth. "Who is this, Sahib?"</p> + +<p>"My servant."</p> + +<p>Chandra Lal shook his head. "I was instructed to bring only Major Trent +Sahib."</p> + +<p>"But it is my wish that my bearer accompany me."</p> + +<p>The native shifted uncomfortably. "The sahib's wish is law; yet if I do +other than I have been bidden I will be a disobedient servant." Another +glimpse of scarlet teeth; a rather nervous smile. "So what shall I do, +Sahib?"</p> + +<p>"My man shall go—<i>maloom hai</i>!"—sternly. "I will be responsible to +your mistress."</p> + +<p>Chandra Lal saluted. "<i>Achcha</i>, Sahib! I have a carriage in the street!"</p> + +<p>At the mouth of the lane a landau was waiting, and when Trent and Kerth +were seated on cushioned springs, Chandra Lal flicked his whip.</p> + +<p>Out of the Cantonment they were whirled, and eastward into the old city, +where constricted streets refused passage to any vehicle. They drew up +by an oval-shaped, tree-grown expanse, and the landau was left in charge +of a man who was waiting for that particular purpose. Then began a +journey on foot that was memorable to the two Englishmen because of the +muddle of dim, narrow highways into which it took them. Chandra Lal +leading, they percolated through streets and passages that stank of +every unpleasantness known to Indian cities; mere clefts where the stars +swam at distances immeasurable; stairs, tunneled lanes and alleys, and +amidst ramshackle, tumbled buildings and temples and shrines.</p> + +<p>Trent's sense of direction was completely baffled when they came at +length to a quarter where the houses were more pretentious—a long +street of several-storied dwellings, of projecting eaves, of white walls +and of latticed windows that hinted at the lurking mystery of zenana and +harem.</p> + +<p>Into one of these houses the native guided them, up a short flight of +stairs and into a dark room. The air was fresh and cool, fanned by +invisible punkahs. A snap brought on electric lights, and Trent blinked +about him; blinked and suppressed a smile, for he realized the entrance +into the room while it was yet unlighted was done for purely dramatic +effect.</p> + +<p>His eyes, roving around the chamber, missed not a detail; a chamber +wholly amazing and incredible to the Westerner, who rarely, if ever, +sees into the houses of the wealthy, high caste Hindus. Trent, however, +(to whom India was an open book, as much as it ever will be to any white +man) was only mildly surprised. The chandeliers were crystal, tinted +amber by the yellow lights. Brassware and gold brocade (the latter hung +to hide all doors except the one by which they had entered) introduced +an effect of rich browns and richer golds; and a spire of incense +uncoiled from a brazen bowl to be dispelled by punkahs and leave the +heavy fragrance of musk swimming in the air.</p> + +<p>"My mistress will join you presently," announced Chandra Lal. "Be +seated, Sahib, and you will be served with refreshments!"</p> + +<p>Trent flung himself upon a divan pushed against the wall; silken +cushions yielded to his weight and clung to him caressingly. Kerth +dropped cross-legged at his feet.</p> + +<p>Before Chandra Lal made his exit he drew the gold-hued draperies +opposite where Trent reclined, drew bamboo blinds and disclosed a white +arch that framed a portion of a garden. Stone steps sank into a +courtyard where rustling shrubs wove shadows about a fountain; falling +water played flute-notes on a tiled basin; stars scraped a white wall.</p> + +<p>"She's no novice, this cobra," thought Trent. "Wonder if she's anything +like her lair?"</p> + +<p>"... wine," thought Kerth. "And we must drink it ... unless—yes, guile +for guile."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, from behind gold curtains, came the faint whispering of music. +Trent smothered an insurgent desire to laugh. Incongruity, the essence +of India! The music was made by a gramophone! Presently he recognized +the tune—Tschaikowsky's "Serenade Melancholique"!</p> + +<p>He glanced furtively at Kerth. The latter's face was expressionless, his +slim hands toying with the tassel of a cushion. Trent sensed in his +attitude the same wild desire to laugh that possessed him.</p> + +<p>"Steady!" he mentally encouraged himself, fixing his gaze upon a piece +of brassware close by—a <i>lota</i> overlaid with copper and chased with +mythological figures. "Hmm.... Half as old as India, I'll wager," ran +his musings. "Siva—who the deuce is the other chap?"</p> + +<p>Gold brocades parted and a turbaned servant glided out silently with a +tray, which he placed on a pearl-inlaid table. Claret-hued wine glowed +in twin beaten-brass goblets, rich as melted rubies. One he passed to +Trent, the other to Kerth. Then he made a soundless departure.</p> + +<p>Inwardly, Trent smiled. And drained his goblet. The gramophone ceased; +only the music of the fountain stole to him, with a breath of fragrant +shrubs that made the incense seem sensuous and heavy.</p> + +<p>Again the brass <i>lota</i> claimed his gaze; held it until he heard a sigh +from Kerth and looked down to see the latter's eyelids droop, to see his +eyes close and his chin sink into his white shawl.</p> + +<p>"Damn!" he swore, almost inaudibly, and his hand sprang to Kerth's +shoulder and gripped it none too gently. "Rawul Din!"</p> + +<p>As he pronounced the name, Kerth fell against the cushions of the divan, +drugged in sleep. Some one laughed—a laugh that rippled low in the +throat. Trent did not look toward the sound immediately, although that +was his first impulse. He let his eyes turn naturally and rest, at first +incredulously, upon the woman who had entered and who stood regarding +him with a mocking smile. The blood flooded his temples; after a second +it receded, leaving him cold, numb, with a tingling sense of unreality. +He did not rise; merely stared; and presently forced a smile.</p> + +<p>"Sarojini Nanjee," he said, trying to put down the emotions that +declared insurrection against his will. And he repeated, "Sarojini +Nanjee, the Swaying Cobra?" He smiled. "I confess, I never once +suspected."</p> + +<p>Outlined against the gold draperies she stood, dressed as nautches +dress, only with more richness and without the customary head-scarf. Her +garments were full and as shimmery as cobwebs in the sun, and confined +at the waist with a goldcloth girdle that matched the tint of her +marvelously smooth skin. Her eyes burned under heavy lids, burned and +mocked him; and by their feverish brightness he understood that this +meeting wrought in her an excitement equal to his, although she was +prepared for it.</p> + +<p>"I did not intend that you should suspect," she told him as she moved to +the divan where he reclined. "I knew you would not come if you did."</p> + +<p>Not until then did he rise. He smiled, and the smile lingered as she +bent over Kerth and drew back the lids from his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why did you disobey me by bringing this man?" she demanded, and, +assured that Kerth was drugged, dropped gracefully upon the cushions.</p> + +<p>"Why did you drug him?" he countered.</p> + +<p>The blood still throbbed at his temples. The irony of it, that they +should meet again! And on this mission! She was as beautiful as ever. +But the lure of her eyes—eyes as purple as moist violets—of her smooth +golden skin and lithe body, no longer affected him. All that was in the +sepulcher of the past. A memory that was like the taste of stale wine +upon the tongue.</p> + +<p>"I put a sleeping powder in his wine because what I am going to say is +for only <i>your</i> ears," she replied.</p> + +<p>"And you're called the Swaying Cobra," he mused, more to himself than to +the woman, "or did another write that note?"</p> + +<p>"I am the Swaying Cobra." A pause. She studied him from under +half-lowered lids. "I dance for those I love. I have only venom for +those I hate."</p> + +<p>The Swaying Cobra! He almost laughed. That was a good symptom, that he +could be amused. A pretty viper! Resolving to let her open the subject +of his visit, he allowed his eyes to wander about the room.</p> + +<p>"Here I cease trying to be an Englishwoman," she said, perceiving his +inquisitive look. He did not fail to register the ring of bitterness +beneath that assertion. "In Jehelumpore and in Delhi it is different, +but here—here I am a Rajputni." Another pause. She laughed, and it was +not without a sting. "I know what you are thinking: that you will refuse +to work with me because—because of a foolish Anglo-Saxon +sentimentalism!"</p> + +<p>She waited for him to respond; he did not.</p> + +<p>"But why not forget that we ever knew each other—and did we ever really +know each other? Why not regard this as an impersonal affair? +Individuals do not count where an empire is concerned."</p> + +<p>Trent smiled discreetly and held his tongue.</p> + +<p>"I bear you no rancor," she went on. "On the contrary, I recognize and +respect the qualities that prompted me to select you for this +mission—imagination, wits, honor! Yes, for these things I chose +you—forgetting that when we last saw each other it was not under the +most pleasant circumstances. What is dead is dead."</p> + +<p>She fell silent, and he spoke for the first time.</p> + +<p>"You've anticipated," he said. "I was sent here to work with you and I +intend to. I've already forgot that we ever met before to-night. What is +dead is dead."</p> + +<p>The woman smiled—but had she known what was in his mind at that moment +she might not have been so pleased. However, she did not. And she lay +back among the brocaded cushions, quite at ease, her hands clasped +behind her head, chin tilted, eyes looking upon him as a cat's eyes look +upon the mouse it is about to play with.</p> + +<p>All of which did not pass unobserved by Trent, who pictured, instead of +a woman lying upon the gold silks with her head lifted, a lithe, +beautiful cobra with its black hood raised above the cushions; pictured +her thus, and returned her gaze with frankness and a smile that disarmed +her.</p> + +<p>She clapped her hands and a servant brought wine. "Were you well +informed as to the terms of the agreement?" she questioned, handing him +a cup of claret-hued liquor.</p> + +<p>"I believe so."</p> + +<p>"That when you leave this house you are no longer Major Arnold Trent, +but another—a well of secrets from which no man can draw, and as mute +as the Buddha at Sarnath?"</p> + +<p>He demonstrated that he could do so by remaining silent. She resumed:</p> + +<p>"And you will do as I direct?"</p> + +<p>"To a reasonable extent," he modified.</p> + +<p>"To a reasonable extent," she repeated, and nodded. "And if you do not +understand a thing, you will trust to my judgment that it is better you +do not understand it."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm to deliver myself blindfolded?" he put in, remembering Kerth's +words of the early evening and glancing involuntarily toward the drugged +figure.</p> + +<p>"You will be told all that it is consistent to tell." She took a sip of +wine and surveyed him. "What is your first question?"</p> + +<p>He thrust back the query that came to his tongue and reverted to his +conservative tactics. He sat as mute and expressionless as the Buddha at +Sarnath. When a moment had passed, she announced:</p> + +<p>"You would like to know how I know what I know about the jewels; is it +not so?"</p> + +<p>"I would like to know <i>what</i> you know first," he corrected.</p> + +<p>She laughed—that laugh that rippled low in her throat.</p> + +<p>"What I know is locked away safely until the time is ripe to bring it +forth. Meanwhile, I will say this much: the jewels have not left India."</p> + +<p>"Then they <i>will</i>?"</p> + +<p>He flashed out the question with the air of a fencer thrusting at a weak +point in his opponent's guard. But foil met foil. She replied:</p> + +<p>"Did I say so, O wise one? Again your thoughts are as clear as a crystal +pool. You say to yourself, 'Such a hoard of jewels cannot be smuggled +out of India; she is trying to confuse me.' But nay! The gods of India +are many and I swear by all of them that every gem that was stolen, down +to the last pearl, can be spirited out of India at any moment it is so +desired—and under the very eyes, nay, the protection, of your Secret +Service!"</p> + +<p>If this statement surprised him, his face did not betray it; he +disconcerted her by looking interestedly at the brass <i>lota</i>. His +indifference drew fire.</p> + +<p>"I said it could be done!" she declared. "Whether it will be is for you +to learn. Oh, you do not deceive me! I know you are consumed with +curiosity, under that shell of yours! Your Raj, well fed and growing fat +with wisdom, thinks it has a clue. Chavigny! The Raj thinks Chavigny is +involved!"</p> + +<p>She leaned closer; peered intently into his eyes. The illusive fragrance +of sandalwood from her hair was not calculated to make him feel any more +at ease. But he did not stir nor wink an eyelid under the close +scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"Chavigny!" she mocked. "Chavigny, the famous thief! Chavigny, whom some +silly Secret Service man tracked to Indore—and lost! Chavigny, driven +into hiding in Delhi! Pah! Let the Raj search for Chavigny, let it turn +Delhi inside out—while we look on and laugh! You—you have imagination! +I can guess what is in your mind, for I, too, have imagination! You have +pictured a gigantic criminal organization—a gem syndicate, let us +say—a flock of jewel vultures who have swooped down and plucked clean +the bones of the empire! And perhaps you even think Chavigny the leader, +yes?"</p> + +<p>She smiled, quite pleased with herself. Then once more she leaned close +to him.</p> + +<p>"What would you think if I told you there is such a band—an order, we +will call it—of jewel vultures who have flown away with riches worth a +dozen rajah's ransoms? What would you think? Only"—she paused +dramatically—"we will omit Chavigny, for if there be such an order he +is not its head nor in it!"</p> + +<p>He drew out his smokes; passed them to her. She refused, and he lighted +a cigarette and flicked the match through the archway. Then he +suggested:</p> + +<p>"Aren't all cards to go on the table?"</p> + +<p>She smiled wisely. "No, I can play them more effectively one by one," +was her retort.</p> + +<p>His brain was working swiftly yet carefully. When he had selected his +words he uttered them.</p> + +<p>"Presuming there is such an order, as you call it, we'll go further and +say that you, by some unguessable means, have become a member; and are +working with them for the Raj."</p> + +<p>She looked her approval. "Presumably"—with a nod. That word was a key +to further knowledge.</p> + +<p>"Then it would seem logical, if I'm to work with you, for me to be +initiated into the mysteries of this order—become a member, in other +words."</p> + +<p>"Go on," she encouraged.</p> + +<p>"So the purpose of this visit, I take it, is for me to learn the 'Open +Sesame' of the order."</p> + +<p>And having said that much, he realized it was sufficient and relapsed +into quiet to let her do the rest of the talking.</p> + +<p>"You have already proved that I chose well," she announced. "But before +I go on you must give me your word of honor that all I have said and +will say, all that occurs until I release you from the promise, will +never be repeated—by word or writing."</p> + +<p>"I give it," he returned quietly.</p> + +<p>She leaned over and deftly drew back the lids from Kerth's eyes; Trent +caught a fleeting glimpse of the whites.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow you leave Benares," she directed, again assured. "You will +take a train in the morning for Bombay and go to an address which I +shall give you; and do as I instruct." Her hand slipped under her waist +and brought out a long blank envelope. "In this envelope are your +instructions. I must have your promise not to read them until you are on +the train to Bombay; then destroy them immediately."</p> + +<p>He inclined his head and placed the envelope in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"You said that when I leave this house I am no longer Major Trent," he +reminded.</p> + +<p>"You are Robert Tavernake, a jeweller, from London. All that is +contained in the instructions."</p> + +<p>"Including the name of the order?"—his curiosity escaping him.</p> + +<p>For answer she clapped her hands and curtains parted to admit a servant +with a black lacquer tray. From the tray she lifted a small box; opened +it as the servant padded out.</p> + +<p>"This is the symbol of the order"—removing a string of beads.</p> + +<p>Had Trent felt any hesitancy about plunging into this blind mission it +would have vanished at sight of the beads—reddish coral beads, with an +oval-shaped pendant overlaid with the silver image of a three-eyed god! +The only emotion he displayed was to moisten his lips; but it required +all the force he could marshal to check the questions that flooded to +his tongue, to mask his surprise and reach with a steady hand for the +beads. Despite his control, it seemed for a moment that he would betray +his nervousness.</p> + +<p>"... the Order of the Falcon," he heard her say. "See—" She inserted +her fingernail under the silver band that finished the coral; the +pendant opened, like a locket. The interior was silver and a name was +engraved upon the back—"Robert Tavernake."</p> + +<p>She snapped the oval shut and he took the beads; twisted them carelessly +around his fingers, until the deep reddish coral seemed like huge drops +of blood welling from his hand. As he caught the significance of the +illusion, he looked up quickly and spoke.</p> + +<p>"Am I to carry these?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>His thoughts swung back to the oval that lay in his handbag at the +hotel.</p> + +<p>"Is it customary to have the name engraved—like this?"—with a gesture.</p> + +<p>After the words left his mouth he realized he had made an indiscreet +move. She looked at him suspiciously, then answered:</p> + +<p>"Customary, yes—among those who possess such beads."</p> + +<p>He did not fail to grasp the insinuation that her speech bore. He +glanced down at the beads in his hand, casually enough; toyed with them; +slipped them into his pocket. His heart had not resumed its normal beat, +but the tension had eased. He fastened his eyes upon the relaxed figure +of Kerth and—</p> + +<p>"It will be permissible, I presume," he began, as though the sight of +the turbaned head suggested the question, "to take my bearer along?"</p> + +<p>Did a smile flicker across her eyes, he wondered, or was it only his +fancy? The answer came decisively.</p> + +<p>"It is scarcely practicable."</p> + +<p>"Why?"—a shade too artlessly.</p> + +<p>"Servants have eyes to see and ears to hear."</p> + +<p>Something in her tone caused him to wonder if she had penetrated under +Kerth's masquerade. All the while he was subconsciously thinking of the +mate to the oval in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"What harm in taking him to Bombay?" he pursued, conscious that he was +losing ground.</p> + +<p>Again he could have taken oath that he saw the shadow of a smile in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"To Bombay?" she repeated thoughtfully. "No"—slowly—"no, I see no +objection. I concede that." But he did not like the manner in which she +said it.</p> + +<p>"Conditionally, however," she added. "He must leave to-night. When he +reaches Bombay let him reserve a room for you at the Taj Mahal—and +wait."</p> + +<p>Trent was discreet enough to accept her terms without question. His eyes +returned to Kerth. He saw him stir slightly, heard a sigh leave his +lips. The woman, too, saw and heard.</p> + +<p>"He is awakening," she observed. "I shall summon Chandra Lal to guide +you back to your hotel."</p> + +<p>Again she clapped her hands; again the servant appeared. She spoke to +him swiftly, not in English nor Hindustani, but in a tongue Trent did +not understand, and the man vanished with a salaam.</p> + +<p>Sarojini rose; Trent, too, got up.</p> + +<p>"<i>Salaam, Burra Dakktar</i>," she said, lapsing into Hindustani and +bringing the visit to an end. "I, the Swaying Cobra—who dance for those +I love, but have only venom for those I hate—bid thee farewell until +the gods bring us together again. And may that be soon!"</p> + +<p>She smiled and contemplated him, once more as a cat contemplating prey; +smiled with eyes that spoke mockery as she suffered him to salute her +fingers; and the last picture he had of her was as she crossed the +golden room and parted the golden curtains, vanishing like a cobra into +its lair.</p> + +<p>He turned then to Kerth and shook him. The latter was slow to awaken. +Lids lifted to reveal rheumy eyes, but as he recognized Trent sleep was +wiped away, like a cobweb. His gaze swept the room; he rose unsteadily.</p> + +<p>"I am ready, Sahib!" announced Chandra Lal, appearing in the doorway.</p> + +<p>Kerth opened his mouth, as if to speak; shut it; shot Trent a cryptic +glance.</p> + +<p>"Come." This from Trent, laconically.</p> + +<p>Thus they left the house of the Swaying Cobra, left it with its vain, +old-world atmosphere and its golden room; re-traversed the labyrinth of +streets; got into the landau; whirled toward the Cantonment.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>Not until they reached the hotel, until Chandra Lal flicked his whip and +rolled away into the gloom, did either of the Englishmen speak.</p> + +<p>"So you've known her before!" observed Kerth as they approached Trent's +room.</p> + +<p>Trent said, without surprise: "You heard?"</p> + +<p>"Everything.... I'll drop over and find out about the Bombay trains; +join you in a moment."</p> + +<p>As Kerth moved toward the central building, Trent unlocked the door. +After he switched on the light, his first act was to open his bag and +insert his hand into the pocket where he had left the piece of coral. +His fingers trembled, for he felt that he was questioning for the +identity of Manlove's slayer; trembled—and groped in an empty pocket.</p> + +<p>For several seconds he stood motionless, trying to adjust himself to the +situation. When he came into full sentience, he looked carefully through +the bag. He even searched his pockets. But the oval was not to be +found.... Some one had entered his room; stolen it. The realization +burned like acid into his brain. But if—</p> + +<p>His mental inquest was cut short as a knock announced Kerth.</p> + +<p>"Message for you," said the latter, extending a telegram.</p> + +<p>Trent hastily tore it open; read:</p> + +<p>"Party fitting description bought ticket for Mughal Sarai last night. +<i>Khansammah</i> at dâk bungalow says she asked questions about you and +Manlove. Following up clue. Nothing new. Urqhart."</p> + +<p>A sense of disappointment smote him. First Chatterjee; then the oval; +now this! A series of blind alleys.</p> + +<p>He applied a match to the telegram and watched it burn.</p> + +<p>"Train leaves in an hour and a half," Kerth volunteered, taking a seat +and staring inquisitively at the ashes as they fluttered to the floor.</p> + +<p>"How'd you suspect the wine?" Trent enquired, unbuttoning his tunic.</p> + +<p>"It's my business to suspect. I emptied the cup under the divan and, +afterwards, expected any minute to see it seeping out. As it is, I'm +not sure she didn't smell a mouse. Gad! The way she pulled back my +eyelids!"</p> + +<p>Trent hung his tunic on a chair. "Don't object if I get comfortable, do +you?" he asked. "Rather done up; awake all last night, you know."</p> + +<p>Kerth waved his slim hand. "Go ahead; I'll have to pack up shortly." +Then, as Trent undressed: "This Sarojini, she's a shrewd one, major, and +I don't envy you the task of matching blades with her. However, you +gained a point on her to-night. I was rather surprised that she gave in +so easily; not so sure, either, that there isn't a trick in it." He +laughed easily. "Oh, I'll wager she has a bag of tricks! And do you +think she was telling the truth when she said Chavigny has nothing to do +with this Order of the Falcon?"</p> + +<p>Trent, stripped but for one garment, propped himself against two +pillows, pencil and pad in hand.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," he returned, making a notation. "Pardon me for +taking a few notes; 'fraid I'll forget 'em. No, don't go.... About +Chavigny: why should she say he isn't, if he is?"</p> + +<p>"To confuse you." Kerth drew out a silver cigarette case. "Have a smoke? +And what d'you suppose she meant by saying the jewels could be spirited +out of India under the protection of the S. S.?" Kerth searched from +pocket to pocket for a match. "Have you a light, major?"</p> + +<p>Trent's hand moved involuntarily to his side; then he motioned toward +his tunic.</p> + +<p>"In the pocket."</p> + +<p>And he continued to write as Kerth reached into the pocket of his coat. +He read the notes he had made:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Who the deuce would want the pendant? Answer: if a name is +engraved inside, it would be very valuable to the owner. Yet +the fact that the coral was found in M.'s hand doesn't prove +conclusively that its owner is the murderer.</p></blockquote> + +<p>He looked up as Kerth extended a lighted match, took it and held it to +his cheroot.</p> + +<p>"Thanks"—briefly.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," interrogated Kerth, "you could find her lair without a +guide?"</p> + +<p>Trent smiled. "Hardly."</p> + +<p>"I'd take oath that her man, Chandra Lal, led us along the same street +twice! Oh, she's a wily one! And the way she had us taken into the room +while it was dark!"</p> + +<p>He puffed on his cheroot and Trent continued to jot down notes.</p> + +<p>"Furthermore," Kerth drawled, "why doesn't she want you to read those +instructions until to-morrow? Some catch in it."</p> + +<p>Conversation languished, and presently Kerth drew out his watch and +observed: "Nearly midnight. I'll have to be moving on."</p> + +<p>He rose and extended his hand.</p> + +<p>"I'll take a room at a native serai in Bombay—for atmosphere—and meet +you at the station. Until then, good luck!"</p> + +<p>In the doorway he paused. He looked particularly satanic at that moment, +and again Trent was not quite sure that he liked him.</p> + +<p>"Bombay, major!" were his parting words. And the door closed behind him.</p> + +<p>Trent stared at the blank panels for a moment; then, while he ran his +fingers through his hair, he glanced over his notes:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Something queer about this Chavigny. May not belong to Order, +but he's not to be overlooked. Last alias was Gilbert Leroux, +Kerth said. Kerth is a downy bird. Gilbert Leroux. Names mean +nothing. Sarojini took particular pains to empress it upon me +that Chavigny is <i>non compos mentis</i>. Therefore, he isn't. He's +something. What? And—Sarojini is a connection of the Nawab of +Jehelumpore—the jewels of the Nawab were among those stolen. +Find out if she was in Jehelumpore at time of theft.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Then he tore off the slip of paper, crumpled it and held a corner to his +cheroot. When the blaze lapped up to his fingers he let the paper fall +to the floor, then swung his feet over the edge of the bed and reached +for his tunic. From the inside pocket he removed the long envelope +Sarojini Nanjee had given him. It was sealed and its white surface +invited inspection. He made a movement to open it; hesitated. Why not? +As Kerth suggested, there might be a trick—and he knew only too well +that she was not above chicanery. But he did not open it; slipped it +under his pillow.</p> + +<p>A glance at his wrist-watch. He procured his revolver; snapped open the +breech; inspected the cartridges; clicked it shut; placed it beneath the +pillow with the envelope. Then he switched off the light and lay with +his cheroot's end glowing in the darkness.</p> + +<p>The discovery of the symbol of the Order revealed another side to the +mystery surrounding Manlove's death, and during the ride back to the +hotel he had constructed a new theory—a theory that he reviewed now. +The analogy between the Swaying Cobra and the woman of the +cobra-bracelet did not escape him. One suggested the other. Surely it +was plausible to surmise that Sarojini was the veiled woman, although he +was at a loss to find a convincing motive for her presence at Gaya. +However, Colonel Urqhart's telegram stated that the woman had made +inquiries about him—and what other woman was interested? Further proof +was offered by the fact that the mysterious woman left Gaya on the night +of the tragedy for Mughal Sarai, the junction for Benares. Finally, +there was the coral pendant-stone. Sarojini had called it the "symbol" +of the Order; therefore, only a member of that mysterious band was +likely to possess it, and had not she admitted she was a member? And the +pendant-stone was stolen—evidently for the reason that engraved inside +was the name of its owner. Sarojini was in Benares; it was logical to +assume, then, that some one in her employ had entered his room and +removed the condemning evidence.</p> + +<p>But, on the other hand, there were elements to upset this theory. Clues +indicated that Manlove was stabbed at the bungalow and carried to the +temple-ruins. Could a woman do that? Under the stress of circumstances, +yes. But why move the body—unless to hide it? Or had Manlove been +mortally wounded at the house and gone of his own volition to the ruins +before his death? Possible—but he could conjecture no cause for such +action.</p> + +<p>And there was Chatterjee. Since the receipt of the telegram telling of +his death, Trent was of the opinion that the native knew something about +the crime and for that reason was killed. Had Chatterjee gone to the +bungalow that night, grief-crazed and believing Trent responsible for +his child's death, to administer primitive justice? Had he witnessed the +crime and fled? Of course, there was the possibility that Chatterjee's +death might have been a coincidence—the termination of a quarrel +between him and another native. Yet Trent was not inclined to lay great +importance upon this, as he considered, meager explanation and his +thoughts returned to the woman.</p> + +<p>He could fix the guilt upon neither Sarojini Nanjee nor Chatterjee. Of +the two, he least suspected the native. He knew the woman to be +unscrupulous—whether to the point of murder he was uncertain. True, it +may not have been deliberate murder. She might have gone to the bungalow +for (again) a mysterious reason; might have been discovered by +Manlove.... But the glove did not exactly fit. Nor had he any concrete +reason to believe her the woman of the cobra-bracelet—or to believe the +woman of the cobra-bracelet involved. That the latter had worn a heavy +veil, surrounded her, in his eyes, with an aura of mystery. This he +realized, and gave her the benefit of the doubt.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the coral pendant linked Sarojini with the crime; +suggested that even though she did not actually commit the deed, she was +undoubtedly implicated.</p> + +<p>All of which did not clear the mystery; instead, bewildered him the more +and kept suspicion, like the needle of a compass, wavering between +Chatterjee, Sarojini Nanjee, the woman of the cobra-bracelet (if she +were not Sarojini) and a person unknown.</p> + +<p>His cheroot had burned low, and he got up and flung it away, and made +sure the door was secure before he returned to the bed; then he relaxed +and lay staring up into the darkness—darkness that was hotter because +of the thick mosquito-curtain—until he fell asleep.</p> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<p>Trent returned to consciousness gradually, as a diver rising from the +bottom of the sea. He was aware of another presence in the room before +he was completely awake, and he strained at the threads of sleep that +still entangled him.</p> + +<p>The first proof of a presence in the hot, dark void that enclosed him +was the sound of repressed breathing. He felt, now at the helm of his +faculties, a movement under his pillow—realized it was a <i>hand</i>, a hand +that withdrew stealthily, that belonged to a dark figure crouched +outside the mosquito-curtain. A turban and shoulders were silhouetted +upon the gray rectangle of a window. He sensed eyes upon him, cat-like +eyes that saw despite the darkness.</p> + +<p>With a stealth that proved that the intruder was no novice, but of the +school of thieves that graduate well-nigh perfect adepts in the art of +silent movement, the silhouette receded from the bed. Trent realized +that in all probability his revolver had been placed beyond reach; +attack by surprise was impossible because of the mosquito-curtain. So he +lay there, undecided, scarcely breathing; and, after a moment, he let +his hand slide slowly, cautiously, toward his pillow.</p> + +<p>The silhouette halted; was motionless.</p> + +<p>Trent's hand touched the seam of the pillow and pressed underneath. It +encountered steel.</p> + +<p>The silhouetted turban was moving again—toward the door.</p> + +<p>Trent gripped the revolver. He turned on his side noisily and sighed, as +though in sleep. At the sounds, the dark figure stepped swiftly to one +side of the window, thus vacating the gray rectangle.</p> + +<p>Trent waited no longer. He raised the mosquito-curtain and jumped. And +the thing he apprehended happened. His head and shoulders became +enmeshed in the netting. Cursing his awkwardness, he rent the fabric +with a downward sweep of his hand. As he leaped through the opening, he +saw the door flung wide, saw the man plunge out.</p> + +<p>He pressed the trigger—and it snapped harmlessly.</p> + +<p>"Damn!" he spat out, knowing the weapon had been tampered with.</p> + +<p>Again he pressed the trigger; again that absurd click.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the door slammed. The crash awakened him to the fact that the +thief was escaping, and he dashed across the room and threw open the +door. As he emerged, a figure disappeared behind the far corner.</p> + +<p>He rushed in pursuit, his bare feet padding upon the stone flags. At the +end of the portico he halted sharply, almost colliding with something in +white—a something that appeared, as if by magic, from behind a suddenly +opened door; that came to a standstill as abruptly as he, and gasped.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>Words died in Trent's throat. The girl, whom he recognized as she of the +bronze hair, wore a long white garment, and her hair fell in heavy +braids over her shoulders; her hands were at her throat.</p> + +<p>For a moment they stood and stared, both speechless. Then:</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she repeated, with a hysterical little laugh. "You frightened me! +I woke up and—" She swallowed with difficulty. Her eyes dropped to her +nightdress, she threw a significant look toward him and darted into her +room.</p> + +<p>Not until he heard the key turn in the lock did he remember the very +substantial reason for his presence on the portico—and then that reason +was nowhere in sight, but was, he surmised, at a safe distance, +laughing at the awkwardness of all sahibs in general and one sahib in +particular.</p> + +<p>His face burning, and not altogether from the heat, he returned to his +room. The glowing hands of his wrist-watch pointed to nearly two +o'clock.</p> + +<p>When he switched on the light it shone on six cartridges lying upon the +table—cartridges that deft fingers had removed from his revolver and +left to mock him. It was no mystery how the thief had managed to get in, +for he knew that entrance could be effected with the aid of a master +key, but it did puzzle him that neither his money nor the contents of +his bag were touched. He suspected, however, now that he had time to +review the affair, that the intruder had not come bent on loot, but +after one particular thing—and when he assured himself that that thing +was safe under his pillow, he guessed that his awakening had prevented +the man from making away with it.</p> + +<p>As he held up the envelope, he was once more seized by an impulse to +open it. But, as before, he placed the tempting object under the pillow. +Then he returned the cartridges to the breech, and, after propping a +chair against the door, turned off the light and stretched himself upon +the bed.</p> + +<p>Again a wave of mystery had lapped up and touched him, and receded +without leaving a hint of the power that energized it. He could not +suspect Sarojini Nanjee, for he saw no reason why she should have the +envelope stolen. Other hands were at work.</p> + +<p>But thoughts and questions did not harry him long. He felt certain that +he need not fear another intrusion that night, and when drowsiness +returned he yielded to it.</p> + + +<h3>6</h3> + +<p>The next morning at <i>burra hazri</i>, or "big breakfast," he found himself +searching the dining-hall for the bronze-haired girl; but she was not +there, nor did she appear during the meal.</p> + +<p>When he returned to his room he discovered a letter under the door, and +tore it open with quickened interest as he recognized the handwriting +and inhaled the delicate fragrance of sandalwood.</p> + +<blockquote><p>GREETINGS!</p> + +<p>You will no doubt be surprised when I inform you that instead +of going to Bombay, you will go to Calcutta. The address of the +place to which you are to report is set forth in the packet I +gave you, and which you, being a man of honor, have not read +ere you receive this. I told you Bombay last night because one +can never be sure there are no ears listening, even in one's +own house.</p> + +<p>Your bearer, Rawul Din (who, I assure you, is worthy of the +confidence you impose in him) will by this time be on his way +to Bombay, which inconvenience to you I regret exceedingly. +However, you shall have a servant. One Tambusami, an excellent +bearer, will meet you in Calcutta. Regarding your own man, +Rawul Din: he is, I am sure, a most obedient servant and will +carry out your instructions by waiting in Bombay.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, I trust you will have a most pleasant journey and +will grow in both wisdom and prosperity.</p> + +<p>Your humble servant,</p> + +<p>SAROJINI NANJEE</p></blockquote> + +<p>When Trent finished reading the letter he smiled. He felt no anger, nor +even chagrin; he was amused; he could picture with what satisfaction she +penned that missive. She was as full of tricks as a street-juggler, this +Swaying Cobra. Whether she discovered Kerth's true identity or only +suspected he might act as a listening-post for the Intelligence +Department, he did not know; he knew only that Sarojini Nanjee had +outwitted the Government in the first move of the game.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the morning he spent in making arrangements for his +departure. While he was having his luggage removed from his room he saw +the bronze-haired girl—a glimpse of white and gold as she crossed the +portico. She did not even glance at him.</p> + +<p>Two-thirty, with a sun glaring down implacably upon the dusty +Cantonment, found him pacing the platform of the railway station. +Suddenly he caught a glimmer of bronze, a familiar face among many +unfamiliar ones. It may have been the advent of the train, roaring up in +a cloud of heat, that made her turn quickly—and it may not. She hurried +into a carriage, followed by a porter in a flowered chintz coat.</p> + +<p>As the train puffed out, Trent drew from his pocket the envelope +Sarojini Nanjee had given him and tore off the end; read the closely +written pages; reread them; made a few notes; memorized certain +passages, and consigned the packet to ashes. One sentence stood out in +his brain, in raised lettering:</p> + +<blockquote><p>... Thursday night to the house of his Excellency the Mandarin +Li Kwai Kung, in the Street of the River of the Moon, which is +in the Chinese colony at Calcutta.</p></blockquote> + +<p>It was Wednesday now.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>INTERLUDE</h3> + + +<p>Calcutta was luxuriating in the amber and blue of a clear day when Trent +detrained in the Howrah Station the following morning; detrained as Mr. +Robert Tavernake of London, in light gray tweeds, instead of Major +Arnold Trent of Gaya, whose military trappings, with his identity, were +secreted in a trunk.</p> + +<p>As he neared the front arches of the building, with a porter in tow, he +was hailed by a drill-clad officer.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Trent!" exclaimed the uniformed one, whom he recognized as a +former messmate. "<i>Quo vadis</i>, you old mummy?"</p> + +<p>Trent, not blind to the fact that he was being eyed by a native in +horn-rimmed spectacles and a pink turban, returned the greeting with a +polite smile.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," he said; "You must be mistaken"—and walked on.</p> + +<p>"Crazy?" wondered the surprised officer, "or am I?"</p> + +<p>He stared at Trent's gray back and sunburnt neck—and he was not the +only one, for at least two others did.</p> + +<p>As the porter put Trent's luggage into an automobile, the expected +happened: the spectacled, pink-turbaned native approached, beamed upon +him and spoke in suave tones, in English.</p> + +<p>"You are Tavernake Sahib?"</p> + +<p>Trent nodded. "Tambusami?"</p> + +<p>The pink turban inclined forward as he salaamed. "I have a communication +for the Presence!" he announced, extending an envelope that distilled an +unmistakable perfume.</p> + +<p>Trent did not open it, but thrust it into his pocket and instructed:</p> + +<p>"Get in."</p> + +<p>The motor car rolled across the Hoogly and deposited Trent and his +involuntarily acquired servant at a hotel off the Maidan. There he +dismissed his bearer.</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't want you this morning," he told the pink-turbaned Tambusami, +resolving to experiment with him.</p> + +<p>And the native departed with a most profound salaam.</p> + +<p>A half hour later, over breakfast, Trent read the note from Sarojini +Nanjee. It wished him welcome to Calcutta and urged him to listen well +when he visited his Excellency the Mandarin Li Kwai Kung—"who lives in +that very poetic Street of the River of the Moon," as she put it. "I +regret that it will be impossible for me to see you in Calcutta," she +concluded. "Meanwhile, I trust you will find Tambusami an excellent +bearer."</p> + +<p>"Hmm," he thought, "if she won't be able to see me in Calcutta, where +the deuce will she see me?"</p> + +<p>Then he turned his attention to the "Daily Indian News," perused the +closely-set columns while he finished his meal, and, after breakfast, +set out for a stroll. He moved north along Chowringhee, past +green-grown gardens, and into a quarter where the streets swam in +intense white sunlight and men and women of every caste and color +pressed close to the flanks of harnessed beasts. It did not disturb him +in the least when a backward glance showed him a pink turban following +at a discreet distance; he smiled. When he had filled his pipe, he +turned toward the riverfront. He felt rather in the mood for a tramp, so +he increased his pace—strode on. He reached the Hoogly Bridge; followed +Harrison Road. After an hour of steady walking he of the pink turban +showed signs of weakening. Trent, perspiring freely yet not +uncomfortable, suddenly plunged into a side street, made a series of +turns and came out, eventually, near the Secretariat—without the pink +turban. There he encountered the officer he had met in the Howrah +Station earlier that morning.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Ayrton," was Trent's genial greeting. "Sorry I couldn't speak to +you this morning—but too many ears were listening."</p> + +<p>"So!" commented the officer, wisely. "You're doing <i>that</i> now!" He shook +his head with assumed gravity. "Government's gone mad—madder 'n a March +hare!" A laugh. "I suppose you're shadowing Ghandi!"</p> + +<p>Trent grinned and made an inconsequential remark.</p> + +<p>"Here permanently?" he queried.</p> + +<p>"End of my life, I daresay," was the gloomy reply.</p> + +<p>"You can do me a favor, then"—thus Trent. "I've a uniform I want to rid +myself of temporarily; don't object if I send it around for you to +keep?... Thanks."</p> + +<p>They chatted for a few minutes; then the officer entered one of the +buildings facing the square, and Trent returned to his hotel.</p> + +<p>He arrived hot and perspiring, and sat down upon the veranda to wait. +And before long the pink turban appeared in the street below. Their +glances met and Trent motioned to him.</p> + +<p>"Why did you follow me?" he demanded, as Tambusami, sweat flowing from +every pore of his brown face, salaamed.</p> + +<p>"My orders, O Presence!"</p> + +<p>"Whose orders?"</p> + +<p>"The Presence knows!"</p> + +<p>Trent thought a moment. Then: "I object to it."</p> + +<p>Tambusami smiled broadly. "But, O Presence, it is for your good that I +follow—to protect you!"</p> + +<p>And knowing it was useless to tell him he lied, the Englishman dismissed +him curtly.</p> + +<p>Trent spent an idle afternoon. He did not leave the hotel, for he feared +that he would encounter other acquaintances, as he had met Ayrton, and +with Tambusami tracking him it might make more insecure his position. To +be sure, Sarojini Nanjee knew he was Arnold Trent—but did Tambusami?</p> + +<p>As he lay sprawled across his bed, enjoying the inactivity and listening +abstractedly to the sounds from the street, a recollection of the +bronze-haired girl insinuated itself into his thoughts. Subconsciously, +he wondered why the remembrance of her came to him. He hadn't seen her +since she entered the carriage at Benares Cantonment; didn't know +whether she left the train along the route or in Calcutta. Queer that +this girl should have crossed the border of mere observation. Yet, had +he analyzed it, he would have known the reason. The world, that is, the +great firmament of existence around his immediate sphere, was to him a +scroll of faces. Now and then some countenance was lifted from the +multitude—a swift glimpse of eyes in the dusk, eyes he would never see +again, and for many nights afterward, when he sat alone with his pipe +and the stars, he would spin webs of glamour. A quixotic person, this +Trent.... The girl, then, was one of the lifted faces. Skin of old ivory +hue, he mused, and hair—now, just what color was it? His imagination +supplied a simile. Golden, with little flickerings of auburn—like +firelight on bronze. The figure rather pleased him. Firelight on bronze. +A contrast to Sarojini Nanjee. One the jungle orchid, blossom of purple +shadows; the other ... well, the type one liked to picture at a piano in +a dusk-deepened room, with hands gleaming pale as moonlight....</p> + +<p>Sentimentalism, he concluded. And dropped off to sleep.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>Dusk had fallen when he awakened. He dressed quickly and went below. +Tambusami was nowhere in sight; however, he suspected his shadow was not +far away. Doubtless the native knew of his appointment in the Chinese +quarter, but he determined if possible not to have him at his heels. To +this end he took an automobile part of the way, by a roundabout route; +then, certain he had eluded his tracker, set out on foot to finish the +journey.</p> + +<p>An intense vitality lived in every line of his body as he swung along +crowded streets, a tall, trim figure in white linens, smoking a cheroot +with the air of a globe-trotter trickling through the evening swarm for +no other purpose than to absorb atmosphere, instead of a man approaching +an uncertain venture.</p> + +<p>Native Calcutta was airing itself after a hot day, and a film of color +and life unreeled in the early night. He passed two sailors from a +British man-o'-war, younger by ten years than himself, clean-clipped +chaps. The sight of them brought back the old dream—freedom and the +quest for fabulous isles. He rather envied that pair, irresponsibly +young. Always there, this dream, lurking in the subconscious, eager for +some incident to draw it into the conscious.</p> + +<p>From the thronged bazaars he turned into a quarter that was no less +crowded, but with people of a different sort. It was as though he had +descended into another world, a planet of dirt and filth and sin—sin in +its nakedness, as only Asiatic cities know how to strip it of its +glamour. A foul artery fed with the virus of the East—beings whose +faces were mottles of yellow and brown and chocolate black upon the +mephitic gloom. A woman in satin trousers ran out of a balconied house +and clutched his arm, whispering an entreaty; she cursed him in bastard +English when he thrust her away. Something of psychic consciousness came +to him from the street, as though fanned into momentary being were the +sparks of old evil.... Babylon and Rome, and the perished cities of the +Nile....</p> + +<p>Once clear of this humanity-clogged artery with its aura of ancient sin, +he found himself in the quieter, though scarcely cleaner, Chinese +quarter. Jews, Parsees and Chinamen; black and gilt signs; open doors +that, like dragon-mouths, expelled the mingled odors of <i>samshu</i> and +soy, of cassia and joss-sticks and opium; an atmosphere that transported +Trent to the picturesquely wicked towns of the Straits Settlements.</p> + +<p>The Street of the River of the Moon belied its name; it was no more than +an alley and it slunk in the shadows of unpretentious houses. Its lights +were dim, many-colored globes afloat on warm darkness; it was as +mysterious as the numerous slant-eyed yellow men who came and went so +soundlessly in its shifting dusks. After several inquiries Trent located +the residence of his Excellency the Mandarin Li Kwai Kung—a dark, +colonnaded pile. He jerked the leather strap that hung from a panel of +the door; heard a muffled tinkle, the padding of feet. The door opened +wide enough to permit a yellow face to peer out.</p> + +<p>"Tell his Excellency that Mr. Tavernake is here," Trent instructed.</p> + +<p>The door closed quickly; again the padding of feet. After a moment the +yellow face reappeared. This time the door opened sufficiently for +Trent to see a house-boy in a slop-shop suit and a black skull-cap.</p> + +<p>"His Excellency sends greetings and bids you enter his dwelling," +announced the house-boy.</p> + +<p>The door closed behind Trent. He was in a hall where a <i>dong</i>, swinging +from brass chains, kindled an orange flame against the semi-darkness, +where a stale-sweet scent clung to the air and gloom varnished +everything.</p> + +<p>The house-boy took his shoes and gave him straw sandals, afterward +leading him through a series of doors to a corridor where the rich, +stupefying odor of opium saturated the atmosphere. A sliding door was +pushed back—a black door inlaid with characters in glistening +nacre—and Trent stepped into a dimly illuminated area.</p> + +<p>A lamp with a yellow shade hung by invisible means from an invisible +ceiling, casting a pyramid of ochre light upon a figure that squatted on +silken cushions beneath it—a figure arrayed in a loose yellow garment +and the embroidered boots of a mandarin's undress. He was grossly obese, +with drooping gray mustaches and oblique, beady eyes—a grotesque effigy +made more unreal by the incense that floated up from a brazier at his +side and wreathed bluish spirals on the dead air around him. Trent +received an impression of sheeny hangings beyond the radius of the lamp; +vases and gold-embroidered screens—a web of shadows, with, in its +center, this gorged yellow spider.</p> + +<p>His Excellency rose with visible effort, smiled blandly and shook his +own hands within his brocaded sleeves.</p> + +<p>"You will do me the honor to be seated?" he enquired, gesturing toward a +pile of cushions opposite him. "My house is flattered that one of such +fame should lighten it with his presence."</p> + +<p>Trent waited for his host to be seated, knowing this to be a custom, +then dropped cross-legged on the cushions. Followed the usual exchange +of lilied words, of felicitations and compliments. Afterward, Li Kwai +Kung struck a gong and a little rice-powdered, red-lipped girl appeared +from behind the dusky screens, like a figure out of one of Pan Chih Yu's +poems, and set a brass basin filled with scented water before Trent. +When he had washed his hands the basin was removed. More lilied words, +more felicitations and compliments. Then, a few minutes later, the first +course of the meal was served.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ch'ing chih fan</i>," said the mandarin graciously—by which he invited +Trent to eat.</p> + +<p>Bamboo shoots, rice-cakes and honey; roast duck flavored with soy, seeds +of lotus in syrup; prawns, sweetmeats, nuts and tea made fragrant with +petals of jasmine. A very celestial meal. They talked as they ate, and +if his Excellency clung to the custom of balancing food on his chop +sticks and thrusting it unexpectedly into his guest's mouth, as an act +of courtesy, he refrained from doing so on this occasion. Trent grew +anxious to have the formalities over with. He knew he was undergoing a +test; upon the success of this interview, he imagined, depended his +future safety.</p> + +<p>When the meal was finished, Li Kwai Kung asked:</p> + +<p>"Will you join me with a pipe?... No?"</p> + +<p>A ring of the gong brought the serving-maid with cigars. His Excellency +declined to smoke tobacco; instead he spoke to the girl in his own +tongue and she vanished, to reappear presently with the requisites of an +opium smoker—a lighted lamp on a tray, a blue jar containing +poppy-treacle, and a metal pipe. The jar, Trent observed, was a piece of +blue porcelain of the Sung period.</p> + +<p>Then, after the manner of the East, which is to say, obliquely, his +Excellency approached the subject of Trent's visit.</p> + +<p>"There are certain necessary precautions," he began, while the girl +twisted a black gummy substance about a needle and held it over the +lamp, "before we enter into any discussion."</p> + +<p>Trent opened his shirt and revealed a coral pendant chased with silver, +lying against his skin. Li Kwai Kung nodded.</p> + +<p>"And if I say, 'It is a wise man who holds his tongue in the presence of +knaves,'" pursued the mandarin, "what would be your comment?"</p> + +<p>"I would reply with the ancient wisdom of Lao Tzü—'By many words wit is +exhausted; it is better to preserve a mien.'"</p> + +<p>Li Kwai Kung nodded again. "<i>Hao</i>," he grunted—and his guest did not +know that was a signal for the house-boy, armed with a revolver, to +retire from behind one of the many screens.</p> + +<p>"It is needless, I am sure," the Oriental resumed, "for me to caution +you, who are about to start on a journey to the dwelling-place of +<i>He-whose-wisdom-is-as-a-lamp-filled-with-much-oil</i>, that the discreet +man questions himself, a fool others. You will tread the path of +discretion, I know, for I perceive that the light of intelligence burns +with much brightness in your brain."</p> + +<p>A pause. Trent studied the blue porcelain jar. Li Kwai Kung took the +metal pipe from the girl and inhaled; bluish vapor welled from his +nostrils, half-obscuring his countenance.</p> + +<p>"The arm of the Order is long and powerful, like Mother Yangtze, and its +eyes are as many as the stars." Their glances met; no expression was +mirrored in either face. "Yours is a great work to do," continued his +Excellency, sinking deeper among the cushions and expelling smoke. "The +Order will reward the faithful; they shall flourish as the +willow-branch. The first step of your journey to the City of the Falcon +will be taken shortly—and what sage was it that said, 'A journey of a +thousand miles begins with one step'?"</p> + +<p>The obese effigy smiled, pleased with his knowledge, and Trent felt that +each word had its own hidden significance. Curiosity pricked him, like a +needle flashing back and forth across the loom of thought. But he smoked +his cigar and stared at the blue jar as if he had nothing weightier than +the Sung porcelain upon his mind.</p> + +<p>"As a man climbs a mountain by terraces, so will you travel to the city +where dwells the Falcon, he who guides the workings of the Order," Li +Kwai Kung went on. "There, having attained the summit, you will—er—see +light. The next terrace of your journey is Burma."</p> + +<p>He withdrew an object from under the cushions and Trent looked upon a +packet wrapped in white silk. The mandarin, placing his pipe in a bowl +at his side, rested a contemplative gaze upon the silken wrapping.</p> + +<p>"Passage for Rangoon has been booked for you on the <i>Manchester</i>, which +leaves day after to-morrow. Here"—indicating the packet—"are all +necessary papers. When you reach Rangoon you will take a train, as soon +as convenient, for Myitkyina, where you will go to the shop of Da-yak, +the Tibetan, and identify yourself by showing the symbol of the Order. +He will furnish you with a <i>hu-chao</i>, or, as you would say, a passport, +to a—er—higher terrace."</p> + +<p>He handed the packet to the Englishman, who placed it in his pocket. +Trent's thoughts were revolving about what he had just heard—revolving +and reaching no end. Myitkyina. Upper Burma. Were the jewels in Burma? +But why Burma? How were they taken there? "Under the protection of your +Secret Service," Sarojini Nanjee had said. Were they hidden somewhere in +the hills? Myitkyina. He tried to visualize a map; failed.... This City +of the Falcon: in Burma? And the Falcon? Who was he? White or +Oriental?... Groping—groping in the dark—a purposeless circle. At +least, this Order was no small one.</p> + +<p>"I believe there are no further instructions to deliver," he heard Li +Kwai Kung say. "Regarding the trivial matter of your—er—incidentals, I +presume you have been told to keep an account and submit it at the +proper time?... No?... Then do so, as it is the wish of the Order that +you suffer no personal expenses.... Stay,"—as Trent made a move to +leave—"it would be ungracious for me to allow so honorable a guest to +depart without further hospitality!"</p> + +<p>The little Chinese maid brought liquor—a sort of <i>arak</i> that, despite +his Excellency's comment that it was a draught of the gods, tasted like +sweetened vinegar to Trent. As the Englishman sipped the wine he +continued to mull over what Li Kwai Kung had told him. The +formidableness of the Order amazed him, troubled him not a little. This +Falcon had a nest in Calcutta and Myitkyina. Where else? What of his +brood? Why not, he mused, report what he knew to the Intelligence +Department; let them swoop down upon these two nests; thus avoid any +treachery that Sarojini might contemplate? An idea that he instantly +dismissed, for to act prematurely was to invite defeat. He was under +orders—and he had given his word of honor. Seek the root of the vine, +the seed from which the Order flowered; then exterminate it.</p> + +<p>Trent saw by his wrist-watch that it was nearly ten o'clock when he +finally rose to take his leave. Li Kwai Kung lifted his corpulent person +with an effort and repeated the ceremony of vigorously shaking his own +hands.</p> + +<p>"A sage once said, 'A man's actions are the mirrors of his heart,'" was +his parting remark. "And, verily, I have looked into your heart!" +(Which, Trent reflected later, was a rather cryptic compliment.) "May +you flourish in wisdom and wealth, as the blossoms of the almond tree +flourish after the snows have melted and run down from the Yunnan-fu!"</p> + +<p>Trent inclined his head gravely. "And may the Green Gods grant you the +Twelve Desires!" he returned.</p> + +<p>The house-boy appeared; his Excellency sank among his cushions, like a +spider retiring to its gossamer web; and Trent was led back through the +series of doors to the outer portal, where he exchanged the straw +sandals for his shoes, and left the colonnaded residence—left a world +of mystery for a world of noise and heat, of odorous reality and pale +lanterns that reflected upon yellow faces and sloe-dark eyes.</p> + +<p>He was a short distance beyond the mouth of the alleyway when a gharry +rolled by. He started to call after it—an impulse born dead. It was not +late; he would walk. Motion accelerated his thoughts. And he wanted to +think.</p> + +<p>As he strode along the street, fragments of the obese mandarin's +conversation slid into his brain and receded, like waves gently +insinuating themselves upon a beach. Casually (he had turned into a +narrow highway of balconies, of swinging signs and Chinese scrolls) he +noticed a white woman on the opposite side of the street—only noticed +her, for he knew the type that haunted this quarter. He would have +expelled her instantly from his mind had not she moved from the shadow +into a band of light that extended beyond a doorway; had not he seen +her pause and draw away, as from a plague, as a Chinaman slunk past. The +glow fell upon a face of old ivory hue, upon hair as bronze as the +lettering upon the black scroll above her wide-brimmed hat.</p> + +<p>He drew a quick breath.</p> + +<p>The girl evidently recognized him as he recognized her, for she darted +out of the band of light and to his side. Dark eyes looked into his from +under the brim of her hat. She smiled, half with fright, half ashamed.</p> + +<p>"I—I've been very foolish," she said, much after the manner of a truant +child. "Please take me out of this dreadful place!"</p> + +<p>Trent did not speak immediately; grasped her arm; looked about; hailed a +dilapidated carriage that was rattling by. As it came to a halt he said +"Get in!" much after the manner of a stern parent.</p> + +<p>She smiled again, that same half-frightened, half-ashamed smile, and +obeyed.</p> + +<p>Thus she of the bronze hair stepped from Trent's world-scroll into a +sphere of more intimate association.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>The girl was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"Really, I don't know what to say. I hope you don't think—"</p> + +<p>"I think as you do," he interposed, "that you've been very foolish."</p> + +<p>She laughed tremulously. A voice as soft as a gentle monsoon rain—a +voice that slurred over its words. Wisps of hair were burnished by +passing lights; her throat shone palely. Only the eyes were in the +shadow—dark eyes, deep with mystery and a promise of revelations.... +Old ivory and bronze. A picture of soft tones and colors.</p> + +<p>"My brother would—well, I hardly know what he <i>would</i> do if he knew +about this!"</p> + +<p>"Your brother's in the city?"—conscious of a lingering strain.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I'm alone, or I wouldn't have done what I did +to-night—or what I'm doing now. It was brazen of me to come up to you +as I did, but I was frightened—terribly!" Then, with that nervous +little laugh, she added, "But it wasn't as though I were approaching a +totally strange person, for—for I believe you were at the hotel in +Benares."</p> + +<p>Trent remembered his uniform and that now he was Tavernake—remembered +divers things. He decided quickly.</p> + +<p>"You must be mistaken about having seen me at Benares; but I've a +brother there—in the Army. Perhaps you saw him. He passed through the +city to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Perhaps so!"—this rather frigidly. "What a striking likeness!" He +felt her eyes upon him—those dark eyes. A moment passed before she +said: "I must explain why I'm here, at this hour. Of course it will seem +foolish to you, but I'm a tourist, and I wanted to see Calcutta's +Chinese colony at night—oh, it had to be night, because I knew +everything would be tawdry and ugly in daylight!"</p> + +<p>It didn't seem at all foolish to him, only indiscreet.</p> + +<p>"I hired a registered guide. He was to show me the temple of—of +Kwan-te, I believe. Anyhow, he assured me it would be perfectly +safe—and, knowing that it wasn't, but rather enjoying the idea, I went. +But I didn't see the temple. There was a street fight between some +Chinese and Brahmins—Chinese and Brahmins <i>do</i> fight, don't they? In +the confusion my guide disappeared. Perhaps he joined in or ran—I +suspect the latter. I was so frightened when I found myself alone—and +I—well, I walked a short distance—and then—then I saw you."</p> + +<p>He realized he ought to say something to fill in the gap that followed, +but he was not a man given to much conversation and for the time nothing +suggested itself. Finally:</p> + +<p>"I hope you've learned a lesson"—grimly.</p> + +<p>She laughed, and the nervous note had gone from her voice. Again he +thought of cool monsoon showers.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'm incorrigible! Now that I'm safe, I think I really +enjoyed it. Being a man, you'll disapprove."</p> + +<p>"Thoroughly," he responded.</p> + +<p>Conversation lagged for a brief spell. The girl took it up.</p> + +<p>"You see, Mr.—"</p> + +<p>She stopped and he supplied:</p> + +<p>"Tavernake—Robert Tavernake."</p> + +<p>"I forgot we hadn't been introduced. My name is Dana Charteris. I was +going to say that this is like a fairy tale to me—some 'Arabian +Nights' story. Since I was a child I've wanted to travel—to see +Aladdin's palace and Sinbad's islands—and now I'm doing it. I lived in +a town called Bayou Latouche, in Louisiana, U. S. A., and, you know, +Bayou Latouche scarcely prepares one for this!"—with a gesture. "It +reminds me of carnival in New Orleans."</p> + +<p>"You've not been disillusioned?"</p> + +<p>"In India? No."</p> + +<p>"Of course you have visited Agra."</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't seen the Taj. It's a frightful confession to make, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>He reflected upon the question and decided:</p> + +<p>"It's rather jolly to find some one who's traveled in India without +seeing the Taj. Sort of different. But I forgot to ask where you wanted +to go. For some reason I took it for granted that you're staying at the +Grand."</p> + +<p>"That's almost clairvoyant; I am stopping there."</p> + +<p>When he had instructed the <i>gharry-wallah</i>, she asked:</p> + +<p>"You don't live in Calcutta?"</p> + +<p>Making conversation, he thought.</p> + +<p>"My home is the world." Then, specifically, "I live in London. I +represent a diamond firm."</p> + +<p>Before she spoke he knew quite well what she was going to say.</p> + +<p>"Jewels always fascinate me. Isn't it frightful about the gems that were +stolen?"</p> + +<p>"Rather," was the close-mouthed reply.</p> + +<p>"Just fancy losing all those jewels!" she went on. "My brother said +they are worth millions or <i>lakhs</i> and <i>lakhs</i> of rupees, to be proper. +I suppose it's the work of this Chavigny who's reported to be at large. +You've heard of him, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>He answered in the affirmative and, inwardly, expressed relief that they +were nearing the end of the ride.</p> + +<p>"I can't ever thank you enough," she told him as they left the gharry +and entered the hotel.</p> + +<p>In the better light he saw her eyes for the first time and explored a +new dimension of strength and dignity. He felt as though he looked into +the rich glow of autumn forests, spaces of warmth and color and +spirit—an initiation into the sense of discovery and lofty exhilaration +that Balboa must have known when he gazed upon the shining expanse of an +unknown sea. It was a glimpse into some high arcanum—to him new, but to +the world as ancient as the tale of Cana of Galilee.</p> + +<p>"I hope I'll see you before I leave," she said in a way that would have +made it impossible for him to misunderstand, had he been inclined to do +so. "Good night."</p> + +<p>He watched her go.... And when he reached his room and examined the +silk-wrapped papers Li Kwai Kung had given him, she persisted in +cleaving through his thoughts, in appearing from the pages before him +and distracting him; and after a few minutes he re-wrapped the packet +and placed it in his trunk.</p> + +<p>Long after he plunged the room into darkness he lay thinking—thinking +of Kerth in Bombay, of his Excellency Li Kwai Kung sitting in his +shadowy room, like a yellow-bellied spider, and of the Order of the +Falcon. The <i>Manchester</i> was to sail Saturday; it was Thursday now. Two +days, an interlude; then the Bay, Rangoon and—</p> + +<p>But would he see <i>her</i> before he left?</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>Morning and a hint of coolness caressing the air. Sampans and other +craft rocked and crooned in the murky Hoogly. Gauzy streamers of smoke +floated over the jute-mills of Howrah. Sunshine drenched the modern +buildings of Dalhousie Square and Government Row; submerged the myriad +bazaars and shops in yellow liquor; crept into the room where Trent was +sleeping and aroused him with an impelling finger.</p> + +<p>He dressed and went to breakfast. When he left the dining-hall his +attention was arrested by a black straw hat with a sheaf of cornflowers +and ripe yellow wheat about the crown. A tendril of hair glowed against +the somber brim. She was talking with a native, an itinerant merchant; a +string of beads hung from her white fingers. Trent approached from +behind and spoke.</p> + +<p>"He's asking entirely too much for those stones, Miss Charteris."</p> + +<p>She turned, smiling. He felt the same warmth in her brown eyes as on the +previous night.</p> + +<p>"You always appear at the psychological moment—or rather," she +interpolated, "this time at the financial moment."</p> + +<p>She returned the beads to the merchant, who took no pains to hide his +displeasure at Trent's interposition.</p> + +<p>"I'm really glad you appeared—for a purely selfish reason. I want to +buy some things to send home, and I know if I go alone I'll be cheated +outrageously. I wonder if you'd care to go with me? However, I suppose +that, man-like, you detest shopping with a woman."</p> + +<p>"I don't object at all," he said.</p> + +<p>"And you really haven't any business engagements?"</p> + +<p>"I'm free until to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're leaving Calcutta then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"So am I"—with a smile.</p> + +<p>She raised a silk parasol of pongee-color as they left the hotel, and +the sun reflected a rich glow through the fine texture.</p> + +<p>"You see," she explained, "I taught music at Bayou Latouche and I +promised my pupils I'd send them each a remembrance from India."</p> + +<p>He might have known she was a musician. There was a depth of conception +in her that was lyrical, a somber yet thrillingly-alive tone, of which +her eyes were the pinnacle-expression. <i>Andante appassionato.</i> Queerly, +that term came to him. His mental portrait of the day before blended in +with actuality: White hands brushing the keys in a dusk-varnished room; +nothing heavy, some old song, redolent of recollections....</p> + +<p>"Is this your first trip to India?" he heard her asking. The clamor of +Chowringhee was in his ears, but her voice rang clearly through the +sounds, an unbroken thread in the tangle of city streets.</p> + +<p>"No. Mother India called me when I was a boy. I used to hunt with my +father." That was true; for some reason he detested lying to her.</p> + +<p>"Hunting! Tiger?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Is it true," she queried, "that there are mystics who walk in the +jungles with animals—who belong to a sort of brotherhood of the wild +and understand tiger and python and cobra?"</p> + +<p>"The jungle has her own secrets," was his reply; "things that white men +will never know."</p> + +<p>"I heard a man," she resumed, "a converted Brahmin priest, lecture in +New Orleans. He told of his boyhood; of the magic lore of the +'Mahabarata' and the 'Ramayana'; and of a time when an old priest—he +called him a <i>Saddhu</i>—took him into the jungle at night, and he heard +the many animal-sounds—the voices of the jungle. He said that once +green eyes peered at them, so close that he could hear the quick +breathing of the beast, and the old priest only looked into the +eyes—oh, he described that look as so potent and unafraid!—and soon +the eyes disappeared. I've always remembered that. Since then I've +wanted to <i>feel</i> the jungle—and the power of will that can soothe a +great animal. Yet I suppose Mother India, as you call her, is suspicious +of us foreigners who try to pry into her secrets. And yet"—the brown +eyes were filled with reflections—"perhaps she has a right to be +resentful, for men have maligned and misrepresented her so, credited her +with false mysticism, with <i>Mahatmas</i> and cults of which she isn't +guilty." Then she laughed—a little ripple that broke the smooth spell. +"I—an outsider—talk as if I were intimate with India! Although +sometimes I do feel that I must have known India before; a haunting +familiarity. That's why I came—to see if my visions were aright." Again +the rippling laugh. "But I'm sure you'll think me an Annie Besant, +incognito, if I talk on like this!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all"—smiling. "I'm interested."</p> + +<p>"But you should tell me of India; for you've hunted in her forests and +wild places. Oh, it must be wonderful to know the world!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd scarcely say I know the world," he corrected; "only a few +Indian and Persian cities—and some of the more southern watering-places +of Asia. I was stationed for a while at Singapore."</p> + +<p>"Stationed? You mean in the interest of your firm—or were you in the +Army then, like your brother?"</p> + +<p>"In the Army," he answered, again experiencing that insurrection against +falsehood.</p> + +<p>"I see," she commented. A wistful sigh. "I think I should have been a +man. Penang, Shanghai and Zanzibar, those cities with such thrillingly +wicked names, fascinate me; Tibet and inner China, all the far places, +call. There's something pagan and magnificent about it—a sort of broken +thread in me that matches the tapestry of it all. Oh, I'm sure I should +have been a man! I know if I were, I'd be an explorer and hunt among the +ruins of the Phœnicians and the Incas, and those other remnants of +ancient civilizations."</p> + +<p>Her words brought a tightening of the cords in his throat. Another who +dreamed of the fabulous isles! But, for a reason he did not analyze, he +could not place her in the picture she painted. Always, to him, the +music-room—white hands in the dusk.</p> + +<p>"But I'll have my fling," she continued; "only in a mild degree. My +brother's home is in Burma. I'm going to live with him, and we plan to +slip off every now and then. A trip to Malaya or Borneo or Java—I've +heard so much of the beauty of Batavia—or up the other way to Siam. +Siam! Isn't the very name magic? Bejewelled dancers and emerald Buddhas +and theaters where they pantomime ancient tales!... I'm not a reformist +in the least, but there's one sort of 'uplift work' I'd love to do—a +'purpose in life,' as some call it. I'd like to visit the far places and +return home and lecture to those whose boundaries are their own yards, +and try to make them understand that on the other side of the world +there are civilizations so much mellower than their own, and doctrines +of existence that have nothing to do with mints and stock exchanges!"</p> + +<p>Her voice was an expression of the high arcanum that he had glimpsed in +her eyes. Here was a woman who possessed the rare triumvirate of flesh +and mind and soul; whose gifts to men were other than brief summer +passions and earthly donations. He felt that it was irreverent when he +asked if he might smoke. As he touched a match to his cheroot, she went +on:</p> + +<p>"Oh, the West knows so little about the East, and the East so little +about the West, that it isn't strange that one misunderstands the +other.... But I'm boring you with this talk," she broke off +irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"Won't you go on?"—earnestly.</p> + +<p>She smiled. "It's impertinence for me to tamper with mysteries that I +haven't explored. No,"—still smiling—"I'm going back to my ken—to +Siamese dancers and pantomime shows. And that reminds me, is it safe to +go to a native theater? I'd feel as if I'd missed part of Calcutta if I +didn't see a Bengali performance."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't advise you to go alone." This soberly. "Too, if you don't +understand the language, it would prove rather dry entertainment."</p> + +<p>Another smile. "Why must a woman have such narrow man-made boundaries? +If you hint that it's dangerous, then you'll intrigue me the more."</p> + +<p>A recollection of the Chinese quarter flashed through him.</p> + +<p>"If you insist on going," he said, and he, too, was smiling, "I daresay +nothing can stop you—and the best possible thing for me to do is to +offer my guardianship."</p> + +<p>"It really wouldn't be stealing your time? Oh, it would be splendid!... +But you're leading me by all these shops. Shall we go in here?"</p> + +<p>It was an epochal morning for Trent. After the tension of the past few +days, he craved relaxation. This recess had a warmth and exhilarating +intimacy that was a stimulus to him, and he luxuriated in it, listening +attentively as the girl talked—talk that revealed little brilliant +flashes of her nature—and drinking in the study of rich tints that her +face and hair presented in the straw-colored light beneath her sunshade. +He had the feeling of a seaman in port, a boyish thrill at the freedom +from restraint; a few hours shore leave, then the sea again. He entirely +forgot his substantial shadow until they returned to the hotel. The +sight of the pink turban whipped him back into tension.</p> + +<p>"At five-thirty," she said as they parted. "And I'm sure it will be a +wonderful adventure."</p> + +<p>As she left him, Tambusami approached, smiling his ingratiating smile.</p> + +<p>"I have news to report, Presence," he announced. "It is indeed well that +I am here to protect your interests, for while you were away some one +entered your room, and had not I appeared at the opportune moment he +might—"</p> + +<p>"You had him arrested?" Trent cut in.</p> + +<p>"I went to your room, and hearing strange sounds within, I looked +through the keyhole and saw a man—a brown man. Knowing he was a thief, +I took the liberty of entering. He had opened your trunk—oh, they are +clever, these thieves!—but he did not have a chance to steal +anything."</p> + +<p>"You caught him?"</p> + +<p>The smile left Tambusami's face. "He was too strong for me, Presence; he +had muscles like the unicorn!"</p> + +<p>Trent considered a moment. Then: "Whose servant are you—mine or hers?"</p> + +<p>Tambusami beamed. "<i>She</i> pays me to be <i>your</i> bearer!"</p> + +<p>"Then say to her that I'm capable of taking care of myself and that +you're to be my servant from now on and <i>not</i> my shadow. We'll only be +here until to-morrow, which no doubt she's already told you, but until +then you'll watch my room instead of me."</p> + +<p>Trent found the silk-wrapped packet safe in his trunk. Nothing was +disturbed or missing. However, he surmised that the "thief" gained what +he came after—knowledge of his, Trent's, destination. Was this the hand +of that mysterious power he had felt in Benares when he awakened to +discover an intruder in his room? But what power could it be? Not +Sarojini Nanjee. Who?... Plot and counter-plot. Each day fixed in him +more immovably the belief that behind the activities in which he was +involved was a sinister purpose, more stupendous, when revealed, than he +imagined. Every new incident, like a hand in the night, lured him, +beckoning, but never fulfilling the promise of disclosure. Adventure! +And only one thorn to prick the joy from it.... Manlove....</p> + +<p>It came to him suddenly that perhaps, unaware of it, he was exploring +the fabulous isles of his fancy.</p> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<p>They had tea at a restaurant in Government Place. She wore the black +straw hat with cornflowers and wheat woven about the crown. White voile +caressed slender limbs and fell away in a deep hem to give a glimpse of +silk-stockinged ankles and suède shoes.</p> + +<p>They rode along Beadon Street in a glamorous after-sunset glow (the car +was threading through swarms whose sheet-like garments blended softly +with the gray pastel of houses and the lingering rose-light) and Trent, +eyes upon the girl, felt the sheer call of youth and romance at dusk. +The very atmosphere was an electrode, drawing its current from the first +white stars. Nor was Dana Charteris unreceptive. She was aware of a +shielding warmth, and not of the physical, in his presence. The play of +muscles of sunburnt cheek and jaw was vital and challenging, but behind +that, more convincing because it was not visible to the eye, but to a +sense of inner perception, was a compelling cleanliness; strength that +had not to do with thews or tendons.</p> + +<p>The theater was in a neighborhood of white houses and green palms, close +to Beadon Square; their seats in an orchestra-stall. Over the pit hung +oil lamps, round yellow moons suspended in cavernous gloom; dim electric +lights in the ceiling; about them, a loose-robed, turbaned audience, the +majority chewing pellets of crushed areca-nut and lime.</p> + +<p>Musicians in white raiment filed in and played an overture, and the +performance began.... A tale of chivalrous deeds and chivalrous days +(thus translated Trent in a whisper, as the actors, flashes against the +rich gloom of a back-drop, recited their lines); of Kurnavati, the Rani +of Chitor, and Humayun, the Great Mogul. Bahadur Shah, so went the +story, was hurling his armies against Chitor. The Rani had sent out the +pride of the Rajputs, but they could not check the onrush of Bahadur +Shah. Chitor was lost. Then the Rani, recalling a custom, took from her +arm a bracelet and gave it to a servant, bidding him carry it, with a +plea for succor, to Humayun, the Great Mogul. The servant departed.... +And the first act ended.</p> + +<p>"And you said it would be dull!" This from Dana Charteris when Trent had +explained all that happened. "Somehow it makes me think of the Brahmin +priest who lectured—a sort of thrilling mysticism; color and tragedy."</p> + +<p>Just before the second act Trent glanced around the betel-chewing +audience and saw—a pink turban. It disappeared as he looked, and he +smiled at the thought of Tambusami crouching between the seats of the +back row of stalls.</p> + +<p>The second act was at the court of Humayun. The messenger of the Rani of +Chitor arrived; presented the bracelet. Humayun, knowing of the custom, +accepted it. By that act he became the bracelet-brother of the Rani, +bound by custom to go to her if she called. Then the servant delivered +the Rani's plea. And Humayun, who was a noble monarch, drew a jewelled +sword from a jewelled scabbard and declared that the blade should not +return to its sheath until his bracelet-sister was free of the +oppression of Bahadur Shah.</p> + +<p>Thus the second act. There was a third; a fourth. Clash of steel upon +steel; the clangor and strident ring of battle. In the last act Humayun +reached Chitor—too late. For Kurnavati, rather than be conquered by the +terrible Bahadur Shah, died upon the funeral pyre. And Humayun, borne to +the walls in a golden palanquin, looked toward the smoky ruins and wept.</p> + +<p>Trent, leaving the theater, let his eyes quest over the crowd in search +of Tambusami. But he had gone. However, the Englishman suspected he +would find him at the hotel, the essence of innocence.</p> + +<p>"Now that you've seen the Chinese quarter and a Bengali theater," he +said as they rode toward the modern city, "what other reason can you +think of to prowl about after dark?"</p> + +<p>"I won't have another chance in Calcutta," she answered, smiling. "I'm +leaving to-morrow; and when I'm with my brother—well, you know how +brothers are.... I felt so sorry for the Rani in the play—she looked as +I've always visualized <i>Ameera</i>, in 'Without Benefit of Clergy.' Was +that really a custom—the part about the bracelet-brother?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"It was superb romance." The brown eyes deepened. "I shall always +remember that story of Humayun and Kurnavati—and remember you for +explaining it to me."</p> + +<p>Silence of a few seconds followed. Then Trent ventured:</p> + +<p>"I daresay I sha'n't see you again before I go. I sail to-morrow noon."</p> + +<p>"Really? I'm sailing then, too. I suppose you're going back to England?"</p> + +<p>"No. I"—he hesitated—"I'm bound for Burma."</p> + +<p>She laughed, a bit tremulously—that laugh of soft monsoon showers.</p> + +<p>"Why, so am I. Surely you're not booked on the <i>Manchester</i>?"</p> + +<p>The face that was turned to her, faintly bronze in the street-lights, +was impassive enough; his only expression was of mild, polite surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes—on the <i>Manchester</i>."</p> + +<p>His thoughts were swept by two currents, one shot with chill warnings, +the other warm with the wine of anticipation. But for the incident of +the uniform at Benares, the announcement that she would sail on the same +boat would have done anything but disturb him. However, even if she did +suspect his brother-fabrication, she could not guess his mission. As +Tavernake she knew him. A few days more—a lengthening of the +<i>intermezzo</i>, rich notes and chords of harmony to remember +afterward—then, at Rangoon, the finale. <i>Allegro moderato</i>.... No harm, +this Tavernake interlude; a cool breath to the being, like temple-dusk +after arid desert heat.</p> + +<p>"What a coincidence!" she remarked; then explained, "My brother lives in +Rangoon. But he isn't there now. He had an—an accident in Delhi, and I +came ahead to attend to some matters for him. Oh, nothing serious +happened to him, or I wouldn't be here. But it is queer that we're going +on the same boat. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>And he replied in a manner that was new for him.</p> + +<p>"Not altogether. It merely proves that Kismet had a purpose in arranging +our meeting last night."</p> + +<p>"A purpose?" she echoed—and they both were thinking different thoughts.</p> + +<p>They were in Chitpur Road; soon Chowringhee; then the hotel. To him the +throbbing of the motor car suddenly became the pulse of the night, of +the hot street where, on either side, dark faces peered curiously at +them. Subconsciously, his brain dipped back; he saw her beneath the +black-and-gold scroll on the previous night.... Her voice broke in, a +crystallization of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking how foolish it was," she said, "for me to have done what +I did last night."</p> + +<p>"You mean"—he smiled—"in speaking to me, or—"</p> + +<p>A whimsical laugh. "Both. Oh, don't misunderstand me! The thought just +occurred that—well, my adventure might have turned out differently. I'm +wondering, too, if I should have come with you to-night. Instead of a +jeweller from London, you might have been—anything. What I'm trying to +say, and doing it badly, is that after all we're prisoners of +instinct—at the mercy of elements that we have not the power to +fathom!"</p> + +<p>A pause ensued, and when she spoke again her tone was one of light +raillery, yet beneath it was a tense excitement that puzzled him.</p> + +<p>"And consider. For all you know I might have planned that meeting in the +Chinese quarter for a—a dreadful purpose. Even now I may be spinning a +web around you!" Then, with a laugh, she switched the topic. "It will be +pleasant to have an acquaintance aboard. Voyages are rather monotonous +when one is alone, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>Conversation was not at its best during the remainder of the ride, and +at the hotel they parted with a few words, rather stilted words. He'd +surely see her on the boat. Yes, he must look her up. She had enjoyed +the evening tremendously. A last glimpse of her eyes, of their luring +mystery; then she was gone.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Trent did not go to sleep immediately. He lay in darkness and smoked a +cheroot, puzzling over what Dana Charteris had said.</p> + +<p>"... For all you know I might have planned that meeting.... Even now I +may be spinning a web around you!"</p> + +<p>Those words lodged in his brain, baffled him. There was something he +could not understand, but none the less intriguing, in the still, +obscure depths below the surface ripples.</p> + + +<h3>6</h3> + +<p>Trent did not see Dana Charteris the next day. It was raining and +Calcutta was gray and dismal. Tambusami appeared early and saw to it +that his luggage was transferred to the ship. Trent felt that his very +spirits were moist as he rode to the boat. Even his cabin was damp, +cheerless.</p> + +<p>Shortly before five o'clock the <i>Manchester</i> warped out from the jetty, +her twin screws churning the brown water. Trent, looking out of his +cabin window, saw Calcutta draw robes of rain about her and fade. The +smoke-stacks of Howrah's mills were blurred fingers appealing to a stark +sky; leaves, wind-whirled from toddy-palms on the mud banks, spun across +the Hoogly; only when lightning scribbled a line of vivid lavender +across the heavens was the gray monotony relieved.</p> + +<p>The world was an old, old woman, and the sound of the steamer's whistle +was her hoarse, stricken voice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>HSIEN SGAM</h3> + + +<p>Nightfall found the <i>Manchester's</i> prow bearing into a thin mist. The +rain had slackened to a fine diamond-drizzle; lightning no longer wrote +livid ideographs upon the sky, but flashed far away in faded flares.</p> + +<p>Trent did not see Dana Charteris at dinner, as he expected. "<i>Dummkopf +Englischer</i>"—thus he was catalogued by a German merchant from Celebes +who sat at the same table in the dining-salon and succeeded in drawing +only monosyllables from him. The gentleman from Celebes was hot, damp +and irritable, and he found fuel for his ill-humor in the Englishman who +sat beside him and ate mangosteens with the air of one who liked such +beastly heathen food.</p> + +<p>After the meal Trent sought the smoking-room with a volume of lyrics, +much to the disgust of his German dinner-companion, who, in passing, +read, "Poems of Alan Seeger" over his shoulder. But Trent could not fix +his attention upon the reading matter, and he sat with the book in one +hand, a lighted cheroot in the other, and his interest nowhere in +particular. He was suffering the first anæsthetizing effects of a drowsy +boredom.</p> + +<p>"... You'll have to go higher than that if you want to see me!" rasped +a voice close by, and there followed a click of chips, a laugh.</p> + +<p>Clouds of grayish smoke, fanned into fantastic shapes by electric +punkas, floated on dead atmosphere, personifying the languor that had +suddenly quartered in Trent. A white-clad deck-steward slid through the +vaporous whorls, serving frosty glasses of <i>arrica</i>, or whiskey and soda +to those less favorably inclined toward exotic liquors.</p> + +<p>"... But surely, my friend, you would resent it if <i>we</i> sent +missionaries to your country," a voice not far behind him was saying; a +quiet voice that separated itself from the drone of conversation, a +voice with a peculiar, alien note that caused Trent to wonder, after he +heard it, why it had not penetrated to him before. "Why, imagine the +indignation of your—what do you call them, New Yorkers?—if Buddhist +priests established a mission in that vast and bewildering city; if they +so presumed as to try to press their creed upon those of another +religion."</p> + +<p>Trent was possessed of a desire to turn; he merely sat expelling smoke +from his nostrils, listening without consciousness of eavesdropping.</p> + +<p>Another voice, quieter still and more reserved—an American +voice—answered. "The result of such a thing," it said, "would be ... +well, in the first place no Christian would...."</p> + +<p>"That is precisely it. Do you wonder, then," resumed the voice with the +alien note, "that we resent the intrusion of missionaries? What does it +matter if Deity is symbolized by Buddah, Mohammed or a Nazarene? God is +one. No, my friend, you cannot convince me that it is better for my +people to substitute your God for theirs. In other relationships they +should be friendly, and they are, but in religion ... a colossal +misunderstanding. My people are declining; soon, as a man of letters +once said, the rust of our departed glory will corrode us and reduce us +to the dust into which our empire has dwindled. Russian wine, Japanese +greed and Western vices—a combination too strong for the slender +potencies of our flesh. On the other hand, you Anglo-Saxons, Celts, +Normans, Huns and Slavs will continue to build your empires; to fight +among yourselves (there will be no war between East and West); to go +forward in science and invention.... Yes, I am returning home."</p> + +<p>The American voice asked a question. A laugh, selvaged with irony, +answered it, and—</p> + +<p>"No, I shall not attempt to 'enlighten' my people. I have studied in +your universities, dipped into your learning; now, true to the blood, I +go back. Perhaps, were you to see me in a few months, you would be +shocked, for I shall be a 'barbarian'.... What? Satisfied? Yes, I +believe I will. Your country has its dramas, its libraries—so very +much—yet I could not but feel, when I was there, that the structure of +your land is a—a <i>Frankenstein</i>, do you call it?—of self-stimulated +delight, something soulless. Millions worshipping the false gods of +body-pleasure; vassals of the senses, ignoring the fact that there are +hungers above mere flesh-appetite."</p> + +<p>The voice fascinated Trent, gave him a picture of deft fingers inlaying +a mosaic; thoughts chosen with care and spoken as though filtered +through many translations before they left the tongue in the integument +of English.</p> + +<p>"... I hope I have not offended you," the voice resumed. "I feel no +rancour, you understand, only an ache—a very great ache—over this +colossal misunderstanding.... You must go? Then, good night!"</p> + +<p>A chair moved. After a moment a man in somber clerical garb passed and +left the smoking-room. Trent closed his book; placed his burnt-out +cheroot in an ash-bowl; got up. And the quiet voice behind him asked:</p> + +<p>"Your pardon. Have you a match?"</p> + +<p>Trent turned. Whatever he expected, he was surprised at what he saw. An +Oriental of no common type. He registered an impression of bronze, +almost beautiful, features; a high, Mongoloid skull; dark eyes, veiled +by an impalpable haze of tobacco smoke; moist, sensitive lips, rather +thin and too red. Features that drew and repelled him in the same +instant—face of a Buddha, and eyes.... He groped in an effort to +understand the eyes. The man wore tweeds with the air of one accustomed +to Western clothing, and he had a poise, a finish to the minutest detail +of dress, that, in a yellow man, seems sleek and "dossied" to the eyes +of the Occident.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the Oriental, as Trent gave him a match.</p> + +<p>The Englishman nodded perfunctorily and left the smoking-room, a picture +of the bronze, beautiful face, lighted by the flaring match, engraved +upon his brain.</p> + +<p>His curiosity led him to the purser's office where he consulted the +register. His eyes paused as they encountered the name "Dana Charteris"; +roved down the list of first-class passengers to a signature that stood +out from the others by its very <i>bizarrerie</i>.</p> + +<p>"Hsien Sgam," he mused aloud. "Hmm.... Sgam—Sgam.... Mongolian."</p> + +<p>And he went to his cabin to fetch a raincoat, still thinking of the +bronze face of Hsien Sgam.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>Trent twice circled the promenade deck. The faint drizzle had ceased, +but there was a dampness in the mist that moistened his face as with +spray. Yet he could not bring himself to the point of turning in. The +scene exerted an irresistible fascination over him. The spectral pallor +of cabin walls; portholes aglow in the murk; a gentle vibration +underfoot; the <i>swish-swish</i> of the tide against the hull.</p> + +<p>On his third round of the ship he paused aft, at a point that yielded a +view of gaping cargo-well and the steerage. He could see the forms of +steerage-passengers—amorphous blurs in the hazy night. A tongue of +yellow lapped out from a bleary deck-lamp and licked across crowded +bodies, groping stanchions and hatches, touching twin ventilators that +reared up, like phantom cobras, out of the jungle of human beings. Some +one was piping on a reed flageolet—an eerie, tuneless wailing. He +almost imagined the pink turban of Tambusami among the spot-like +head-dresses below.</p> + +<p>As he passed the wireless-house, at a turn of the promenade-deck, he +caught a glimpse of green-shaded lights. A breath of tobacco warmly +brushed his face; he heard the crackle of static trickling in.</p> + +<p>It was not yet ten-thirty when he went to his cabin. He undressed +leisurely, reflecting the while. Then, lighted pipe between his teeth, +he established himself in his berth with a newspaper. But the restful +churn of the engines had a somnolent effect upon him, and presently he +tossed the news-sheet away, put out the light and settled himself for +sleep.</p> + +<p>And did not.</p> + +<p>Of late, since the night he found Manlove in the ruined temple at Gaya, +he had formed the habit of reviewing, after retiring, the incidents of +the day. This habit clung. Sleep that a moment ago courted him, now +evaded his advances. A picture of the Mongol created itself in illusive +imagery before him. A woman's mouth—and a woman's hands, for the skin +that touched his as he gave the Oriental a match had the feel of satin. +Long hands, they were; but he fancied that beneath the silken smoothness +was sinuous, fibrous strength. They.... But why in Tophet was he +thinking of this Buddha-faced heathen? He shut his mind. But thoughts +refused to be excluded from their dominion. Nor could he sleep. His +eyelids rebelled against closing, and when now and then he succeeded in +downing their resistance, it was only to have them lift the next instant +and show him the dim monotony of the state-room, relieved by the murky +gray porthole.</p> + +<p>And as he stared at the porthole, contemplating it vindictively, as if +it were responsible for his wakefulness, it suddenly darkened.</p> + +<p>When he became fully cognizant of the fact that a face was peering in at +him, it had vanished—but as he sat up, his every nerve alive, he +witnessed a second apparition.</p> + +<p>The murk outside the porthole gave birth to a hand that sank into the +dim obscurity within, then reappeared, stamped momentarily in relief +upon the gray circle, and withdrew into the foggy gloom that had yielded +it.</p> + +<p>Trent sprang from his berth. As his feet touched the floor, he heard a +thudding sound on the deck; a low exclamation; running footsteps. At the +door he fumbled with the lock, then stepped into the cross-corridor +vestibule-way and rushed out upon the deck.</p> + +<p>A nearby deck-lamp shone in the mist like a nebula-ringed planet, +shedding paltry light upon moist timbers and begrudgingly revealing a +pale turban as it disappeared around a projection of the deckhouse.</p> + +<p>And there was not only one turban, for another followed the first!</p> + +<p>Trent threw a glance right and left; broke into a run, his bare feet +padding on the damp planks; paused at the corner of the deckhouse. A few +yards beyond, a companionway spilled a plenitude of light. Voices came +to him above the rumble of the steamer's screws; a woman's laugh. He +stood motionless for a moment, hesitating; then, chagrined, returned to +his cabin and switched on the light.</p> + +<p>No recess from intrigue, even on the ship! Mystery ever at his heels. +Was this another demonstration of the power whose hand he felt at +Benares and Calcutta?</p> + +<p>He fastened the wingbolts upon the brass-bound port-glass; pulled the +curtain to insure against observation from outside. Not until then did +the glittering object at his feet capture his attention. As he saw it a +charge, as of an electric current, tingled the length of his body. It +seemed unreal, impossible—until he picked it up. The contact assured +him it was no vision, that he held in his hand a coral silver-chased +oval with a broken clasp—the pendant that he had found in Manlove's +dead fingers.</p> + +<p>Cold anticipation settled upon him. He inserted a fingernail under the +band that bound the oval; hesitated, stayed by a queer reluctance. He +held what he believed to be a key to the mystery of Manlove's death. A +single move and the name engraved within would be disclosed—the +identity.... But suppose there was no name; suppose—</p> + +<p>He pressed under the silver band ... and a knock sounded on the door.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>Trent did not stir for a space of several seconds. Then, reluctantly, he +placed the pendant under his pillow and opened the door.</p> + +<p>A grotesque effigy grinned at him. After an intent scrutiny he +recognized Tambusami—Tambusami, turbanless, blood welling from a cut in +his cheek, but, despite the wound, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I have him, Presence!" he announced.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>The native looked amazed at what he evidently considered gross +stupidity, and elucidated:</p> + +<p>"The he-goat that came to your window! It was he who—"</p> + +<p>Trent cut in. "Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"There, Presence!"—with an indefinite wave of his hand. "By the +wireless-house!"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you bring him here?"</p> + +<p>"He is tied, Presence, to a—what do you call them?"</p> + +<p>"Go watch him," Trent rapped. "I'll be there directly."</p> + +<p>Trent slipped into trousers and coat and made his way aft, up a flight +of iron stairs, to the turn of the promenade deck. There, in the zone of +greenish light cast from the door of the wireless-house, he beheld a +startling tableau.</p> + +<p>Tambusani, in the grip of two white-uniformed men (from the +wireless-house or the deck-watch, Trent surmised), was protesting and +gesticulating excitedly toward a huddled figure by the rail. The latter +was a native, bound to a stanchion with a pink turban-cloth, the end of +which was stuffed into his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I can vouch for that man," Trent announced crisply, coming up. "The +other fellow"—pointing at the native by the rail—"is a thief. He tried +to enter my cabin. My servant happened along and followed him up here."</p> + +<p>He saw, then, that one of the uniformed men wore chevrons of gold +sparks; the other was a deck-steward. To the latter he spoke first.</p> + +<p>"Will you call the captain? I want a word with him.... Thanks." Then to +the wireless-operator: "I'll take charge of this fellow now. And you +might keep this affair quiet."</p> + +<p>The operator smiled wisely (he didn't have to see credentials to spot +'em!) and withdrew into the room where the powerful machines buzzed and +crackled.</p> + +<p>"Now, you fellow," said Trent, removing the improvised gag from the +"thief's" mouth. "Who put you up to this?"</p> + +<p>Sullen eyes glowed. "Yonder devourer of pork lies, Sahib!"—with a +venomous look at Tambusani.</p> + +<p>"Son of a dog!" flung back the other. "Mohammedan whelp!"</p> + +<p>"Stop it, both of you!" ordered Trent. "Tambusami, what have you to +say?"</p> + +<p>One hand pressed to his cheek, Tambusami explained.</p> + +<p>"He is a liar and a thief, O Presence. It was he I caught in your room +in Calcutta—who got away from me! I recognized him as he passed me in +the steerage—and I followed. He went to your cabin and—"</p> + +<p>Trent broke in, directing a question at the suspected one.</p> + +<p>"Do you deny that?"</p> + +<p>"I am an honest man, Sahib!"—sullenness giving away to fright. "That +body-louse is a sink of lies!"</p> + +<p>Trent pressed on. "Will you tell me who gave you that—? Well, you know +what you dropped in my cabin."</p> + +<p>"I am an honest man, Sahib! I was walking along the deck and—"</p> + +<p>"Whose servant are you?"</p> + +<p>"No man's. My name is Guru Singh. I go to Rangoon to—"</p> + +<p>"If you're not a servant, then you had no business out of the steerage. +I'm going to have you put in irons, and when we reach port you'll be +taken up by the police—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Sahib! By Allah, I am an honest man!"</p> + +<p>Trent reflected a moment before he spoke again. "You insist, then, that +you didn't drop—something—into my cabin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sahib!"</p> + +<p>The captain arrived at that juncture, a subordinate at his heels. Trent +explained to him what had happened, adding—a shade too darkly, he +thought—certain words that impressed upon that worthy officer his +authority to conclude with: "And I want him locked up."</p> + +<p>The captain gave an order to his subordinate, who hastened away, and +Trent addressed Guru Singh in Hindustani, which he felt certain the +master of the vessel did not understand.</p> + +<p>"You would rather be put in irons than tell who your master is?"</p> + +<p>"I have no master, Sahib!"</p> + +<p>"Very well. We will see how you feel about it to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Shortly two men appeared and led the protesting Guru Singh below—but +not before Tambusami had rescued his turban-cloth.</p> + +<p>"It is defiled," he said, looking at it regretfully and letting it drop +over the rail.</p> + +<p>"Come with me," directed Trent. "I'll take a look at your cut."</p> + +<p>It was only a flesh wound Trent ascertained when they were in his +state-room, and after bathing it in a sterilizing solution and binding +it with an adhesive strip, he dismissed Tambusami with a brief +commendation for his prowess.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing, O Presence," declared the native, magnanimously. "With a +lord who deals in magic medicines, why should not I watch over him, as a +keeper over his cheetah?"</p> + +<p>And the Englishman was not quite certain that Tambusami didn't wink as +he went out.</p> + +<p>Subconsciously, Trent had been thinking all the while of the coral +pendant; now it filled his mind. Again he felt the chill anticipation. +His hand shook as he jerked aside the pillow; shook, as he stared in +blank stupefaction.</p> + +<p>The oval was not there.</p> + +<p>As yet scarcely believing, he stripped back the sheet; turned over the +mattress; searched every crevice of the berth. But the pendant had +disappeared. It rather dazed him. Stolen. Once more a mysterious hand +had reached out and spirited away the oval. One thing it proved: that +there were two elements at work, lurking elements. But how swiftly! He +was gone only a few minutes!... Why in thundering hades hadn't he looked +inside before he went on deck? What a monumental fool!</p> + +<p>Which verifies for the millionth time the truth of a certain fable about +an <i>Equus caballus</i> and a stable.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>The next morning in the dining-salon Trent saw Dana Charteris, merely a +glimpse—a smile and a nod. She was at a table across the room. However, +later, as he was moving toward the purser's office, he came upon her aft +on the promenade deck, elbows upon the rail, eyes upon the steerage. She +turned as his step sounded behind her.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it glorious?" was her greeting, motioning toward the sea where +the sun had painted a glittering dragon on the intense blue.</p> + +<p>"Quite," he agreed, having forgotten the purser in the eternal wonder +of her eyes. "I hope you weren't ill last night?"</p> + +<p>"Not physically. I was doing penance."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think that would require all evening."</p> + +<p>A smile. "Would you like to become father-confessor?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>She let her eyes rest upon him in a curious, contemplative look.</p> + +<p>"How absolutely British!" she remarked. "An American would have agreed +instantly, but you, being British, only commit yourself half-way."</p> + +<p>"Isn't that diplomacy?" he asked, entering into her mood. She was +revealing another side of her nature. Each time he saw her she unfolded +more and bared to his gaze new and stimulating mysteries of her +personality.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. But I sha'n't confess to you now—just for that.... I +understand you didn't have a very quiet night."</p> + +<p>The only surprise he betrayed was a tightening of the muscles of the +jaw.</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>Her smile grew into a laugh. "Show some surprise, Stone-man, instead of +trying to impress me with the fact that you've suddenly acquired an +interest down there"—her white hand flashed toward the steerage. +"You're wondering how I know it, and seething with curiosity. You +wouldn't be human if you weren't."</p> + +<p>"I'm not"—forcing a smile. "But if you wish it, then how <i>do</i> you know +it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's considered excellent marine etiquette to visit the +wireless-house and worry the operator when one is bored—as I happened +to be this morning in the interim between my rising hour and +breakfast—"</p> + +<p>"And as feminine charm is an 'Open Sesame' to the secrets of +wireless-operators," Trent finished up, "this particular one told all he +knew."</p> + +<p>"Am I to accept that as flattery?"</p> + +<p>"Is it?" he countered; then, eager to learn just how much she knew, he +remarked casually: "Thieves are thick as mosquitoes in Asiatic +countries."</p> + +<p>"I know," was her unsatisfactory response, and, proof that a woman can +be quite uncommunicative when she wishes, she diverted conversation into +another channel. "I'm afraid, Mr. Tavernake, I've impressed you as +being—well, a foolish flippant child."</p> + +<p>His eyes met hers—barely a second.</p> + +<p>"Why should you think that?"</p> + +<p>She shrugged. "Oh, my endless talk of—of travel."</p> + +<p>He took out his pipe, asked permission to smoke; filled the bowl and +lighted it before he quoted:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We are those fools who could not rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dull earth we left behind....<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She took him up: "Doesn't it go on with—"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world where wise men live at ease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fades from our unregretful eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blind across uncharted seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We stagger on our enterprise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He nodded. While she was speaking he thought of the <i>andante +appassionato</i> comparison. Music always—she was that to him.</p> + +<p>"Uncharted seas!" she repeated. "They've always lured me. I felt the +call, but couldn't understand it until I read a tale several years ago. +'The White Waterfall' it was called. It seemed to open magic doors. +After that, 'Treasure Island' again, and 'She.' Stevenson, Kipling, +Conrad and Haggard—they are the masters that taught me the doctrine of +Romance and Adventure. Oh, I've always wanted a crowded +hour—excitement—the sting of winds not in books! I think after one +excursion into the reality I'd be willing to settle back into my +peaceful alcove of imaginings. Then I'd have food for my +fancies—something to remember in the quiet that followed. Don't you +think it would be alluring, in mellower years, to close your eyes and +dream—of wanderings in the 'Caves of Kor'—or the time you spent on a +pirate island?"</p> + +<p>"It's youth," he philosophized to himself. "Youth craving the open +spaces; hours of breathless living!"</p> + +<p>"It would," he said aloud.</p> + +<p>"But perhaps"—her voice sank to a dreamy tempo—"perhaps I'm having my +adventure now."</p> + +<p>(And many days passed before he understood what she really meant by +that.)</p> + +<p>Below them, in the steerage, a snake-charmer—a villainous-looking +fellow with a scar across one cheek and a drooping eyelid—was making +two cobras ripple to the sounds of a reed flageolet. The eerie, +tuneless wails were reminiscent of the previous night when Trent stood +on the same spot and looked below.</p> + +<p>"What would you think, Mr. Tavernake," the girl began, her voice very +solemn, "if you discovered that some one whom you trusted and believed +your friend was secretly striving for the thing you were working for. +Would you call it fair competition?"</p> + +<p>He applied a match to his burnt-out pipe, then regarded her—quite as +intently as she regarded him.</p> + +<p>"Are you making me father-confessor, after all?"</p> + +<p>She laughed, thus ending a very solemn moment.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, no!... But come, shall we take a walk?"</p> + +<p>They tramped about the ship for nearly an hour; then he established her +comfortably in a deck-chair and sat down at her side. They talked, +mostly frivolously—conversation that only now and then carried a vein +of seriousness. Not until after tiffin (he sat at her table, for she +quite naïvely suggested that he have the steward change his seat) did +they part, she for her cabin, he for the purser's office, which place he +suddenly remembered as his goal when he came on deck earlier in the day.</p> + +<p>He consulted the passenger-list, lingering over each name in search of +one that might seem likely as that of the person who had directed Guru +Singh's activities. There were thirty-one first-class passengers, the +majority English, with a scattering of Americans; the only Easterns +were, namely, an Indian gentleman (Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh, of Calcutta +University, his signature read), a Japanese and Hsien Sgam. Of the +group only one seemed likely, and he by virtue of his name and +nationality—Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh.</p> + +<p>Trent then sought the captain and after a short conversation (during +which he made a request that seemed rather extraordinary to the master +of the <i>Manchester</i>) he visited the imprisoned Guru Singh. Abuses, +threats, even promises of clemency, brought forth only: "I am an honest +man, Sahib!"</p> + +<p>His next move was to visit the steerage. A naked child with a ring in +its nose begged for a gift; brown bodies lay asleep on mats; the cobras +were still performing for the wicked-looking juggler. Stupid, +unintelligent faces....</p> + +<p>On the fore-deck a dark-skinned gentleman in European clothing was +talking with the clergyman to whom the Mongol had expressed his beliefs +the previous night. The former, Trent guessed, was Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh. +One glance eliminated him as a suspect.</p> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<p>Toward dusk the captain of the ship approached Trent in his deck-chair.</p> + +<p>"One of my men searched the steerage," he said, "and there wasn't a sign +of the ornament you described." Then politely, if not a little +curiously, "Was it of—er—particular value?"</p> + +<p>"It had its significance," was Trent's meager reply.</p> + +<p>"It's quite distressing, quite, to have thieves aboard. But in these +waters.... Is there anything else I can do for you?"</p> + +<p>There wasn't. And Trent went to his cabin to shave.</p> + +<p>After dinner he and Dana Charteris walked another mile around the +vessel; stood for some time in the bow, watching the flying-fish skim +the glassy undulations in greenish, phosphorescent flashes; sat in their +deck-chairs in the shadow of a looming cabin (and the spell of low-hung +Oriental stars) and talked of inconsequentials.</p> + +<p>For some time after she left, he sat sunken in cavernous absorption. He +was aroused by a voice close by—a quiet familiar voice that asked if it +were not a rare night. He turned to see a tall figure near his chair. +Starlight dwelt on even mobile features, a high forehead, slender hands +and eyes that looked inquisitively into his.</p> + +<p>He answered that it was indeed a rare night. Whereupon Hsien Sgam +politely enquired if he might occupy the chair next to Trent's. As he +moved, the Englishman noticed that he slued slightly to the left—saw +the twisted limb. The Mongol lit a cigarette. The flare of the match +brought his face into ruddy prominence. In that brief moment Trent felt +that ancient wickedness, refined to an exquisite degree, looked at him +from beneath the bronze lids; then the match died and Hsien Sgam spoke +in his quiet cultured voice, and Trent realized to what fantastic +borders imagination can extend.</p> + +<p>The Oriental asked perfunctorily if Trent intended to remain long in +Rangoon, and ventured that it was a very quaint city; and, quite as +perfunctorily, Trent responded that he wasn't sure how long he'd be in +Rangoon, and that from all he'd heard it must be very quaint. +Conversation threatened to pursue a dull course until Trent opened the +subject of the political situation in Mongolia.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mongolia!" Hsien Sgam drew a deep breath. "It is there as it is +elsewhere in the East. The Holy Lands, as you call them, are +dead—sterile as eunuchs. Ghandi preaches—is <i>Swaraj</i> the word?—in +India; China is locked in inner convulsions; Japan is a dragon with fire +in its nostrils; Korea and Manchuria are but manikins that act as Tokyo +directs; Siam, Indo-China, Malaya and Burma are the only peaceful +spheres, and their people are children, thoughtless children. Asia has +red wrath in her bowels. I am afraid for her. But Mongolia—you asked +about Mongolia?...</p> + +<p>"The world moves in cycles," the Easterner continued. "It is the +inexorable law. Asia was at its—er—pinnacle about twelve hundred and +twenty-seven; then Europe. Europe is dipping; next America—and after +that?" The slender hands shaped into an oddly expressive gesture. "The +failure of Sultan Baber was the beginning of a slow death for my +country. Now there seems but one future—that of a base from which Japan +can operate in Asia. Japan must have food, too, and already the +Szechuanese and other border people have pressed into Mongolia and +proved it fertile. And we have unworked mineral resources...."</p> + +<p>"But Japan is apparently retrenching in her policy," Trent reminded him, +finding himself interested. "What of the Allied Consortium?"</p> + +<p>He imagined he could see a smile upon the Mongol's face.</p> + +<p>"The Consortium is—forgive me—a bubble, a beautiful bubble with magic +prisms and exquisite tints. Japan will see to it that loans to China are +made as she wishes them."</p> + +<p>"Japan improved Korea"—thus baiting conversation.</p> + +<p>The reply came quietly, but vehemently. "Yes, my friend, Japan improved +Korea. She scientifically reforested its mountains, built roads and +railways, public buildings and sanitary houses.... But Japan slew soul +to erect in its stead a structure without conscience or heart. Japan may +improve China—but it is not for China, but for the time when Japan +controls China and compels her four hundred millions to form a unit of +her military organization."</p> + +<p>Quiet ensued for a space. The myriad sounds that brew in the bowels of a +vessel came to them—the jangle of bells, smothered by decks, and the +ponderous, deep-throated roar of funnels.</p> + +<p>"An example of Japan's purpose and her power is the cancellation of +Mongolian autonomy," pursued Hsien Sgam. "When my people formed a +government of their own, they expected the protection of Russia. But +Russia failed. Semenov, the Cossack adventurer and agent of Japan, +threatened invasion, and my people, frightened, appealed to China. The +consequences you know. Hsu Shu-cheng, with four thousand troops, +occupied Urga. Hsu forced the Hut'ukt'u to sign a petition returning +Mongolia to China. Later it was learned that Hsu's troops were equipped +with Japanese money."</p> + +<p>Trent settled deeper in his chair, his eyes lifted to the roaring +funnels where volumes of smoke were sucked up as by invisible vacua.</p> + +<p>"But there is a key to supremacy in Mongolia," Hsien Sgam resumed. "It +is the projected extension of the railway from Kalgan to Kiachta. +Whoever finances that, thus linking China with Europe, through Mongolia, +will be the sovereign power. Will Japan—or your Allied Consortium? I +think, my friend, the former—unless it is prevented. And how can that +be done?"</p> + +<p>Trent took him up. "How?"</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam did not answer immediately. Finally:</p> + +<p>"Mongolia can assert her rights—by force."</p> + +<p>Trent lowered his eyes to the indistinct outline of the Mongol's face.</p> + +<p>"She hasn't arms or ammunition or organization—and, furthermore, what +good would a revolution do?"</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam answered the latter half of his question.</p> + +<p>"It would give Mongolia self-government; and she could refuse a +concession to any power to construct a railway through her territory. +Organization? You spoke of that. No, they have no organization. But I +have a dream—an ultimate—do you say Utopia? It is a union of the +Mongols of Barga, the Buriats of Transbaikalia, the Chakhar tribe, the +Khalkas, and even the Hung-hu-tzees, into a single unit—or, if you wish +it, an empire. Tibet might be included. But that—that is only a dream. +There is but one man who could possibly bring that about—and he is a +pawn of China. The Dalai Lama...."</p> + +<p>In the pause that followed, the glow of his cigarette showed Trent an +imperial profile—like a bronze head of some Mongol conqueror he had +once seen. A queer analogy struck him. Timur the Lame, who seared Asia +with his vitriol. But there was an alien element in the likeness that he +conjured—dust on the reflection. It haunted Trent and eluded analysis.</p> + +<p>"The Church dominates Mongolia," the quiet voice went on, "and the Dalai +Lama is its—how do you say it, Pope? He lost much power when the +English drove him from Lhassa, but after years of wandering he came into +his pontificate again. However, the President of China had a purpose in +restoring him. He knew the power of Tubdan Gyatso—knew also that he +would be safer in Tibet than Mongolia."</p> + +<p>They smoked on. Presently Trent asked other questions, about customs and +people and history. The subject swung to literature. Hsien Sgam talked +at random of Chinese philosophers and poets: Confucius, Mencius, Lao +Tzü, Yang Chu, Kang-hsi. There were giant dimensions of mentality behind +his speech. Every word was surcharged with restless energy; thoughts hot +from the vortices of emotion. But, underneath, was a current of +bitterness that surged up at intervals and injected into his usual calm +a passionate, almost terrible, intensity. It was more evident when he +referred to his affliction.</p> + +<p>"My father, who was a prince of the house of Hlaje Khan, believed that +one of his sons should be sent into your world and acquire learning and +enlighten the people," he said. "I, being lame and never entering into +physical activities, was considered a student—and I was sent. Among the +elders it was looked upon as an honor, but those with whom I played as a +boy and grew up.... Well, in Mongolia, as elsewhere, virtue is in muscle +and cowardice in morality. I went into your world and—I say this with +no meanness—it hurt me. I took back wounds. Many things I was taught, +among them a realization of the truth of a certain Manchu proverb about +women. Yes—I wonder, my friend, why I tell you this, but perhaps it is +the night and the sea—a woman entered my life for the first time—a +woman who came as a leopard and left the mark of her claws."</p> + +<p>As he talked on, unfolding with a readiness that puzzled yet did not +fail to interest Trent, the latter closed his eyes and smoked, and +imagined he was transported, through some reversed medium of +metempsychosis, across a dead interval of time and was listening to the +voice of Timur the Lame. The stars drowsed above them, like sleepy eyes, +and the ship was a dim, prowling world when they parted.</p> + +<p>As Trent undressed he reflected upon the conversation with Hsien Sgam. +He felt that he had looked upon a tragic anomaly in the person of the +lame Mongol. Learning had refined his primitive impulses to a higher +degree of intellectuality; affliction had warped his vision. +Civilization, with him, was a varnish; he did not possess its essence. +In a day less modern, when men were not so well equipped to kill one +another, he might have risen to formidability; now, Trent felt, he could +go no further than that group of idealistic radicals whose careers are +meteoric, attaining little political significance and ending in the +pathetic justice of a firing squad.</p> + +<p>He wondered, too, if the encounter on deck was coincidence, or if Hsien +Sgam had deliberately sought him. The Mongol would bear watching, he +decided, simply for the reason that his own position was one of +insecurity and tampering fingers might send it toppling.</p> + +<p>Until he went to sleep the memory of Hsien Sgam haunted him, like the +shadow of Timur the Lame cast down through the centuries.</p> + + +<h3>6</h3> + +<p>Morning and another day of peacock-blue and gold.</p> + +<p>After breakfast Trent visited the confined Guru Singh. The native was no +more communicative than before but Trent did not press his point, for a +better plan than blatant questioning had asserted itself.</p> + +<p>When he returned to the deck he found Dana Charteris stretched out in +her chair, her slim person a symphony in white.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," was her greeting as she motioned him into the chair +beside her. "I reached a very definite decision last night."</p> + +<p>He smiled. <i>Andantino con languore</i> this time. There was a refreshing +draught in the mood that he instantly felt—light, golden wine to the +senses. Her eyes were like liquid amber.</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I used to think that all Englishmen were cold-mannered creatures +and quite indifferent to their wives, as fiction has it. I've undergone +a metamorphosis."</p> + +<p>He continued to smile as he packed his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Are you accusing us as a nation of polygamous practices?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She made a grimace. "Please don't try to be clever or you'll spoil my +opinion—and you know countries are judged by single representatives. I +warn you that I'm in a desperately serious mood, despite all +indications. As proof, I've been wondering if too much travel, too long +a sojourn in foreign lands, doesn't affect one's ideas and +philosophies—in other words, intoxicate one and leave a craving for the +wine of exotic environment."</p> + +<p>He contemplated the possibility that her remark was intended as +personal; dismissed it; waited for her to continue. Which she did.</p> + +<p>"Since you won't be human and ask why I think that, you force me to +confess that I'm leading up to a—a personal example."</p> + +<p>"Namely?"</p> + +<p>"Well—yourself."</p> + +<p>Another smile; he lighted his pipe. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"Really, would you be satisfied in a prosaic English or American +city—after—all this?"—with a vague gesture.</p> + +<p>He didn't know; hadn't thought about it. Perhaps—perhaps not.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe you would," was her opinion. "You've absorbed a certain +amount of atmosphere that has poisoned you in so far as living elsewhere +is concerned. I shouldn't be at all surprised, either, to learn that you +think Indian and Chinese religions superior to ours?"</p> + +<p>"Aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Are they?"</p> + +<p>"You, yourself, spoke a few days ago, if I remember correctly, of the +philosophies and doctrines of the East—doctrines that have nothing to +do with mints or stock-exchanges, as you expressed it."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But now I'm comparing the principles of religion—those adopted by +our thinkers and real philosophers. Oh, we have our nobler types, who +haven't been blinded by earth-dust! It may be a taint of the flesh in +me, but I can't adjust myself to the belief that the ascetics and +shrivelled yogis that I've seen are the proper habitations for pure +spirituality. If the manifestation isn't wholesome, how can the inner +conception be? You wouldn't fill an unclean vessel with holy water, +would you? It's the methods and instruments through which the East +voices its philosophies that I rebel against. That which mutilates, or +even neglects, the body, can't be a true religion.... But really, I'm +afraid I'm getting beyond my depth. What I originally intended to say is +this: occultism is dangerous to those of the West, minds and bodies of a +different substance than those of the Orient. I knew a man who became +interested in theosophy. After a time he entered some secret cult that +had a temple in the Himalayas. It grew to be an obsession, and now ... +well, he tried to touch flames that were not conceived for man-tampering +and they seared him."</p> + +<p>Trent chuckled. "In other words," he said, "you're afraid I'm a Buddhist +or a Mohammedan at heart, or, if by good fortune I'm not, you wish to +warn me against exotic religions." Another chuckle. "It's flattering. +What other conclusions have you drawn?"</p> + +<p>"Just at present," she responded, smiling maliciously, "I think you're +horrid."</p> + +<p>He sobered. "Please go on. It's like looking into your house from the +neighbor's window. I'm really interested."</p> + +<p>"Or curious? Men who have not ventured into matrimony are, as a rule, +inquisitive. And that suggests another question. It seems to me that one +alone would be much more receptive to these"—she smiled—"these +paganisms than one in union with another. Loneliness—that is, +isolation—is food for heresies."</p> + +<p>That showed him an old vista at a new angle. There was no +misinterpreting her meaning.... Women. A few, but none of consequence; +puerile passions and brief affairs of the starlight, never the full +ruddy glow of a riper devotion, the finding of the One Woman.... And +again, that might not have been her meaning at all. She—At a sudden +inspiration he spoke—before he considered.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, I'm not married, if that's what you mean."</p> + +<p>She gave him a queer look—half smiling, half vexed. There was a faint +suffusion of color in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I'm not quite sure," she announced, swinging her feet to the deck, "but +I've almost decided that you're impossible. However, I'll leave you +alone to decide for yourself."</p> + +<p>And she did.</p> + + +<h3>7</h3> + +<p>At dinner Trent sensed a change in Dana Charteris. She was quite +friendly, even inquired banteringly if he were angry because of the +manner in which she left him that morning, but there was, invisible, +indefinable, a reserve in her attitude that forbade a resumption of the +former intimacy. This troubled him.</p> + +<p>Later, on deck, he was brought out of his reflections by the sound of +uneven footsteps. Hsien Sgam approached. He was dressed in white and +seemed to Trent almost grotesque—the twisted limb and the beautiful, +yet strangely sinister, face!</p> + +<p>In the course of conversation he asked Trent's business. The answer +brought forth a short discourse upon precious stones. He then touched +the war—inquired if Trent had "seen service," as he termed it in a +thoroughly Occidental way. Realizing that he was being catechized, Trent +replied guardedly. In the East, quizzed the Mongol? No, on the Western +front, Trent lied. In the infantry, Hsien Sgam assumed? Yes, the +infantry....</p> + +<p>Of course Trent had traveled a great deal, he presumed. Well, a bit, the +Englishman admitted. If it were not too impertinent (thus the Mongol) he +imagined Mr. Tavernake had not always been "of the trade." He had the +appearance of—well, a soldier rather than a "business man"; one eager +for ranges and color and action, so to speak.</p> + +<p>It was then that Trent became more communicative. He was rather a +soldier of fortune, he acknowledged; intrigue lured him. But the Mongol +was as wary as he, for, perceiving the change in tactics, he turned the +talk into another channel.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later he moved on. Trent watched him limp off and puzzled +over this anomaly of a man. What was his object in catechizing him? He +could not even surmise; but he determined to take a drastic step toward +finding out.</p> + +<p>His first move led him to the purser's office. Closing the door quietly +behind him, he said:</p> + +<p>"I would like to borrow your pass-key a moment."</p> + +<p>"Sorry, sir," came the polite reply, "but it's against orders. I can +unlock your door—if you've lost the key—but—"</p> + +<p>"Suppose you call the captain," Trent suggested.</p> + +<p>"Tell him Mr. Tavernake wants to borrow the key. I'll be responsible for +it."</p> + +<p>While the purser was telephoning, Trent scanned the register. "Hsien +Sgam—No. 227," he read.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, sir," reported the purser, hanging up the receiver, a +new note of respect in his voice.</p> + +<p>Trent circled the deck, assured himself that Hsien Sgam was in the +smoking-room, then went aft to cabin No. 227. A turn of the key, a +glance behind into the vestibule-way, and he was inside. He locked the +door; drew the curtain across the window.</p> + +<p>A thorough search gained him little knowledge. Only clothing and a +hand-grip containing perfunctory toilet articles; there were no letters, +not even a passport. Evidently the Mongol carried all papers of +importance upon his person.</p> + +<p>Hardly assured, yet satisfied to a degree, Trent returned the key to the +purser and made his way toward his cabin—and as he rounded a corner of +the deckhouse he almost collided with Dana Charteris. She backed, half +in surprise, half in fright, to the rail, and gripped the white enameled +iron.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she flared. "You <i>do</i> appear at the most inopportune times!"</p> + +<p>And she stalked past him, entering the cabin before he could recover +himself enough to speak.</p> + +<p>Perplexed, he continued to his state-room. "Inopportune, indeed," he +muttered as he closed the door—for as she darted to the rail he saw her +fling something overboard, an object that flashed white as it shot past +the scuppers.</p> + +<p>He sat down on the edge of the berth; filled his pipe.</p> + +<p>What was she carrying that she did not want him to see? It could not +have been of value or she would not have disposed of it in that manner. +But....</p> + +<p>He ran his fingers through his hair; puffed on his pipe.</p> + +<p>Was it possible—? No, the very suspicion was preposterous; he was +surprised that it should even occur to him. Yet, he acknowledged, a +certain king of Ithaca believed in the beauty of Calypso. Forcing +himself to face the situation, he reviewed his short acquaintance with +Dana Charteris in a cold, scrutinizing light. The result was not +altogether pleasing. Their midnight encounter on the portico at Benares +was hardly reassuring, now that he looked at it through a different +lens, nor was the meeting in the Chinese quarter, in Calcutta.... +<i>Intermezzo!</i> Would it end in discord? He smiled grimly, confessing to +himself that grave doubts (and, deeper than doubts, an ache that was not +physical) had arisen from this new development. Had he been a fool?</p> + +<p>He fortified his mind against such thoughts. What substantial reason had +he to suspect that her interest in him was other than personal? +(Personal! That word was fine ego.) The incident on deck—Well, he +evaded, it might have been anything that she threw overboard, a +handkerchief ... or.... At least, he would not be so unjust as to +suspicion her—or anyone, he enlarged—upon such meager suppositions.</p> + +<p>Only partially satisfied, he retired. He did not go to sleep for some +time—and when he awakened in the morning, with the sun raining bronze +needles at the blue sea, his first recollection was of the incident on +the previous night. Considered in daylight, it lost its dark +significance, but, nevertheless, made him vaguely uneasy.</p> + +<p>This brooding discontent grew with the day. Dana Charteris was not in +the dining-salon at breakfast, nor did she come on deck during the +morning. He sat near her chair, waiting, his mind barred against either +condemnation or justification. He would reserve his decision until he +heard what she had to say. When she appeared (and it seemed that she +never would) she could probably clear the incident with a few words, an +explanation that would no doubt shed a light of absurdity upon his +apprehensions.</p> + +<p>But she did not appear, not even at tiffin, and he passed a restless +afternoon. He walked the vessel from bow to stern, from bridge to the +torrid depths where beings heaved fuel into her hungry stomach, +impatient with the unseen forces that controlled his affairs.</p> + +<p>He saw Hsien Sgam several times, but avoided him, for his mood was not a +friendly one. A short interview with Guru Singh—who clung to the +integrity of his honor—only served to irritate him, and a few minutes +later when he came upon Tambusami, in the steerage, confabbing with the +snake-charmer (he of the scar and the drooping eyelid) he snapped him +up in his laconic way for having removed the dressing from his cut.</p> + +<p>(And it would not have improved his mental estate had he seen the manner +in which the snake-charmer's afflicted eye watched him leave the +steerage.)</p> + +<p>The sun sank. Its sullen crimson bled upon cirrus clouds; faded with +dusk; was absorbed as night bound the sky with gauzy blue and stars came +forth to cool the fevered pulse of day.</p> + +<p>Trent had just taken his seat in the dining-salon when Dana Charteris +entered. White shoulders rose above the silver-cloth and flame-blue +tulle of an evening frock. The startling shade of blue challenged out +the deeper tints of her eyes; her pallor was made more lustrous by red +lips and russet-gold hair. At sight of her he felt the blood throb in +his throat.</p> + +<p>"I hope you haven't been ill," he said as he placed her chair.</p> + +<p>She smiled in a rather strained manner, he thought.</p> + +<p>"I've been a poor sailor to-day."</p> + +<p>A pause; then he plunged. "I should like to have a word with +you—alone."</p> + +<p>She met his gaze unsmilingly. For a moment he thought she would refuse.</p> + +<p>"There's to be a dance to-night—you knew it?" He shook his head. +"Suppose I give you—the third?"</p> + +<p>"I'd prefer not to dance," he returned solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll go on deck."</p> + + +<h3>8</h3> + +<p>The night was blue and moonless; no ordinary blue, but the clear, rich +shade found in the depths of a sapphire, and it poured out as from an +invisible fountain, blending the sky and sea; it caught a thousand stars +in its flood and they, like diamonds cast into an unstirred pool, pulsed +with lazy insolence above the oily swells.</p> + +<p>Trent, leaning on the port rail, pipe between his teeth, heard the +throbbing violins cease. He straightened up sharply. There was a patter +of applause from the main salon; an encore. He knocked the dottle from +his pipe and sauntered nearer the doorway; there he waited impatiently +for the encore to end.</p> + +<p>Once more the violins ceased; a ripple of applause. But the music did +not resume. Several couples emerged from the salon. Dana Charteris +appeared as Trent was within several paces of the door; paused a moment +in the frame, her hair glimmering in the brazen light. Then she saw him; +joined him.</p> + +<p>"Shall we walk?" she asked. He thought there was a tremor in her voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Their mutual inclination led them toward the fore-deck. In the bow, +beyond a monster coil of rope, they halted as with one accord. He stood +looking out over the blue-black sea; she backward, across decks, at the +huge funnels where smoke piled upward into darkness.</p> + +<p>"Miss Charteris," he began, quite calmly, "I daresay you know why I +asked for a word with you."</p> + +<p>She was still watching the smoke. "I daresay I do," she replied, not so +calmly.</p> + +<p>He went on.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to be frank—even abrupt. Will you tell me what you threw +overboard last night?"</p> + +<p>Silence followed. The big ship throbbed, but it seemed far away, part of +another world; in his sphere there was but the girl, himself and the +stars. He thought he saw her shiver—although it was not chilly.</p> + +<p>Finally she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Before I answer, there's something I must say. You are frank; I, too, +will be frank." Her eyes shifted to his face. "I feel sure you're aware +that I am not so stupid as to believe your name is Tavernake—or that +you are a—a jeweller. Furthermore, you know I saw you in uniform in +Benares. Your story about the brother was—rather flat." She smiled +faintly. "I'm no child, Mr.—yes, I'll continue to call you Tavernake. I +have imagination; I have guessed you are engaged in some sort of +important work—work that you must not be distracted from. At first, I +didn't care—particularly—or perhaps I was weak. So I let myself drift +along. It's so easy to drift, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>A new tone had come into her voice; a softer, more poignant quality. It +carried to him a lofty exhilaration. He knew it was dangerous, yet, for +the while, it thrilled him. The looming masts beyond the coil of rope +were transformed, in his eyes, into the enchanted rigging of a dream +ship.</p> + +<p>"... So I took the easiest course—because I found you interesting. Then +it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I was interfering with your +duty. I knew I must stop. I resolved to—to end our friendship as easily +as possible, without hurting you—or me. I hoped, after my outburst last +night, you wouldn't try to see me again; that you'd be angry."</p> + +<p>She smiled; let her hand rest lightly, he knew unconsciously, upon his +arm.</p> + +<p>"You understand? To-day I was—well, afraid of you and of myself. I had +my meals served in my state-room. But I realized I had acted in a way +that would seem strange to you; so I came out to-night to explain. If I +give you my word that what I did last night is of no consequence to you, +will you spare me the embarrassment of explaining? It <i>will</i> be +embarrassing, Mr. Tavernake, very. Yet it was such a small incident!"</p> + +<p>Her hand slipped from his arm; she lowered her eyes. Trent, watching +her, felt that at last he had explored to the inner shrine of that +arcanum in her eyes. He saw altar-flames there.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it wise," she resumed, looking up, "that we discontinue +our association—not our friendship—now, to-night? To-morrow, in +Rangoon...."</p> + +<p>Her voice died out in silence. They were quite alone, there in the bow, +lifted, so it seemed, into a realm of blue starlight. Her face swam in +the shadow, very close to his own. He obeyed an impulse. He took her in +his arms; kissed her. Her eyes were closed, but an instant later the +lids lifted. What he saw was not rebuke, but surprise, astonishment. +Vaguely, from that other world, came the strains of music. It seemed an +endless period before she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I—I have this dance...."</p> + +<p>She turned; paused, as if to speak; disappeared behind the coil of rope.</p> + +<p>Trent did not stir for some time. Then it was to draw out his pipe. He +lighted it calmly; inhaled the smoke. For at least a half hour he stood +there, the wind in his face, smoking steadily. When he left the bow and +moved aft to walk, to accelerate his brain, a figure emerged from the +door of the smoking-room and joined him. A figure that limped, that fell +in with Trent.</p> + +<p>"I have been looking for you," the Mongol announced.</p> + +<p>Trent smiled an amiable contradiction of his real feelings.</p> + +<p>"Shall we sit down?" He halted.</p> + +<p>"No. I merely wish a moment of your time to explain my actions of last +night, and to ask a question."</p> + +<p>The orchestra was playing, and the music came as a bitter-sweet reminder +to Trent.</p> + +<p>"Well?" and the word was almost abrupt.</p> + +<p>"I presume you think me very inquisitive"—Hsien Sgam's eyes were upon +him, watching him closely—"and I have been. But I had a purpose. I +wished to sound you, as they say in America; to find out if your +business connections were permanent, and—well, other things, too."</p> + +<p>Silence followed.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," the Mongol resumed, "I were to say that plans for such +a—you recall what we discussed the other evening? Well, suppose I were +to say I spoke the truth: that there is a possibility of my dream +crystallizing into reality; also that we need men who have had military +experience, who can command. Soldiers of fortune, as it were, to cast +their lots with a worthy cause...."</p> + +<p>Trent's eyes evenly met his. He smiled, very slightly.</p> + +<p>"Are you—making an offer?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Another silence. Then Hsien Sgam laughed.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am; perhaps I am not. But if you are interested, go to the +House of the Golden Joss, in Rangoon, to-morrow night. I will be there."</p> + +<p>And with that he limped off and vanished in the door of the +smoking-room.</p> + +<p>Trent stared after him. Presently he laughed, without humor.</p> + +<p>Of a certainty, he told himself, there was madness in the night.</p> + + +<h3>9</h3> + +<p>The <i>Manchester</i> swung into the Rangoon River some twenty hours late. +Trent, who had risen early, saw the dome of the Shwe Dagon in the dawn, +like a rippling flame against the purple haze. Before the ship dropped +anchor, he sought the captain.</p> + +<p>"I've decided not to press charges against the fellow confined below," +he announced. "Let him go—but not until a half hour after we come to +anchor."</p> + +<p>The captain, his eyes following Trent's receding shoulders, reflected +that he'd see the blighter in blazing hades before he'd let him off so +easily. But, not being clairvoyant, he could not know that Trent had a +few minutes before issued certain specific instructions to Tambusami.</p> + +<p>Later, after Trent had concluded with the tiresome customs details, he +saw Dana Charteris. She was preparing to go ashore. She wore the black +hat with the sheaf of cornflowers and wheat about the crown, and her +face, shadowed by the wide brim, had the pallor of ivory.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I ought to say something," he began, halting in front of her, +"but I don't know whether I want to ask your forgiveness for what +occurred last night."</p> + +<p>It was a strained moment, for both were painfully conscious. She averted +her face.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she suggested, "it would be better to say—nothing."</p> + +<p>Then she looked at him; smiled; extended her hand.</p> + +<p>Not until she was gone, a creature of white and russet-gold in the +sunshine, did he remember that he did not know her address. This +realization brought a new and enveloping sense of isolation.... +Interlude! And this was the end—<i>andante dolento</i>!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE VERMILION ROOM</h3> + + +<p>Sunset, like the wings of a giant golden moth, quivered in the sky and +beat gently against the city, stirring from the earth a film of dust +that, illuminated by the lingering glow, hung in the air like yellow +pollen. Gold was the sovereign tone of every quarter. In the Shwe Dagon +numerous Buddhas smiled at the vain splendor of goldleaf and +gold-fretted spires; Victoria Lake, on whose banks social Rangoon had +gathered to cool after a stifling day, lay like a gold-chased platter; +along the riverfront, dull brown water, shot with glinting ripples, +swirled and eddied beneath quayside godowns, and in the adjacent bazaars +a concourse of native life moved against a background of gold-lettered +signs and gilt-painted shops.</p> + +<p>This golden dust-haze enveloped the bungalow in Prome Road where Dana +Charteris was packing a suitcase; floated through the window of a house +near the waterfront where Hsien Sgam sat talking to another Oriental; +irradiated the interior of the tramcar that carried Tambusami toward the +commercial town; and glowed in a luminous cloud about a veranda of the +Strand Hotel where Trent, lounging in a wicker chair, engaged in an +occupation that might have cast some slight reflection upon the morale +of the British Army.</p> + +<p>Immediately after reaching the hotel from the steamer he had inquired +about the train schedule, and was informed that to make the best +connection at Mandalay for Myitkyina he should leave Rangoon on the noon +train, reaching Mandalay at nightfall. From there, he was told, +Myitkyina was a matter of twenty-four hours. Trent decided to remain in +Rangoon until the next day; for he intended to explore the mysteries of +the House of the Golden Joss. Having settled the time for his departure, +he gave himself over to an inspection of the city. After tiffin he +visited the bazaars, purchased a small leather-bound volume by Shway Yoë +at a shop in Merchant Street, and now sat on the veranda of the Strand, +waiting for Tambusami, whom he had not seen since he came ashore.</p> + +<p>It was growing too dark to read, and he slipped the book into a pocket +of his silk suit, transferring his attention to the variety of +head-dresses that passed in the roadway. Pith helmets, felt Bangkok +hats, Chinese skull-caps, loosely-knotted Burmese scarfs, and turbans of +all sizes.... Darkness fell and street-lamps glowed into being before he +abandoned his watch and went to dinner.</p> + +<p>After the meal he returned to the veranda—and met a smiling, +bespectacled Tambusami in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"<i>Burra salaam</i>, O Presence!" was the native's greeting. "Was the +Presence beginning to believe I had been swallowed up by this strange +city?"</p> + +<p>Trent drew him into one corner and sat down.</p> + +<p>"Well?"—as he lighted his pipe.</p> + +<p>Tambusami, after a wary look about him, made a gesture.</p> + +<p>"I did as you directed, Presence," he began. "I waited until that filthy +Mohammedan louse left the ship, and followed. Louse indeed, for he went +to a place of stinks that would poison other than vermin! Fish and +onions, Presence! He put such corruption into his belly! From there he +walked about several streets that are as filthy as that stink-hole of a +restaurant, then took a tramcar. He sat in front, I in the rear.</p> + +<p>"At the pagoda, the great pagoda"—meaning, Trent knew, the Shwe +Dagon—"he got off and defiled it with his presence. He went up to the +top, where there is a great bell, Presence, and many images of the Lord +Gaudama. Even the dogs in the stalls snarled at him! After he had +tainted the upper platform with his presence, he returned to the bazaars +below. There at the foot of the steps he waited, while I hid in the +shadows above. Finally the one for whom he waited came—a Memsahib."</p> + +<p>Trent's lips pressed into a thin line.</p> + +<p>"A Memsahib," Tambusami went on. "She wore a veil and I could not see +her face. She was dressed in white."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice the color of her hair?" Trent cut in.</p> + +<p>"No, Presence; the veil was heavy. But I saw a bracelet—oh, a very +beautiful bracelet! It was gold and had a cobra upon it—a king-cobra, +with hood lifted!"</p> + +<p>If this announcement was startling to Trent, he succeeded quite well in +hiding it. He smoked on in silence.</p> + +<p>"I could not hear what they said," continued the native. "They left +almost immediately. She had a gharry waiting in the road. I did not +follow long. Am I a dog that I should run behind until my tongue drips +and I drop dead of heat? When they disappeared, I got on a tramcar. Now +I am here!"</p> + +<p>Trent looked at him closely. "You heard the Memsahib's voice?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Presence, but not—"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't familiar?"</p> + +<p>"Nay!"</p> + +<p>Trent's fingers drummed on the arm of his chair.</p> + +<p>"You should have followed," was his comment, after a moment. "Since you +didn't, the only thing for you to do is to return to the restaurant. He +may go back to-night."</p> + +<p>Tambusami ceased smiling. "That stink-hole of fish and onions!" he +exclaimed indignantly; then: "Very well—I am a faithful servant of the +Presence!"</p> + +<p>Whereupon he salaamed and departed, quickly losing himself among the +many turbans in the street.</p> + +<p>Trent continued to drum on the arm of his chair. The woman of the +cobra-bracelet! And in Rangoon! That meant she was a passenger on the +<i>Manchester</i>. But no, not necessarily. Damn the illusiveness of her! Who +was she, anyway? Sarojini Nanjee? In that event it was likely Tambusami +would have recognized her. Perhaps he did, was his next and +disconcerting thought; perhaps the affair on shipboard was a hoax, a +foil for something deeper; perhaps Tambusami knew this and his story of +the meeting at the pagoda was false. It was queer, he admitted, that +Tambusami didn't hear anything that passed between the two.... But at +least, he told himself, he was free of his perpetual shadow for several +hours; he had not despatched Tambusami to the restaurant because he +believed Guru Singh would return (if he had ever been there), but +because he did not wish his own actions under surveillance that evening.</p> + +<p>Still puzzling over Tambusami's report, he left the hotel. An +involuntary glance behind showed him no familiar face, and he hailed a +cab. (When the temperature is at ninety degrees one does not walk for +pleasure.) The <i>gharry-wallah</i> knew no English—which was not +unusual—and to make himself understood Trent had to solicit the aid of +a Sikh policeman.</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam was the pivot of his thoughts as he rolled northward along +Strand Road. His interest in the invited interview was almost wholly +personal, for he felt that the Mongol's "revolution" was more a matter +of vain dreaming than reality. Such a movement, unless backed by some +power, could hardly be regarded as formidable. Yet the rebellion in +South China in nineteen-eleven, which brought about the presidency of +Yuan Shih-Kai, must have seemed puny in its first stages. Although +insurrection in Mongolia against China would scarcely affect the +interests of his Government, it was at least worthy of investigation. +There was, as always, the possibility of infection—for the smell of +powder, especially in Eastern lands, is dangerous. It might spread into +Szechuan and Yunnan (there were already ugly symptoms along the banks of +Mother Yangtze) or into Tibet, thus bringing it to the back door of +Burma. And that "back door," he knew, was no small consideration. Since +the occupation of Hkamti Long, the Kachin tribes of the Burmese +hinterland needed but slight pretext to inaugurate trouble. True, they +could be easily put down—"easily," he reflected grimly, meaning troops; +death for hundreds in fever-haunted swamps and in jungles where lurked +innumerable dangers. That was "black" country, up there between India, +Tibet and China; wild people in a wild setting—dwarf Nungs, Black Marus +and Lisus. Yes, they could be quelled, these primitive people, for a +price. All of which, he concluded, was pure romancing.</p> + +<p>He was in a street that ran parallel with the river, a highway where +Burmans, Chinese, Hindus, Madrasees, Tamils, Cingaleese and +Chittagonians mingled in a colorful, reeking democracy unknown to +caste-bound Indian cities. On one side, beyond quays and warehouses, was +the river, its dim expanse flecked with lamps on sampans, junks and +lighters, here and there the white silhouette of an ocean-going vessel +blotting the gloom; on the other, groups of colors that, like parrots, +would seem gaudy and flamboyant in other than their natural setting +shifted upon a background of low, swarth buildings and shops decorated +with imitation lacquer and goldleaf.</p> + +<p>Here was Burma, sleepy gilded Burma, with its quaint kyoungs and +pagodas, its air of vain decay. A siren of the East whose charms are +fast being supplanted by the craft of her less attractive, but more +industrious, sisters. They laughed and smoked, these light-hearted +Burmans, while Chinos and Hindus moved with stealthy intent among +them—grim, silent fellows, as quick in commerce as the Burmans are lazy +and indolent. This was not the quiet of India or China, a boding hush, +but an atmosphere of somnolence and perfect content.</p> + +<p>Thus Trent was musing when he came at length to the House of the Golden +Joss. It was a yellow brick building in a flagged enclosure, its +upcurling eaves and series of roofs, to Trent, strikingly like the +fantastic headgear of a lemon-faced mandarin who looked out with +satisfaction upon the marine highway by which the merchandise of his +sons floated into port. Curious eyes followed the Englishman as he paid +the <i>gharry-wallah</i> and moved up the low stair to the entrance. There, +after a pause, he passed between twin stone dragons; passed from the +twentieth century, so it seemed, into a perished dynasty.</p> + +<p>He found himself in a vast court where the smoke from joss-sticks hung +in clearly defined layers upon the atmosphere. The walls were lacquered +with red and gold; and black-enameled pillars, inscribed with +ideographs, were joined to the beams by filagree dragons. Orange-colored +scrolls, red and gold paper-prayers and blue pottery reflected bizarre +splashes upon glazed floors. The draperies were crimson; great red +lanterns, hanging from the ceiling like captive moons, added to the +scarlet effect. Worshippers of all races and colors knelt before the +altar and numerous small shrines, and the murmur of many voices in twice +as many tongues hummed in the great red temple.</p> + +<p>Trent's interest was instantly claimed by the blue pottery—tall vases, +thin of neck and bellying out as they curved toward rounded bases and +black pedestals. Red walls reflected upon their shiny surfaces. These +vases were relics of China's Imperialists, Trent knew, brought from +Honan or Chili—and his collector's soul flamed. Nor did he fail to +observe the porcelain dragons or the intricate filigree work that +adorned the beams. From these treasures he tore himself and gave his +attention to the people. Mongoloid features, Aryan and Malay. No +familiar face among them.</p> + +<p>He pursued a corridor that led from the main court and completely +circled the building—a dim passageway with many curtained recesses off +from it. At one corner was a restaurant. He could imagine from the +smells the sort of food served within, and he hurried on, returning to +the temple where incense banished the less enticing odors.</p> + +<p>At a light touch on his arm he turned. A gray-clad priest stood at his +side—an emaciated Buddhist.</p> + +<p>"Your name is Tavernake, <i>thakin</i>?" he asked in English; then, as Trent +nodded, added: "Come with me."</p> + +<p>Trent was led back along the dim corridor, past the restaurant with its +pungent smells, to a curtained room in the rear. It was evidently a +bedroom, for there was the customary <i>charpoy</i>, or bed. Its walls were +vermilion; vermilion portières hung in the doorway, and a heavy +vermilion curtain defied any air to enter through the one window. It was +close, stifling. The lantern swinging from the ceiling seemed a fiery +ball that radiated heat.</p> + +<p>"His Excellency Hsien Sgam will be here presently," announced the monk; +and Trent did not fail to notice the title. "He begs you to accept the +humble comforts of our hospitality until he arrives."</p> + +<p>Trent's eyes followed the priest. As the vermilion portières fell +together behind him, rippling gently, like red heat-waves, the last +draught of air seemed banished; the room became oppressive, as though +the lid of hades had been shut, and the odors from the nearby restaurant +did not improve the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>Trent dropped on the edge of the <i>charpoy</i>, fanning himself with his hat +and inspecting the room with mild curiosity. He leaned over and drew +aside the window-curtain. A warm current of air breathed upon his face. +Beyond the rectangle was darkness—the back of the flagged enclosure, he +surmised. A faint drone of voices was borne through the +quiet—worshippers in the temple-court. Footsteps padded softly in the +corridor; drew nearer; passed.... Five minutes....</p> + +<p>Why the devil was Hsien Sgam keeping him waiting, and in this infernally +hot room, he wondered?</p> + +<p>Growing impatient, he rose and paced the floor, not ceasing to fan +himself. Sweat streamed into his eyes, rolled down his body and +moistened his undergarments. His scalp burned and needled with heat. +After a moment he resumed his seat, staring at the motionless vermilion +portières. Still the hum of voices from the temple; it went on with +maddening persistence.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he thought, as he mopped his face. "Such heat!"</p> + +<p>He glanced at his wrist-watch. He had been waiting ten minutes. Confound +Hsien Sgam and his revolution!</p> + +<p>Suddenly his eyes were invaded by an alert gleam. That was the only +change in his expression. He let his gaze rove about the room and +continued the restless fanning. But there was something in his attitude, +in the poise of his head, that likened him to a stag suddenly aware of +an alien presence.</p> + +<p>He had seen the vermilion portières move—very slightly.</p> + +<p>Casually, he lowered his eyes to the bottom of the curtain. Two inches +of gloom separated the hem from the floor, but that was sufficient to +show him the toes of a pair of shoes. As he looked, they drew back—but +not too far for him to still see them.</p> + +<p>He continued to fan himself. Perspiration ran into his eyes and stung +them, and he wiped away the moisture with a damp handkerchief. The heat +seemed to press down, like a burning cushion, and quench his breath.</p> + +<p>The pair of shoes moved closer. Another ripple of the curtains. Then, +above the murmur from the temple, he heard a sound in the corridor—a +<i>thwack</i>. Came a quick gasp, a low, sobbing intake of breath.</p> + +<p>Trent got to his feet, swiftly. As he stood erect, the portières parted +suddenly and a body slued into the room. It swung about drunkenly; went +to its knees; stretched upon the floor. A revolver clattered beside it. +Trent barely had time to see that the body was that of a gray-robed +man—a priest, who had fallen face downward and lay still, with an ugly +blotch between his shoulders—before another figure slipped through the +division of the curtains and thrust forward the muzzle of a revolver.</p> + +<p>Trent halted. A flicker of recollection crossed his brain. The man who +stood outlined against the vermilion hangings was a native clad in dirty +garments; his turban was soiled, his feet bare. As Trent saw the scar +running across one cheek and the drooping eyelid, he recognized the +snake-charmer who crossed the Bay in the steerage of the <i>Manchester</i>.</p> + +<p>The fellow grinned impudently, and the expression was reminiscent of +another smile.</p> + +<p>"Turn about!" he ordered softly, in English—excellent English for a +street juggler, as Trent did not fail to notice. "Don't say a word; +don't make a sound!"</p> + +<p>Trent's eyes dropped to the body; lifted questioningly.</p> + +<p>Again the snake-charmer grinned—that impudent, strangely reminiscent +expression.</p> + +<p>"Never mind that now!" he said, and his voice, too, slow and quiet, +seemed vaguely familiar. "If you want to get out of this place whole, do +as I say!"</p> + +<p>Trent turned, facing the window. (And the native did not see the smile +that traced itself upon his face.) Instantly the Englishman felt a +pressure between his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Now, drop out of the window!" came the whispered command from behind.</p> + +<p>Trent moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside. As he swung over +the sill he caught a glimpse of the juggler's grinning face. The sash +was not more than four feet from the ground, and he discovered that he +was behind the joss-house, in the shadow of a lofty wall. Above were +stars; at one side, further along the wall, a gateway where the glow +from a lighted street fell within.</p> + +<p>"Walk to the gate," was the native's quiet order, as he lowered himself +from the window. "Hail a carriage and get in. I'll be directly behind +you. Don't look around or say a word; if you do...."</p> + +<p>Trent obeyed. He moved slowly, almost carelessly, through the gate and +into the street, where a thin stream of Burmans and Chinese flowed +toward the joss-house.</p> + +<p>It was half a square before he saw a cab; then, in a matter-of-fact way, +he motioned to the <i>wallah</i>. As the gharry drew up, the slow, familiar +voice at his side spoke to the driver—in Burmese, Trent imagined.</p> + +<p>The Englishman stepped into the conveyance, showing no surprise when the +juggler got in and sank upon the seat beside him. Nor did he look in the +least amazed, as he should have done, when the native's drooping eyelid +lifted and winked at him in an outrageously familiar manner. He only +smiled—a smile that grew as he commented:</p> + +<p>"You're a downy bird, Kerth."</p> + +<p>Which was not indiscreet, for one may safely assume, in Rangoon, that +his <i>gharry-wallah</i> cannot understand him when he speaks English.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>"I've instructed the <i>wallah</i> to drive to your hotel by a longer route," +Euan Kerth drawled, and Trent wondered how he was ever baffled by such a +simple make-up; it was the drooping eyelid, he decided, and the absence +of the waxed mustache.</p> + +<p>"I want time to talk," Kerth explained. "Also, I'll take this +opportunity to return a piece of your property."</p> + +<p>One slender hand emerged from under his clothing and extended an object +that gleamed softly in the semi-dark, an object that caused the blood to +leap into Trent's temples and throb there for a moment of sheer +excitement.</p> + +<p>For it was the silver-chased piece of coral that had twice been stolen +from him.</p> + +<p>"Too, I want to tell you," Kerth went on, "that your pretty cobra friend +lied to you."</p> + +<p>"Sarojini?"</p> + +<p>Kerth nodded. "Most gloriously," he emphasized. "Look inside the +locket—or whatever it is—and you'll see."</p> + +<p>Again Trent felt the blood in his temples. But his hand was calm as he +pressed a fingernail under the rim and opened the pendant. He bent low; +peered intently. He made no exclamation as he saw the name that was +engraved within—but his breathing quickened. He snapped the oval shut +and sat with it gripped in his hand. The blood was still beating in his +temples.</p> + +<p>"As I told you," resumed Kerth, "<i>Gilbert Leroux</i>, the name that's +written there, was Chavigny's last alias. Therefore, when Sarojini said +he had nothing to do with the Order, she lied. And if she lied once, +she's likely to do it again. Fact is, I don't trust her. I have a reason +to believe she isn't playing the game just right."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Trent encouraged, while the name in the pendant sang itself in +his ears with the roll of the carriage wheels.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to be rather personal," was the slow statement; +"embarrassingly so, I fear. Nevertheless, it's better that you know I +know. Before I left Benares I sent a telegram to a friend, the +Commissioner at Jehelumpore—you see, I knew you were stationed there at +one time—asking if he knew whether—whether you and Sarojini +Nanjee—well—"</p> + +<p>He paused. Trent, smiling to himself, said: "Go on."</p> + +<p>"When I reached Calcutta I received a letter from him by special post," +Kerth continued. "He told me the whole story.... That's all. And for +that reason—and because she lied about Chavigny—I believe you should +be wary of her. Balked affection is an unruly mount to straddle, and +when a woman plans to make a fool of a man because he doesn't pay her +any attention, and the man by his wits turns the affair so that <i>she</i> is +the fool—well, I'll say only that she's likely to cause trouble, +especially if she has a Rajput strain in her blood."</p> + +<p>Quiet followed. They rolled on toward the hotel. Trent was the first to +speak.</p> + +<p>"Just how did you do this?"—with a gesture that conveyed more than the +speech.</p> + +<p>In the semi-dark, unobserved, Kerth smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was easy enough," he drawled. "I determined to have a look at +the instructions you received at Sarojini Nanjee's house, there in +Benares. I didn't quite fancy the way she gave in to your request to +take me along. When we returned to the hotel, I left you for a few +minutes, if you recall. During that time I filled an envelope with blank +paper, then went to your room and while we were talking, under the +pretense of getting a match from your tunic, I exchanged envelopes."</p> + +<p>"And you returned it that night?" Trent put in, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was your nocturnal visitor. I left on an express for Calcutta +that night. When I got there I haunted the environs of the old +mandarin's establishment. The night you called I hid in the court—back +of the house and just behind the room where you two were talking.... Oh, +it was easy enough," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"What about this?" Trent inquired, indicating the pendant.</p> + +<p>"I intended to take a look through your cabin, on general principles, +the first night out—and I happened along just as your servant and that +other fellow staged their shindy outside your state-room. When you went +on deck, I seized the opportunity. I found the pendant under the pillow +and took it because I wanted to study the design—and—well, for other +reasons, too. I didn't discover the Chavigny alias until later."</p> + +<p>"I had the captain search the steerage passengers for it," Trent said.</p> + +<p>Kerth laughed. "I know you did—and I caused an inoffensive, fangless +cobra to go to his Nirvana by hiding the thing in his gullet. I would +have spoken to you on shipboard, but I was afraid of hidden eyes."</p> + +<p>That explained the theft of the pendant on the <i>Manchester</i> (thus Trent +to himself), but who took it the first time, in Benares? Kerth was +evidently ignorant of that. Guru Singh was the key to the riddle, and he +silently cursed himself for having released him.</p> + +<p>"What did you learn about the design?" he pressed on.</p> + +<p>"A little," Kerth returned carelessly. "I spent this afternoon at the +Bernard Library looking up all sorts of deities. The one on the piece of +coral is Janesseron, the Three-eyed God of Thunder—a <i>Tibetan</i> god." +Then, after a pause: "There may be some significance in the fact that +the symbol of the Order is a Tibetan deity, and then, there may not. +I've formed a theory, and unless I'm greatly mistaken, you and I have a +neat little sprint before we reach the so-called City of the Falcon. And +if this city is where I believe it is, why, we.... But I'm anticipating. +Anyway, I haven't the time to pawn off my theories upon you. I simply +wished to let you know I wasn't in Bombay, and to return the piece of +coral."</p> + +<p>Another pause before he ventured:</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're not at liberty to tell me how you came into possession +of that?"—with a motion of his slim hand toward the pendant.</p> + +<p>Trent considered, then replied, "Why, yes." And he told of finding +Manlove in the ruined temple at Gaya. When he had finished, Kerth +whistled softly.</p> + +<p>"So!" he commented. "Chavigny at Gaya—but wait! When did I track him to +the native <i>serai</i> in Delhi?" He was silent for a moment. "It was +Friday," he resumed, "no, Saturday—I remember now. And what day was +Captain Manlove murdered?... Monday—the twentieth? You see, then, that +Chavigny would have had time to reach Gaya; but how in flaming Tophet +did he get out of Delhi? You remember I told you I found blood-stains in +his room at the <i>serai</i>.... Hmm. This is a complication. D'ye suppose +Chavigny made a mistake—thought Manlove you? Yet why the deuce should +he want to put you out of the way?"</p> + +<p>A lengthy space of silence followed. Kerth took up the conversation.</p> + +<p>"I haven't the slightest idea why you went to that joss-house to-night; +however, I'm glad I followed and"—he smiled—"saved one of the eyes of +the empire."</p> + +<p>"And I'm rather glad you followed, too"—this from Trent drily. "I +sha'n't forget. I went there to meet a...." Followed a short description +of Hsien Sgam, the Mongol, and an explanation of Trent's purpose at the +House of the Golden Joss. Again, as he finished, Kerth whistled.</p> + +<p>"Complication upon complication! D 'ye suppose he's one of the Order? I +remember seeing him on the boat. What's his object in attempting to +murder you? It's obvious that that was his purpose."</p> + +<p>"I can't somehow adjust him with the Order," returned Trent. "He seems +above that. He's capable of villainy all right—rather exquisite +villainy, I imagine—but I can't associate him with thievery and stolen +jewels.... Did you see the face of the fellow who tried to kill me?"</p> + +<p>Kerth nodded. "It was the priest who took you to that room. Oh, he was +shrewd—or rather, the one who directed him! He had a maxim silencer on +the revolver; and if I had been two seconds later, you would have had a +steel morsel lodged somewhere between your chest and stomach. I didn't +dare waste time to explain there; I was afraid there might be others, +and two white men in a heathen prayer-house would have as much chance as +a pair of bats in hades!" Kerth glanced ahead. "We'll be at your hotel +in a few minutes," he announced, "and your shadow might be there, so I +think I'll make my exit now. I'm leaving Rangoon to-morrow noon, as I +daresay you are, too. I'll manage somehow to see you at Myitkyina."</p> + +<p>He thrust one foot out of the gharry, upon the step, and stood there a +moment, the reflection from passing lamps upon his stained features. He +was smiling his satanic smile—a rather impudent, careless expression.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall pay another visit to the House of the Golden Joss," he +said. "What you have told me of this Hsien Sgam interests me in him. +Good luck, major!"</p> + +<p>With a wave of his hand he swung down and disappeared in the street.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>When Trent reached the hotel he found Tambusami waiting, with no news of +Guru Singh, and the Englishman dismissed the native and went to his +room.</p> + +<p>As he undressed, the coral pendant lay upon the table before his eyes +and he stared at it fascinatedly—stared until the coral blended in with +the silver and met his gaze like a monstrous blood-shot orb.... It was +hard to believe that Chavigny was at Gaya, that it was the Frenchman who +murdered Manlove. Chavigny—Gilbert Leroux. What reason had he to kill +Manlove, unless, as he theorized before, the guilty one had been +discovered at the bungalow by his victim and in the ensuing struggle the +latter was stabbed? Or, as Kerth suggested, he might have mistaken +Manlove for Trent, although he could think of no reason why Chavigny +should desire his death. And there was Chatterjee—Chatterjee, who died +with his secrets.... Chavigny at Gaya! It was incredible. Of course the +piece of coral might have been left as false evidence, a blind. But who, +other than a member of the Order of the Falcon, would possess the +ornament, and would a member of that mysterious band have left the +symbol to be found by the police?</p> + +<p>Provided Chavigny was the murderer, would it not be natural for him to +take steps to recover the pendant, once he discovered its loss? Perhaps +it was he who stole it in Benares. But that did not seem likely, in the +light of Guru Singh's actions. For why should Chavigny wish to return +the oval to him? If....</p> + +<p>Then Trent had an inspiration. Was the attempt to kill him at the House +of the Golden Joss the work of Chavigny? But what of the Buddhist +priest? Chavigny might have bought him; paid him to kill Trent. To go +further, it was possible that Chavigny was on the <i>Manchester</i>. +Chavigny, an illusive personality, ever at his heels, like his own +shadow! There was something intriguing in the thought. And it was +plausible—plausible, too, that Chavigny, the notorious Chavigny, was +the Falcon, the head of that nebulous order.</p> + +<p>Theories, Trent concluded—only theories. He locked the pendant in his +trunk and switched off the light.</p> + +<p>As he lay in darkness, while lizards chirruped on the floor and the +ceiling, a sense of cavernous aloneness enveloped him. It thronged with +poignant thoughts. Manlove.... It seemed an age since he stood in the +bungalow at Gaya that last morning. So much had happened since +then—much to distract. Yet always, niched away in the subconscious, was +the hurt, wearing deeper with a bruising force. Trent's nature was +sterile for the average seeds of intimate kinships, but now and +then—not more than half a dozen times in his life—one fell upon +fertile soil. There was something fresh and strong in his association +with Manlove. (An essence thrice sweet in the memory.) Their +personalities seemed to have entered into a mystic communion of +comradeship—a bond not of words nor demonstrations, but feeling. That +was why he felt so keenly the bruise of it.</p> + +<p>Gone, too, was the woman who had materialized from his world-scroll into +intimate palpability, bringing the rich gift of her presence—and +leaving the bitter-sweet pangs of her departure. He would find her +again, for she had fixed herself in the inner-penetralia of his being. +But the period of waiting!... Waiting—love's Gethsemane since the first +simian creatures battled in the wildernesses of a still-hot planet.</p> + +<p>As he lay there, reflecting upon these things, he experienced an ache, a +sensation of isolation, that was reminiscent of his boyhood—of a night +when a shadowy being of antiseptics and sick-room odors roused him from +sleep with the announcement that the man who had fathered him into +existence was no longer in the house.</p> + +<p>It dulled only when a sleepy intoxication came over him, and as he +surrendered to it he visualized, in a dim, hazy way, a falcon, and it +lay in a welter of blood.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>"BEYOND THE MOON"</h3> + + +<p>At noon the next day Trent drove to the station where Tambusami, having +attended to his luggage, was waiting. The Englishman looked for Kerth +among the travelers on the platform, but saw no one who even resembled +him. However, he reflected as the train pulled out, Kerth might have +changed his identity and passed within a foot of him without his +knowledge!</p> + +<p>When Pegu lay behind, he shifted his attention from the "Rangoon +Gazette" to the endless panorama of paddy fields and scrub jungle. Yet +he could not altogether divert himself. Invariably the landscape faded, +to be replaced by the recollection of some recent scene: the court of +the joss-house; the ride along Strand Road with Euan Kerth. But more +frequently his mind was possessed with an image of starry luster and +russet hair. The memory of Dana Charteris occurred suddenly, +unexpectedly, in the very midst of other thoughts. She seemed a central +force about which musings, retrospections and quandaries revolved. He +found himself separating from their short association certain incidents +and looking back upon them as through stained glass. He pictured her +under the black and gilt scroll in the Chinese quarter; in the dusk of +the Bengali theater; in the bow of the <i>Manchester</i>, beneath the +sprinkled flame of tropic stars. These portraits arranged themselves in +a mosaic—an exquisite inlay of romance. Romance. He clung to the word. +"The doctrine of Romance and Adventure—" She had said that "... in +mellower years, to close your eyes and dream of wandering in the 'Caves +of Kor' or the time you spent on a pirate island." She had the spirit of +youth eternal—youth with its orient mirages. He was having the Great +Adventure now. Soon it would be over. And then? Back to the old +routine—medicines and sun-scorched villages. (The thought was new, +strange. Had he ever been a doctor? It seemed so long ago!) But in the +years to come, at night, over his pipe, he could dream of it all. The +memory of things—that was life's recompense for taking them away.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Shortly after seven o'clock he arrived in Mandalay. As he left his +carriage, he saw a familiar figure—Kerth, scar, drooping eyelid and +all; saw him again, an hour and a half later, when he boarded the +Myitkyina train.</p> + +<p>A perceptible coolness invaded the carriage that night, and when Trent +awakened in the morning he looked out upon jade-green hills. The +scenery, as well as the people who stood on the railway platforms, had +changed. Great fern trees and immense clumps of bamboo grew on the +hillsides.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Evening was pouring its dusky glamour over the world, and the far, misty +ranges of the China frontier had purpled when Trent left the train at +Myitkyina, the terminus of the Burma Railway. He caught a glimpse of +Kerth hurrying away in the twilight as he despatched Tambusami to the P. +W. D. Inspection Bungalow to see if quarters were available there; and, +after numerous inquiries, took himself into the bazaar, to the shop of +Da-yak, the Tibetan.</p> + +<p>The latter proved to be a languid person with a blue <i>lungyi</i> twisted +about his hips. He inspected Trent with narrow, inky-black eyes, and led +him into a back-room that stank of the hundred nameless odors of the +bazaar. There he glanced lazily, indifferently, at the coral symbol that +the Englishman showed him.</p> + +<p>"We expected you yesterday, <i>Tajen</i>," he announced indolently, in +atrocious English; and Trent wondered who the "we" included. "I am +instructed to tell you to go to the Inspection Bungalow and wait. I will +call for you later in the evening; in an hour, perhaps."</p> + +<p>Which concluded the interview.</p> + +<p>Trent decided immediately that Da-yak, the Tibetan, was of no +consequence, merely a mouthpiece.</p> + +<p>He returned to the station, where he had arranged to meet Tambusami. +There he waited for at least fifteen minutes. The native was in a high +state of excitement when he finally arrived.</p> + +<p>"Guru Singh is here, O Presence!" he reported. "I saw him down by the +river. He was in a boat, going upstream. I cried out to him and called +him a liar and a thief, and he told me I was a bastard! The swine! He +knew well I could not get my hands on him!"</p> + +<p>"And you let him get away?" Trent demanded.</p> + +<p>"What could I do, Presence? There was a Gurkha nearby, but I knew the +Presence did not want the police to interfere with his business. Think +you I would have let him go after he called me <i>that</i>, could I have +prevented it?"</p> + +<p>Trent wasn't so sure; but he only said:</p> + +<p>"Very well. What about quarters?"</p> + +<p>"All is arranged at the bungalow, Presence."</p> + +<p>Thinking of what Tambusami had told him, Trent left the station, the +native at his heels. He wondered. Did Guru Singh's presence mean that +the woman of the cobra-bracelet was in Myitkyina?</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>Just about the time Trent reached the P. W. D. Bungalow, a +street-juggler with a scar across one cheek and a drooping eyelid made +his way through the main road of the bazaar. His good eye was very +active—as was the other, for that matter, although less visible to +passers-by—and he swung along with his head cocked at a rakish angle, +pack slung over his shoulder, flashing smiles at the copper-skinned +Kachin and Maru girls.</p> + +<p>Singling out a shop where boiled frogs, sweetmeats and confectionery +were displayed to the mercy of insects, he approached, and, after +purchasing a delectable morsel cooked in <i>ghee</i> (which he deposited in +his pocket instead of his stomach), he announced to the spare Burman who +lounged in the doorway:</p> + +<p>"I go to Bhamo to-morrow, O vender of sweets, and I must take my brother +a present. Canst thou suggest what it shall be?" Then, before the other +could answer, he went on: "I might buy an umbrella—or, better still, a +turban-cloth."</p> + +<p>The Burman came out of his lassitude enough to say that he sold very +beautiful turban-cloth, and much cheaper than any other merchant in the +bazaar.</p> + +<p>"I want a nice one," he of the drooping eyelid asserted; "a white one, +spotted like a cheetah, or perhaps yellow."</p> + +<p>The shopkeeper had none such as he described, he said, but he had some +fine cloth of red hue that came from a shop in Sule Pagoda Street, in +distant Rangoon.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the juggler. "I have been to Rangoon. It is a great +city. Let me see the cloth of red."</p> + +<p>In the course of bargaining, he said:</p> + +<p>"Tell me, O wise one, is there in the bazaar a merchant who bears the +name of Da-yak?"</p> + +<p>The Burman grunted that there was and waved his hand toward a lighted +doorway not far away. "There!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the juggler again. And he added, by way of explanation, +that at Waingmaw, whence he had come, a friend warned him against buying +at the shop of Da-yak, who was a cheat.</p> + +<p>"All Tibetans are cheats," was the Burman's comment.</p> + +<p>"Has he been here long, robbing you of your trade?" the juggler pursued.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not very long," was the languid answer; "since about the time of +the casting of the bell in the pagoda last year. But his shop is not +half so nice as mine. He is a dirty wild-man." Then: "Didst thou say, O +traveller, that thou wouldst take the turban cloth for six rupees and +two annas?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I am a poor man. For five rupees, O generous one."</p> + +<p>At length the turban-cloth was purchased, for five rupees, and the +juggler moved on. In front of the shop of Da-yak he paused, looked about +tentatively, then strode to a spot just outside the door. There he +unslung his pack. From a basket he produced a brass pot with a thin +neck. Squatting, back to the wall, he brought forth a flute and began to +play.</p> + +<p>At first the music attracted only children. But before many minutes +girls and men joined the circle about the juggler, and, as the group +enlarged, a sinuous black body rose from the brass pot; rose and dropped +back, like a geyser; rose again and slithered to the ground where it +curled its tail into an O, and, with head lifted, lolled to the +delirious piping.</p> + +<p>"A-ie!" sighed the onlookers with approval—and drew back a step.</p> + +<p>Presently a head was thrust out of the doorway of Da-yak's shop—as the +juggler did not fail to observe—and, following the head, its owner. He +squatted and indifferently watched the proceedings.</p> + +<p>After the cobra had danced, the juggler performed many feats of magic, +to the delight of the simple hill-people. When his repertory was +exhausted, the audience moved on and he found himself alone with the +squatting Tibetan merchant.</p> + +<p>"I am a stranger here, O brother," announced the juggler, pouring the +coins from his bowl into his hands and shifting them from one palm to +the other with a musical <i>clink-clink</i>. "Canst thou tell me where I will +find a bed for to-night?"</p> + +<p>In the dim light the juggler studied Da-yak's features—thin lips, high, +thin cheeks, and mere slits for eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thou canst find a bed of grass under any tree," was his reply, covertly +watching the coins.</p> + +<p>"Nay! Am I an animal that I should lie upon the ground when I sleep? +Hast thou no room? I am a story-teller and for a bed I will tell thee a +tale that thou hast never heard before!"</p> + +<p>"Nay, juggler, I have no time for stories."</p> + +<p>"Then thy children?"</p> + +<p>"I have none."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps thy wife?"</p> + +<p>"Nor have I a wife, either."</p> + +<p>The juggler grunted. "Art thou a celibate that thou hast no wife?" He +leaned closer, peering into the Tibetan's face. "Indeed, O merchant, thy +face is like that of a lama I knew in Simla!"</p> + +<p>Da-yak's slitty little eyes opened wider, showing small, bleary pupils.</p> + +<p>"What is it to thee, O scarred one, if I have a wife or not?"</p> + +<p>To himself the juggler admitted that it meant more than a little, but +to the Tibetan he said: "Scarred indeed, and afflicted of an eye! Seest +thou this?"—touching the scar. "It is a mark left by a Dugpa's +knife—in Tibet. I was headman for a Burra Sahib who traveled from +Sikkhim, which is a far country which thou hast never heard of, to the +holy city of Lhassa. From thence we went down, across many mountains, +into Hkamti Long and the Kachin country. At Fort Hertz we followed the +mule-road. That was many years ago."</p> + +<p>"Thou dost lie," accused Da-yak. "No white man has ever crossed from +Tibet into the country of the Hkamtis. There is no road there—"</p> + +<p>"Then where <i>is</i> the road, indeed, if thou dost know?" interrupted the +juggler.</p> + +<p>"Did I say there was a road?" flared the Tibetan. "There is none."</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> a road, if a road it can be called! For did not I travel it? +By the Four Truths of Gaudama Siddartha, it is thou who dost lie!"</p> + +<p>Da-yak's eyes burned with anger. "Why dost thou swear by the Lord +Gaudama?"</p> + +<p>Inwardly, the juggler smiled. "Why do rivers run down to the sea, thou +dolt?" he asked—and made a mystic sign, a sign that is known to few.</p> + +<p>Da-yak's eyes were no longer burning. But his inky-black pupils moved +nervously under the lids.</p> + +<p>"Thou dost make strange signs, O evil eye," he muttered. "How do I know +that thou hast not summoned <i>Nats</i> to beset my shop and drive away those +who might buy?" He rose. "Go find a bed in the stink where thou dost +belong!"</p> + +<p>The juggler, too, rose. He spat contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kala Nag!</i>" he hissed; which means, "black snake."</p> + +<p>And, picking up his pack, he swaggered off—while Da-yak, with an uneasy +glance over his shoulder, entered his shop. However, the juggler did not +go far. In the darkness of a nearby alley, from which point he could +observe anyone going in or out of Da-yak's house, he sat down to wait. +But not for long. Scarcely had five minutes passed before the Tibetan +emerged from the shop and, like a shadowy cinema-figure, hurried off in +the gloom.</p> + +<p>The juggler got up. He smiled—for, figuratively speaking, he possessed +a key to certain locked doors.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>Trent was on the veranda, smoking, when Da-yak presented himself at the +Inspection Bungalow, and without a word he rose and accompanied the +Tibetan.</p> + +<p>"We go to the river, <i>Tajen</i>," the native informed him briefly.</p> + +<p>A walk past lighted bungalows and well-kept compounds brought them to +the river—the mighty Irrawaddi, flowing down from mountain heights, +past dead kingdoms and into tropical seas. A slim saber of a moon was +swinging up over the hills as they came within sight of the stream. It +showered the water with a wealth of silver coins that collected into a +band, and, shimmering and coruscating, stretched from the remote shore +to the sharply etched Kachin rafts and country-boats beneath the +Myitkyina bank.</p> + +<p>Into one of the smaller boats Da-yak led Trent. Two boatmen, both in +turban, jacket and <i>lungyi</i>, stepped lazily into the craft, and one +shoved off while the other crawled forward and plied his paddle, guiding +the boat into midstream and turning its prow with the current. The smell +of the jungle, warm, fragrant odors, hung in the air, and the rhythmic +dip of the paddle, with the sucking sounds produced by the water as it +slapped the sides, only italicized the silence.</p> + +<p>Trent, lounging among cushions amidships, let his eyes follow Da-yak, +who moved forward and took the paddle from the boatman. The latter, with +a murmured word, rose and crawled toward Trent.</p> + +<p>"I would sit beside you, Sahib," he announced in a soft voice.</p> + +<p>Trent stared—and the boatman laughed, a sweet laugh that rippled low in +the throat; laughed, and sank upon the pillows beside the man whose +breathing had grown a trifle faster as he inhaled the perfume of +sandalwood.</p> + +<p>"You are surprised?" asked Sarojini Nanjee, quite pleased with the +effect of her sudden appearance.</p> + +<p>He smiled. "You are clever."</p> + +<p>The woman clasped her hands behind her head and regarded him. The night +made secret certain of her features, for whereas the moon shone full +upon her face, softening the contours, her eyes were hid in dim mystery. +Thus, when she looked at him, (as she was doing every second) he could +not see her eyes. Which seemed to please her, for she lay back upon the +cushions, smiling, an insolently boyish figure.</p> + +<p>"Did not you find Tambusami an excellent bearer?" was her next +query—and he imagined her eyes were mocking him.</p> + +<p>"Quite"—rather drily.</p> + +<p>"Yet he cannot equal your Rawul Din," she went on. "He is a perfect +example of careful tutoring."</p> + +<p>She leaned closer, so close that the warmth of her breath was on his +lips, and her eyes, like black opals, burned near to his.</p> + +<p>"I wonder, man of wits, how many bearers would think to do what your +Rawul Din did, that night at my house?" Then she laughed and drew away; +and the musical peals were reminiscent of shattered crystals. "I +<i>should</i> be angry—for why did you spy upon me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand"—this from him.</p> + +<p>"No?"—with irony. "Am I so dull that I do not understand when I find a +pool of wine under a divan? Oh, he was clever, very clever; but I was +more clever!"</p> + +<p>Trent wondered how much she knew. He felt sure she could not have +guessed the truth, for the discovery that Delhi was keeping a finger on +her would undoubtedly have angered her.</p> + +<p>"Surely you would like to know how I came here," she announced. "Why not +inquire?"</p> + +<p>"I was instructed to ask no questions," he reminded.</p> + +<p>She nodded that queer little nod of hers.</p> + +<p>"You obey well—when you wish to. But we have no time now to talk of +the past; suffice to say I come and go like the wind, when and where I +will, and depending upon no man."</p> + +<p>She settled deeper among the cushions and watched him—watched him +half-humorously, as though he belonged to her and she was undecided what +to do with him next. He realized she was waiting for him to speak, that +she wanted to find out what he had learned since their meeting at +Benares. Therefore he resolved to keep silent, not that what he knew was +of any significance, but because uncertainty on her part was his best +weapon. So he drew into his shell and waited. When she could no longer +endure it, she said:</p> + +<p>"Now that you are here, have you no thought of what you are to do?"</p> + +<p>"There's a platitude about anticipation," was his reply. "Preconceived +ideas never are correct."</p> + +<p>"You, of course, suspected Myitkyina was not the end of your journey?"</p> + +<p>"Then it isn't?"</p> + +<p>He could not see her eyes, but he knew she was looking at him closely.</p> + +<p>"Did not his Excellency Li Kwai Kung speak of certain terraces, each a +step toward enlightenment?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Is the City of the Falcon the next?"</p> + +<p>"Ultimately," she modified.</p> + +<p>"When do I start—or do <i>we</i>?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "<i>You</i> start to-morrow." Then, following a pause: +"Previous to this you have been under my direct observation and +protection." That made him smile to himself. "I can no longer do that. +Certain threads will be placed in your hands and you will be left to +untangle them. And it will not be easy. That is why I chose you."</p> + +<p>The boatman had ceased paddling, and they drifted with the current in +silence that was like a presence. Now and then a gibbon called from the +bank; frequently fish leaped above the water, breaking the moon's path +into silver fragments.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is far from easy!" she continued. "You will pass through a +stretch of country where no Englishman has been. There will be +discomforts—yes, dangers. The jungle knows how to torment white men. +Death in a hundred guises waits for the unwary; death in the poison +swamps, in the bush; death everywhere!" She straightened up, and her +hand closed over his. "There will be times when you will curse me for +having sent you! Yet in the end there is reward! Glory! Honor! Your name +will sweep from one end of the empire to the other!" Then she drew a +sharp breath, for she divined what was in his mind. "You believe I lie? +But I speak the truth, before all the gods! Yonder"—with a wave of her +hand—"beyond the moon, it lies, this city where the Falcon nests with +the treasures of Ind!"</p> + +<p>"You mean the jewels passed through Myitkyina?" he questioned, trying to +speak casually, as though it were a spontaneous query rather than a +studied interrogation.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Did I say so?" she fenced. "Nay! I will not answer that! Perhaps +they did; perhaps they did not." (Trent was more inclined to believe the +latter.) "However, they are there, beyond the moon, and every one shall +be returned, down to the smallest pearl!"</p> + +<p>It sounded rather preposterous to him. How could this thing be +accomplished by two people? Was she playing with him? She'd hardly dare. +She might risk it, were he alone, but with the Government of India +behind him a false move on her part would be her own defeat. Yet he +could not disassociate her from some hidden, not altogether pleasant, +purpose.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" she resumed. "You and I"—and her fingers tightened about his +hand—"shall do what the Secret Service could never do! We shall go +where they could never go! We shall understand things that they could +never understand! We are blessed of the gods, you and I! We shall pluck +the Falcon's pinions; rob his nest. And, oh, it will be a great jest, a +very great jest! If you only knew, you would laugh with me! But not yet. +It would spoil the secret to tell it now."</p> + +<p>"Yet you can tell me now," he suggested, "how far this Falcon's nest +is?"</p> + +<p>She inclined her head. "Yes, I can tell you that now." And her answer +was as fantastic as the city itself: "It is nearly eight hundred miles."</p> + +<p>Inwardly, he started. A moment passed before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Nearly eight hundred miles," he repeated, picturing as accurately as +possible a map. "Traveling west of Myitkyina that would take us beyond +the Brahmaputra; east, into China—about upper Yunnan or Kweichow; and +north—well, the Tibetan <i>border</i> is three hundred miles from Myitkyina. +Which is it: north, east or west?"</p> + +<p>"Which seems the most likely? In which of the three regions would the +Falcon's nest be in less danger of discovery by blundering British +agents?"</p> + +<p>He had guessed, but he did not wish to commit himself. He deliberately +chose—</p> + +<p>"Beyond the Brahmaputra?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "You are no fool. The moment I said nearly eight hundred +miles you knew I meant Tibet."</p> + +<p>He considered for some time. Then: "That's impossible." Subconsciously, +he was thinking of the coral pendant.... Janesseron, a Tibetan god. Nor +had he forgotten what Kerth told him in Rangoon.</p> + +<p>"What is impossible?"</p> + +<p>"Tibet."</p> + +<p>She chose to smile at that. Apparently she enjoyed the astonishment that +he made no effort to conceal.</p> + +<p>"There is a way and a means for everything! Whither goes the elephant +when his time is come? Does man know?" She shrugged. "Oh, it is a +strange planet, this!"</p> + +<p>She drew something white from beneath her jacket—something that +crackled as she unfolded it and spread it upon her knees. The moonlight +showed him the faint tracery of a map.</p> + +<p>"Bend closer," she directed. "See, here is Myitkyina"—her finger rested +on a tiny dot. "Above is the confluence of the Irrawaddi. The Mali-hka +flows northeast, the 'Nmai-hka northwest. You will follow a route in the +triangular space between the two rivers, in a territory where Government +surveyors have never been. At the edge of the Duleng country you cross +the 'Nmai-hka and go eastward to a town across the Chinese border, in +Yunnan. It is called Tali-fang, and is under the administration of a +military governor, the <i>Tchentai</i>. Just beyond Tali-fang is the +Yolon-noi Pass into Tibet. And there"—she touched a blank space in +Tibet, in the northwest corner of Kham—"is the City of the Falcon. Its +name is Shingtse-lunpo."</p> + +<p>That conveyed nothing to Trent. But its situation did. In Tibet, between +the sources of the Brahmaputra and the Mekong! It was as incredible as +if she had informed him he was to go to the moon. Her figure of speech +was not amiss—"Beyond the moon." That territory was as nebulous as the +regions of the moon, as weirdly unreal. It was the country toward which +Mohut, the explorer, had striven, which Prince Henri d'Orleans had +skirted.</p> + +<p>"From Myitkyina," he heard Sarojini Nanjee saying, "to Tali-fang, you +will be guided by a Lisu; there will be porters, of course. At Tali-fang +you must call at the <i>Yamen</i> of the <i>Tchentai</i>, who will furnish fresh +mules and supplies. There you will also exchange your porters and guide +for Tibetan caravaneers. A passport is necessary to enter +Shingtse-lunpo, but that will be provided. Once inside, you will be upon +your own resources."</p> + +<p>"As whom does the Falcon know me?" he inserted.</p> + +<p>"I am coming to that. He knows you as Tavernake, the jeweler—a +childhood friend of mine. The work he expects you to do is to oversee +the cutting and resetting of the jewels—a work that you will never do. +He will no doubt see you before I do, so guard your tongue. Trust no one +unless he comes in my name and has proof."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall see you there?"</p> + +<p>A nod. "I start to-night, as I must reach Shingtse-lunpo in advance of +you. Oh, as I said, I come and go as the wind, when and where I will, +and depending upon no man! But I do not go as Sarojini Nanjee.... Just +before you reach Tali-fang—it will not be necessary until then—Masein, +your Lisu guide, will help you effect a transformation from a white man +to a Hindu merchant from Mandalay. White skins are not popular in that +region. You speak Hindustani as well as some Hindus, better than others. +Avoid the natives as much as possible, for they are not over-fond of any +one who is not of their race. If asked whither you go, say to a holy +city in Tibet."</p> + +<p>Silence settled for a moment after that. They were more than a mile from +Myitkyina, and the silver coins still glittered and danced in midstream.</p> + +<p>"D'you think," he began at length, "if the Government knew I was going +into Tibet, it would approve?"</p> + +<p>She shrugged. "Why not? It was understood at Delhi that you were to do +as I directed; go wherever I willed."</p> + +<p>"Suppose—" But he halted.</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose I am killed in Tibet?"</p> + +<p>"But you will not be."</p> + +<p>"You said there would be dangers."</p> + +<p>"Yes—but you are a resourceful man."</p> + +<p>"Frequently resourceful men are killed. Let us suppose I were murdered +in Tibet—by robbers, we'll say. It would place my Government in an +awkward position. Could Tibet explain satisfactorily; or would there be +a British expedition, resulting in death for hundreds, because of one +indiscreet Englishman?"</p> + +<p>"Is it indiscreet," she countered, "to recover the jewels?"</p> + +<p>He appeared to be considering that. Finally:</p> + +<p>"If it were made known that the gems are there, the Government could +demand action from the ruling powers of Tibet—or send an expedition."</p> + +<p>She laughed. "Do you call that logic? And answer me, impossible one, who +<i>are</i> the 'ruling powers' of Tibet, as you choose to call them? The +Dalai Lama? Or the British Raj? Answer me that! And as for the +expedition: <i>we</i> are the expedition. In this case the wits of two are +worth more than a hundred Lee-Metfords. Guile! Guile is the stronger +weapon—and it does not attract so much attention as guns!"</p> + +<p>Again silence. They were still drifting with the current. Behind, in the +moon's path, was a tiny blotch—another boat. He watched it curiously. +Seeing his inquisitive look, the woman spoke.</p> + +<p>"No doubt it is Tambusami with your luggage; I instructed him to fetch +it from the Inspection Bungalow and follow. Yonder," she explained, with +a gesture downstream, "is your camp. There you will remain until dawn. I +shall accompany you to the camp, as I have further instructions to give +your guide."</p> + +<p>Questions bred in Trent's brain and clamored for utterance, but he +pressed them back. For her to know he was anxious was the surest way to +learn nothing. Therefore he held his tongue, reflecting upon what she +had told him.</p> + +<p>He was suspicious of her promises. She was not a type to volunteer +service to a government without some personal motive. And of her motives +he was doubtful. There was a scheme of her own interrelated and under +the surface. Too, he felt that by this latest move, in having his +luggage brought from the Inspection Bungalow, she had thrown Kerth off +the trail.</p> + +<p>He extracted cigarettes from his pocket, for he felt that a smoke would +clarify his thoughts; passed the case to her. She took one with +languorous grace and bent nearer for him to light it. As the match +flared, he saw her eyes, again like black opals, close to his. But he +learned no secrets from them; they were as baffling, as crowded with +mysteries, as the black jungles ahead of him.</p> + +<p>"There is much more to be explained," she said, tilting her head and +expelling smoke from her nostrils; "certain things to be ignorant of +which would surely lead to trouble...."</p> + +<p>As they drifted on she talked, cigarette in one hand, the other resting +upon the map. Before long Da-yak plied his paddle, sending little +ripples over the stars that lay reflected like silver pebbles in the +river. The moon rode high above the hills, a phantom dugout, and the +collar of silver coins spread in extravagant display. The boatman in the +rear crooned a song of ancient Hkamti—of a Sawbwa who loved a Maru +maiden and forsook his kingdom for the dark-eyed daughter of delight. +And Trent, listening, felt himself drawn back to the night when he stood +in the bow of the <i>Manchester</i>, in the realm of the stars, and Romance +whispered an old, old tale.</p> + +<p>The spell did not leave until the boat grated upon a sandbank, close to +a dark tangle of forest, and Da-yak sprang out. Then Sarojini Nanjee put +away the map, rose and took Trent's hand.</p> + +<p>"Your camp is only a short distance beyond the trees," she told him.</p> + +<p>As he stepped out of the boat Da-yak made a sound like a night-bird, and +a moment later there came an answering cry from the dark thicket.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>When the juggler—he of the scar and the drooping eyelid—left the alley +in the bazaar, it was to follow Da-yak. At the P. W. D. Bungalow he saw +a sahib join the Tibetan—which was what he expected. From there he +tracked them to the river, and stood upon the high bank watching as they +cast off and glided downstream.</p> + +<p>When they were well under way he sauntered down to the huddle of boats, +and, choosing one, dropped his pack in the bow and kicked the Kachin who +lay sleeping in the bottom.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, lazy one; I would go to Waingmaw."</p> + +<p>The boatman, thus awakened, looked up with unconcealed hostility. Seeing +a native, and a ragged one at that, he let go a stream of oaths that, +fortunately for him, were not understood by the juggler. However, the +latter imagined from the tone in which the words were delivered that he +was being neither praised nor glorified.</p> + +<p>"This for thy trouble, O boatman," said the juggler, choosing to ignore +the oaths and thrusting a banknote within view of the Kachin's eyes.</p> + +<p>The boatman, not entirely appeased yet too avaricious to allow a mere +insult to stand between him and the banknote, pushed off, and the +juggler seated himself in the stern, both to steer and to watch the +craft ahead.</p> + +<p>"Do not gain on yonder boat," he instructed when they were in midstream, +"nor lose. If thou hast a conscience that thou canst smother, then this +night will indeed be profitable for thee, Kachin."</p> + +<p>The juggler said this knowing well that his every word would be repeated +to all the boatmen in Myitkyina, and that, after traveling through +devious channels, they would reach the bazaar, greatly magnified en +route. For what purpose a juggler with a drooping eyelid had followed a +boat down the river could only be surmised—but bazaars surmise much.</p> + +<p>"Know you those who are in that boat?" he continued, baiting gossip.</p> + +<p>The Kachin grunted—which was intended as a negative answer.</p> + +<p>"The boatmen are no friends of thine?"</p> + +<p>Another grunt. "The boat belongs to Kin Lo," the Kachin volunteered, +chewing on an opium pellet. "But some stranger hired it for the night." +And he added, by way of personal suggestion, "They paid well."</p> + +<p>This information pleased the juggler, for he smiled and drew out a +cheroot and lighted it.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" he growled. "They paid well, did they? Well, why should they not? +Robbers! Sons of swine! Listen, Kachin—in yonder boat is my enemy. From +Mandalay I have followed him, and ere the moon sinks I shall avenge the +wrongs he committed against my house!"</p> + +<p>"A-a-ah!" sympathized the Kachin, forgetting the rude awakening—they +are as eager for scandal, these wild men of the hills, as the most +polished Englishman who sits beneath a punkah in Rangoon Cantonment.</p> + +<p>Whereupon the juggler recited a tale of imaginary woes and wrongs that +did justice to his alleged art of story-telling. Myitkyina's lights had +long dropped away behind when the juggler saw the leading boat turn, +cross the path of moonlight and glide shoreward.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he muttered. "See, Kachin, he thinks to elude me, the swine!"</p> + +<p>A glance behind showed him another craft—a mere speck on the expanse of +the river. For a moment he was undecided what to do, then, with an +exclamation of satisfaction, he stripped himself but for a perineal +band.</p> + +<p>"Listen well, Kachin," he admonished, creeping forward. "It is not wise +for my enemy to see me coming ashore; therefore I shall swim, like a +crocodile. Turn back to Myitkyina. There hurry to the bungalow of +Colonel Warburton Sahib—you know where it is? Tell him he is wanted at +the landing immediately. He will go."</p> + +<p>"But my money," objected the Kachin. "How do I know you will come back?"</p> + +<p>"Dost thou not see, O fool, that I have left my clothes and my pack? +Will not I return for them?"</p> + +<p>The boatman was not positive of that.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I will give you half now," compromised the juggler, taking +a wallet from the inside pocket of his discarded jacket. The Kachin +watched with crafty eyes to see if the wallet would be returned to the +pocket, but the juggler thrust it carefully under his turban.</p> + +<p>"Lend me thy <i>dah</i>," he directed. "And do as I said. Thou shalt be well +rewarded for thy trouble."</p> + +<p>With the knife gripped between his teeth, he slipped over the side into +the current. He made no sound as he swam away from the boat; only his +moving head and the ripples in his wake told of swift, underwater +strokes.</p> + +<p>The river was cool—old wine to the muscles—and he made for the bank +several hundred feet above the white stretch of sand where the other +craft had landed. Not until he was very close to the shore could he +touch bottom. There he halted, head above the surface, eyes straining to +penetrate the gloom further along. He could make out the faint blur of +the boat and a single figure huddled in the stern. A look toward +midstream showed him his craft fast being absorbed by the darkness. +Behind it, coming from Myitkyina, was another boat.</p> + +<p>He waited for events to mature. When the latter craft, which he could +see contained two forms, came abreast of him, midstream, it turned +shoreward and a few minutes later touched the sandbank near the boat +that he had followed. He could dimly make out the two forms as they +carried several bulky objects ashore and vanished in the jungle—leaving +the solitary figure huddled in the rear of one of the boats.</p> + +<p>The juggler smiled to himself and struck out, swimming easily with the +current. Less than twenty yards from the boat he submerged, propelling +himself forward until yellow sparks reeled before him; then he buoyed +himself up.</p> + +<p>The two country-boats loomed close by. His heart beat a tattoo against +his breast as he waited, feet upon the pebbly bottom, to see if his +approach had been heard. Apparently it had not, for the man—a native +boatman from his appearance—lounged in the rear seat, his body slouched +forward.</p> + +<p>After a brief hesitation the juggler (his eyelid no longer drooping) +took the <i>dah</i> from between his teeth and moved slowly, cautiously to +the rear of the boat. It was shallower there; the water barely reached +his arm-pits and his chin was level with the back of the craft. The man +had not stirred; he was evidently asleep, the juggler thought. The +forest that met the sandbank was silent but for the whirr of cicadas.</p> + +<p>For a full moment the juggler stood motionless. When he moved it was +quickly—and before the native had time to realize what had occurred, he +was seized and jerked backward over the stern. If he cried out, the +water smothered the sound. But what he failed to do in noise, he made up +for in activity. He squirmed and wriggled, his legs and arms thrashing +about in vain effort to wrest himself from the grasp of his sudden +assailant. But the juggler had the advantage of surprise—and a firm +hold on the native's neck—and he brought the hilt of the <i>dah</i> down +upon the latter's skull. The native relaxed—sank with a gurgle.... The +juggler lifted him. Assured that he was only unconscious, he dragged him +to the sandbank, and there, breathing heavily, sank on his knees.</p> + +<p>The native, like the juggler, had a beardless face and was naked but for +loincloth and turban. The latter was small, a mere rag twisted around +his head. Therefore, the juggler told himself with the darkness as his +ally he might easily pass for the other—for a short while at least. And +the defeat of empire has been accomplished in less than an hour.</p> + +<p>He quickly stripped the man, then cut his own turban into strips and +gagged and bound the unconscious one. When this was done, he caught the +fellow under the arms and dragged him several yards down the bank. +There, carefully selecting a spot in the undergrowth where he was not +likely to be soon found, he hid him. Retracing his steps to the boat, he +sat down in the stern to wait.</p> + +<p>Indeed, he reflected, his kismet looked upon him with favor.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>FEVER</h3> + + +<p>Like a black wedge driven from Hkamti Long into Upper Burma, its point +touching the confluence of the Irrawaddi, lies a strip of territory that +on British maps is marked "unadministered." Outposts have been +established on either side, from Fort Hertz down to Myitkyina, paltry +stations where, in many instances, one white man and less than a company +of Gurkhas impose law upon primitive tribes. Thus, walled by +civilization yet untouched by it, the people of this black wedge live. A +peaceful lot now, this remnant of the once great Tai race. +Copper-skinned men hunt through its cathedral forests with <i>dah</i> and +crossbow. Baboons, buffalo and musk deer roam over its hills. Reptiles +haunt the green mucous of miasmatic valleys. Fever and pestilence lurk +in the purple fungi spawned by dark jungles, in bogs and in swamps where +the stench of rotten orchids hangs like a poison-vapor.</p> + +<p>Into this black wedge Trent traveled. Late afternoon of the ninth day +found his caravan encamped on a spit of sand reaching out into a river, +a stream that moved languorously between high canebrake. The man who sat +on a collapsible campstool before his tent, smoking, was as little like +the Englishman who got off the train at Myitkyina ten days before as +possible. His khaki breeches and flannel shirt were streaked with dust; +mud was caked upon his boots. The sun had burned him a deeper bronze, +and every variety of insect, from sandfly to blood-sucker, had left +marks upon him. A nine-days' growth of beard helped to cover tawny +fever-stains, but blotches showed on his neck and hands.... The jungle +had shown him how she initiates her neophytes.</p> + +<p>As he sat there staring at the jade-green river, he went back, in +retrospection, over the journey—not that he derived any pleasure from +the recollections, but because his brain seemed inclined to reach behind +and he was too mentally weary to make any effort to prevent it. To him, +now, those nine days were a confused sequence. For many miles beyond the +'Nmai-hka travel was not difficult, along bridle-paths and past villages +where Kachin and Maru women, flat-featured, ugly creatures, planted +their <i>taungya</i>, and men sat outside fiber huts and chewed betel leaves; +rugged, undulating country; rivers that flung their torrents over +shallow beds and were spanned by rattan bridges, the latter impossible +for the mules. Twice, where the water was too deep, Trent had the +muleteers construct crude rafts and pole the pack-animals across. The +first time they attempted this they lost a mule. Trent would always +remember that scene: the shrieking porters on the raft, the look of the +beast as the stream wrapped foaming arms about it and dragged it down +among sharp-fanged rocks.</p> + +<p>That night he had had his first attack of fever. For several hours he +lay on his camp-bed, harassed by ticks and bloodflies, shivering and +vomiting at intervals. Then he fell asleep, and when he awakened in the +morning, with rain drip-dripping monotonously upon tapering fronds, his +back ached and he was a furnace. All day it rained and all day Masein, +the Lisu guide, attended him. The following morning he had only a slight +temperature—a chronic touch of fever that remained for several +days—and he pressed on.</p> + +<p>Hourly the country grew wilder. They passed through thickets and +underbrush as tall as a man. Wild pigs scurried away in the bracken, and +jungle fowl preened their wings in the shadow of groping plants, taking +flight at the appearance of human beings. The fourth night they were +close to a stretch of burning bamboo—one of those sourceless fires that +spring up and sweep over miles. It was an awesome sight, the flames +flaring crimson against the sky, like the angry vomit of a crater, the +bamboo stalks popping and crackling as loud as the rattle of +machine-guns.</p> + +<p>Soon their trail led into great, dim forests. There the sunlight, robbed +of its pitiless blaze, sifted through interlaced branches and sucked up +moisture from the ground, creating a weird green haze. The air was +malarial, the ground ever soggy and in places treacherous. More than +once the mules sank to their bellies in bogs and fens. The miasmas +crawled with stealthy life—snakes and horrid land-crabs. Leeches bred +by the millions, and the oozy corruption exuded a thin, luminous vapor +that was warm and clammy and reeked of decayed matter. This noxious +swamp-effluvia seemed to penetrate to every crevice of Trent's being; it +saturated his brain; it tainted his thoughts. He ceased to marvel at the +wilderness of plumed flowers, of dank jungle caverns where sunlight +pulsed through the lacework of leaves in needles of white +flame—stretches where convolvulus fought for possession of every limb +and trunk, and insects rattled above stagnant pools of Death.... There +were times when a fever-film separated him from the world about him and +deprived objects of their individuality.</p> + +<p>At night spunk shone like phantom eyes. Strange winged creatures wheeled +out of the darkness. Baboons coughed in the bush. When the moon came out +the swamps glittered like sheets of rusted gunmetal—or, if it stormed, +the great jungle-expanse seemed a chapel of terror. Often Trent tried to +read by the campfire. But invariably the print danced before his eyes. +He would lie down outside the tent, listening to the Maru porters piping +on bamboo flutes, and when he grew sleepy Masein would rub him with +alcohol.... Thus he spent his evenings.</p> + +<p>Frequently—at dusk, dawn or midday—cool hands of memory fell with +silken lightness upon his feverish thoughts, the hands of the girl who +had become so closely woven into the fabric of his being. During those +half-delirious hours she grew to be an integral possession, a real +presence, warm and tangible.... And just as frequently, perhaps more +poignantly, he thought of Manlove. The silence, the isolation from his +kind, seemed to press deeper the realization of what had occurred. +There were moments when it seemed unreal; when the woman of the +cobra-bracelet, Chatterjee and the others that played in the drama, were +vague shapes in a shadow-show.... Or, if it had all happened, it was +long ago, dim as a dream.... That was fever.</p> + +<p>Too, he thought of Euan Kerth and conjectured what had become of him +since that evening he hurried away in the dusk at Myitkyina. That he had +lost the trail he felt certain, although there was a chance that he +would appear unexpectedly, as he had done before—a very filmy chance. +Had he discovered where Trent was going, he would surely have +communicated with him in some way.</p> + +<p>At several villages he inquired through Masein if another caravan had +preceded his. By the negative replies it became evident that Sarojini +Nanjee had taken another route, and he strongly suspected that she had +deliberately sent him on the longer and more difficult of the two. After +a few attempts to draw information from Masein, he decided that the Lisu +knew nothing, was simply what he was represented to be—a guide.</p> + +<p>The country beyond the swampland afforded much better traveling. To the +west mountains were visible—faint pastels of gray and pearl and +amethyst. In rocky gashes in the earth little cataracts fumed and +tumbled, and ferns and orchids grew in damp, moss-covered hollows. Trent +shot a deer and several pheasants. The higher altitude buoyed his +spirits, as did the fresh venison and fowl after so much canned food. +He ceased thinking morose thoughts. Yet the horror and reek of those +two days in the miasmas still clung in his memory, even in his nostrils, +he sometimes imagined.</p> + +<p>Thus, on the afternoon of the ninth day, they came to the spit of sand +reaching out into the river and pitched camp; and Trent, pipe in mouth, +sat in front of his shelter and looked at the Maru porters swimming in +the jade-green river without seeing them, while Masein gathered fuel, +and the mules, tethered near to the canebrake, swung their heads and +stamped in futile efforts to shake off leeches. There was nothing in the +scene even to suggest that an eventful night was being ushered in.</p> + +<p>The sun dropped lower. It chased the jade-green river with gold until it +glittered like a scaly python. Fireflies glimmered in the rushes, and a +bat pursued a velvety-winged moth.... Across the stream, from a Shan +village somewhere close by, a gong sounded. The Marus, laughing, swam +across and disappeared in the high grass. Masein called after them, but +received no response, and, muttering to himself, he impaled a strip of +venison upon a stick and held it over the flame. It writhed....</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Trent was stripped and in the water. Refreshed by a +swim, he dried himself and ate a meal of venison steak and tea. Stars +sprinkled the still flushed sky, like drippings from a silver +paint-brush, and under the spell of the jungle sunset Trent sat down in +front of his tent to smoke.</p> + +<p>It was then that he heard a faint, staccato report—like that of a +revolver or a rifle.</p> + +<p>It came from the hill-jungle behind the camp, and for several seconds +afterward he listened for a repetition. Masein, too, had heard, for he +stood motionless, looking at his master. But there was no second report, +and the silence, the utter quiet, made Trent wonder if he had really +heard anything. If it was a shot—? Well, he knew the natives had no +firearms; there must be white men in the district, P. W. D. men or +Government officers. In that event he did not wish to be seen, as there +would be questions to answer. He therefore suggested that Masein +investigate, and the Lisu plunged eagerly into the canebrake.</p> + +<p>A moment afterward Trent's imagination supplied a solution for the +shot—Kerth. He started to call Masein back, but reconsidered and +waited.... His wrist-watch ticked off fifteen minutes. He noticed, +abstractedly, pale flickerings on the far-away hills. When a half hour +had passed he followed the native's trail through the rushes and along a +narrow bridle-path. Not far from camp he met Masein.</p> + +<p>"It is a white man, master," exclaimed the Lisu. "He has a camp +there"—with a gesture.</p> + +<p>Then he extended something that glinted softly in the gloom, and Trent +took it and examined it closely. The blood throbbed in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Where did you get this?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"He gave it to me, master—the white man. He said when you saw that you +would come."</p> + +<p>Without another word Trent followed the Lisu, the blood still throbbing +hotly in his throat. For the thing that glinted softly was a golden +bracelet with the figure of a king-cobra wrought in heavy relief upon +it.</p> + +<p>More than a half-mile from the camp, on the trail that Trent's caravan +had traveled, they came to a clearing. A tent was pitched at one side, a +litter of packs scattered carelessly about three mules. A shadowy form +sat on a stool before the tent-door—a form that resolved into a young +man in khaki and a sun-helmet. The revolver that he held shone in the +deep twilight.</p> + +<p>As Trent and the Lisu appeared he jumped up. Trent instinctively drew +his weapon. The young man stumbled toward him. A yard away he paused and +swayed; his revolver slipped from limp fingers.</p> + +<p>"Major Trent!"</p> + +<p>At the sound of the voice, Trent sprang forward and caught the slim +form. It relaxed and the sun-helmet fell to the ground, releasing a +wealth of hair that rippled down and showered the shoulders with coiled +strands that in the fading light gleamed like molten copper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I knew you would come!" she gasped, with a hysterical little laugh. +"I—I sent that—like Kurnavati sent her bracelet—to Humayun—only—you +came—in time!"</p> + +<p>Whereupon her head dropped back and the starlight shone upon cool, +lustrous features. But she was not cool. Trent felt the heat of her +body, and, apprehensive, he placed his hand upon her forehead; let it +slip down until it touched the pulse in her throat; drew a sharp breath +and swore. Her eyes were open—glassy, staring eyes that looked at him +without seeing.</p> + +<p>"Miss Charteris!" he said. "Where are your porters? Who's with you? +You're not here alone, are you?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer. The lids sank over her eyes, and he knew she had +fainted. He looked about irresolutely. Through the trees, in the +direction of his camp, he saw a quick flash.</p> + +<p>"There was nobody else here when you first came?" he asked Masein; then, +as the Lisu answered negatively, commanded: "Look in the tent."</p> + +<p>Masein obeyed. His expression when he emerged told Trent it was empty. +The Englishman lifted the girl in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Wait here a few minutes," he instructed. "If anybody comes, report it +to me."</p> + +<p>With that he turned and strode back along the bridle-path, laboring +under the weight of the girl's body.</p> + +<p>Frequent flashes illuminated earth and sky; thunder grumbled, +approaching closer with every roll. A wind had sprung up and was +rustling the leaves overhead. Trent hurried, fearing the storm would +break before he reached camp.</p> + +<p>When he finally came to the sand-spit the wind was wildly whipping the +tent-flap. The stars had gone, and lightning, streaks following in rapid +succession, reflected a livid, sick hue upon the river. The girl was +conscious when he placed her upon his cot. She clung to his hands.</p> + +<p>"Where is the pain?" he asked. "In your back mainly?"</p> + +<p>She only moaned; he felt a tremor pass through her. Gently freeing his +hands, he went outside and shouted for one of the Marus. He swore +savagely when he received no answer. After strengthening the tent-pegs, +he made a search for his electric pocket-lamp. Snapping it on, he opened +his medicine-case; took out a hypodermic syringe....</p> + +<p>The rain came then, suddenly, in a drenching downpour. Sheets of water, +illuminated by vivid flares, swept across the river; ruthlessly lashed +the canebrake; beat deafeningly upon the canvas. Thunder crashed out in +mighty belches that shook the very ground.... It seemed that the +artilleries of the universe had concentrated upon earth.</p> + +<p>Trent knelt beside Dana Charteris, holding her hands and frequently +feeling her pulse. The girl went from one paroxysm of shivering into +another. Gradually the opiate deadened the pain. Several times she tried +to speak to him, but he put his fingers over her lips.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the tent-ropes strained, the wind tore through the trees. An +occasional crash told of a falling limb. For over an hour this +continued; then it ceased as suddenly as it had begun. When the wind +died down, Trent lighted a candle. Dana Charteris was as still and white +as a chiseled figure on a tomb. The sight of her made him catch his +breath. As he drew nearer she opened her eyes. He lifted one burning +wrist.</p> + +<p>"My porters," she whispered. "They ran away—I—"</p> + +<p>"You must keep very quiet," he interposed.</p> + +<p>"Is—is it—that bad?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated, then nodded. She closed her eyes; opened them an instant +later.</p> + +<p>"But do you want to save me? You know now ... the bracelet ..."</p> + +<p>"You must keep quiet," he repeated. "You must help me that way."</p> + +<p>A short while afterward, when the pattering rain had ceased and stars +peeped through the doorway, Masein crept in and told Trent something. +What it was the Englishman could not remember; he remembered only that +he directed the Lisu to break up the girl's camp and bring her mules and +supplies to the sand-spit. Every thought was focussed upon the slim hot +body that rolled and tossed upon the cot. She begged for injections of +opiate and sobbed when he refused. His lip was sore from the pressure of +his teeth. With each shiver of pain he suffered. It was one of the few +times in his career when he was afraid, dreadfully afraid.</p> + +<p>The dark hours wore on. Shortly after first-dawn she fell into a +restless feverish sleep. He slipped out to tell Masein to fetch fresh +water, and as he reëntered he felt a hard object in his pocket, pressing +against his thigh. It was the bracelet. He withdrew it, vanquishing by +sheer force the thoughts that uprose in his mind, and placed it in his +kit-bag. There it would stay until she could speak.</p> + +<p>As morning looked down from a golden sky Dana Charteris awakened, and +the battle was on again.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>During the next two days Trent lost cognizance of time. He warred +against elemental forces, armed with the crudest of weapons. Queer, +unfolding moments came to him, bringing a potent consciousness of +conflict that took him back to nights of tragedy and smoky turmoil—a +sense of blood in throat and nostrils that soldiers know.</p> + +<p>The girl wavered on the border of delirium. In her weakness she pleaded +for false stimulation, and there were times when he was tempted, for her +sake, to take the easiest course. Yet he knew that to surrender would +slay the tissues of resistance that he had struggled so steadfastly to +build, and he forced himself to consider only a lasting relief, +suffering himself an anguish as keen as the physical and experiencing +self-loathing when he performed those intimacies that were demanded of +him.</p> + +<p>He had fought death where the harvest was ghastly, perhaps had grown a +little calloused, as men will when in close and constant contact with +human ills, yet always, even in the case of the meanest Hindu coolie, he +felt a responsibility that challenged his sparring instincts. It was as +though he guarded some terrible frontier.... But nothing had ever so +drawn upon him and consumed his every unit of nerve and energy as this. +He felt wholly accountable for her condition, here in this remote spot. +Her pain was his own, a part of him, feeding upon his vitality. He gave +willingly, seeming in moments when she was drawn close to the Door to +infuse into her the power to fight as he, a strong man, could +fight—physically and spiritually. He was lifting her, but sinking +himself as he lifted. There were periods when thought and action were no +longer submissive to will; his brain felt atrophied and he was sentient +only to utter exhaustion. He seemed incapable of stemming the rush of +things beyond his dominion—was an atom in the path of a blinding and +inexorable force. The values of human remedies and sciences dwindled in +his sight. He was drained. Yet a vitalizing power, some inner dynamo, +never failed to energize him. He attended to every detail himself, +allowing Masein and the Marus only to take turns with a palmleaf at the +bedside.... It was, after he had exhausted medical means, a grapple in +the dark with foes that were neither tangible nor corporeal; when it was +over he did not understand nor try to fathom the miracle that was +wrought.</p> + +<p>At dusk of the third day her temperature was almost normal and she was +sleeping quietly. Trent, his face haggard, left the Lisu fanning her and +lurched rather than walked to the river. He shed his clothing and lay +for some time in the shallow water, his head pillowed upon one bent arm, +tasting of absolute relaxation.</p> + +<p>When he returned to the tent Dana Charteris was awake. Her hair lay in +red-gold confusion about her white face—a pool of glowing shades and +lights. She smiled faintly as he entered and he took the palmleaf from +Masein, motioning him to leave. She spoke.</p> + +<p>"I think we've won."</p> + +<p>By that he knew they had. A surge of relief swept up through him. It was +like a new and strange delirium; it unseated his control. He sank upon +his knees, and his lips touched one cool, moist hand. The fingers of her +other hand ran lightly through his hair.</p> + +<p>"O Arnold Trent, how you fought!" she breathed tremulously. "And all the +while you were wondering, wondering why I was there that night—why I—"</p> + +<p>"Hush," he remonstrated, lifting his head, again in command of himself. +"It isn't finished yet. You must promise not to speak of that—not until +I ask you. Now go to sleep. That is the quickest way you can get well."</p> + +<p>"I promise," she said weakly, tears trembling in her eyes, "if you will +rest, too. Will you? You need to be strong—strong—so you can help me."</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes; sighed. Her hand slipped from his clasp.</p> + +<p>He spread a blanket on the sand in front of the tent; spread it, and lay +down; and almost instantly sleep declared itself the emperor of his +being.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>The convalescence of Dana Charteris was short. A break in the rains had +more than a little to do with her recovery, for the sunshine was a +golden elixir that aroused the stricken forces of her body, was a +warmth that wiped away the fever-stains and ripened a faint color in +her cheeks.</p> + +<p>Once Trent offered to read to her. She begged him instead to tell her of +those tiger-hunts with his father. That seemed to touch a spring that +opened secret vaults of his nature. There was color and feeling in his +telling. He spoke in the abstract. She could smell the beast, flanks +aquiver, and wet, monsoon jungles in his sentences—sentences that +abounded with the metaphors that he liked to use.... India lived in her +while he talked—India, her wildernesses and her cities, her heart-break +and her treachery. Too, he taught her a few Hindustani words and +phrases.</p> + +<p>But his contributions did not alone make those hours rare. Her gifts +were as precious as pearls. Gossamer dawns when the sun's sabers smote +the lingering darkness and sent it reeling, when life seemed at its +ripest; the languor of purple nights, campfires glowing in the dusk—all +these were but vessels for the exquisite revelation of her.</p> + +<p>Yet under their talk was a strain that never relaxed. In the main part, +they spoke guardedly. The man never ceased to wonder what the +consequences of the delay would be, and it concerned him more than a +little what Sarojini Nanjee might do if she learned through Masein of an +alien presence in the caravan; while the girl, realizing she was holding +him back, yet dreading the time when he pronounced her entirely +recovered, was in a constant state of chaos.</p> + +<p>The fourth day after she passed the danger mark brought to a climax +their play-acting. The sun, like a red-lacquered ball, was rolling +toward the hills, shying little bronze disks at the river, and Dana +Charteris was seated on a blanket in front of the tent. Trent went to +his kit-bag to get a fresh supply of tobacco, and the gold bracelet +slipped out. She smiled—a frightened smile. She broke the tension by +saying:</p> + +<p>"There's no use to pretend any longer. I can't endure it. I'm delaying +you. I am strong enough to—to—" She stopped; began anew. "Oh, you've +been fighting against it! You're afraid for me to speak, afraid—" Again +she halted, groping for words.</p> + +<p>He had picked up the bracelet. She caught his hand.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, won't you?"</p> + +<p>He sank beside her. But his eyes were upon the heavily-chased circlet of +gold.</p> + +<p>"You've been so kind!" she breathed. "And all along, when you realized I +had been deceiving you, you tried to tell yourself it wasn't true; that +there might be two bracelets like that, and that it wasn't I who wore it +at Gaya that night. But there's probably not another bracelet like that +in India. My brother bought it for me in Delhi. It <i>was</i> I who wore it +at Gaya—who spoke to you on the road—who eavesdropped—who tried to +cheat you—who ran away, like a coward, when it became known that +Captain Manlove had been—been killed!"</p> + +<p>Strained silence followed, the girl eagerly watching his face for some +expression either of encouragement or condemnation, the man staring at +the bracelet in his hands. She forced herself to go on.</p> + +<p>"There's so much to tell that.... Well, I'll start at the very +beginning, when my brother sent for me to come to India—"</p> + +<p>Followed a recital of the meeting in Delhi and of her brother's story of +the jewels of Indore.</p> + +<p>"That night some one entered Alan's room and stole the imitation Pearl +Scarf," she continued. "Alan was hurt—stabbed. Later I found the +thief's turban and, inside, a scrap of paper with foreign writing upon +it. When I showed it to Alan, he said it was Urdu. Translated, it read +something like this: 'His name is Major Arnold Trent, of Gaya.'"</p> + +<p>Trent lifted his eyes questioningly, and she nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your name and address. That was all.... Alan was of the opinion +that the package Chavigny carried into the bazaar at Indore contained +the <i>real</i> Pearl Scarf, and that instead of the copy he snatched that. +By some means, he believed, it was traced to him—and stolen—whether by +Chavigny or another he could only guess.</p> + +<p>"I had an inspiration." She smiled slightly. "You will think me +foolish—yet—yet you seemed to understand on the <i>Manchester</i> when I +told you of the 'Caves of Kor' and the pirate island. I saw the doors of +my adventure opening. Too, I wanted to help Alan. I suggested that I +might learn something if I went to Gaya; Alan couldn't because of his +hurt. He wouldn't hear of it at first, but I finally persuaded him—and +went to Gaya, intending to go no further, not realizing—"</p> + +<p>She broke off abruptly, shrugged.</p> + +<p>"The afternoon I reached Gaya I hunted up your bungalow, merely to get +the location. That was the time I met you on the road. I'm a poor +adventurer, for that encounter frightened me dreadfully—and by the way +you looked at that"—indicating the bracelet—"I knew you'd recognize it +if you saw it again. That night I returned—and—" She paused, quite +evidently confused. "You'll surely think I—I—"</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said laconically.</p> + +<p>She averted her face, a flush upon her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I listened outside a window and heard you tell Captain Manlove of your +orders from Delhi and that you were going to Benares. After that I +hurried away. As I was leaving the compound Captain Manlove came to the +door. I went back to the Dâk Bungalow and sat down and thought. Oh, I +thought a long while. Then I rode to the telegraph office and sent a +message to Alan, saying I was leaving for Benares. While I was there an +officer came in and I heard him tell the clerk that Captain Manlove had +been found"—she hesitated—"dead."</p> + +<p>The muscles of Trent's jaw tightened visibly as she pronounced the word. +Otherwise he was expressionless, still staring at the bracelet. Why +didn't he move or say something, she wondered? It was maddening, the way +he kept silence!</p> + +<p>"The picture of Captain Manlove," she resumed, "as I last saw him in +the doorway haunted me. I thought of a hundred things that might happen +if it were learned that I had gone to your bungalow just before—before +his death. So"—there was a bitter note in her voice—"so I left within +two hours, buying a ticket to Mughal Sarai instead of to Benares."</p> + +<p>For the first time he asked a question; but he did not raise his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You took the coral pendant from my room—there at Benares?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "That piece of coral! It caused me hours of anxiety! The +afternoon you arrived I saw it in your hands while you were sitting on +the portico. It rather fired my imagination, although I didn't know its +significance then. After dinner, when you left the hotel, I tried to +follow, but I became hopelessly lost. I had a frightful time finding my +way back to the hotel. But I wasn't to be cheated; intrigue was burning +in me that night. I borrowed a skeleton key and sent my servant—a man I +had hired—to search your room and bring me the piece of coral. Of +course, when I found that it opened and that Chavigny's alias was +engraved inside, I knew I had a valuable clue. But my servant wasn't +able to return it, for when he went back there was a light in your +room.... I was in a dilemma. I didn't know what to do."</p> + +<p>"But why did you send him to my room in the first place—or follow me to +Benares?" he interrupted quietly. "Surely you knew I was on a Government +mission and that—I sha'n't mince words—that you were interfering with +affairs that didn't concern you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I realize that," she confessed. "Oh, I admit I was wrong—but I +had entered the 'Caves of Kor' and the lure of them drew me on."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to be unkind," he broke in, relenting. "I—"</p> + +<p>"You are simply telling the truth," she supplied. "I <i>shouldn't</i> have +done it, but I deluded myself into believing I might recover the Pearl +Scarf and help Alan. I was selfish enough to want him to achieve at the +cost of another's failure. That was why I went on to Calcutta. I had no +idea where you were going, that next morning at Benares; that is, until +I saw a porter take your trunk from your room. Then I sent my servant to +find out where it was bound, and—I packed quickly and followed."</p> + +<p>"Then you tracked me to the Chinese quarter there, instead of—" He did +not finish.</p> + +<p>She knew that the truth would tarnish a memory, but she could not evade +it. She smiled wanly.</p> + +<p>"I have reached the 'Temple of Truth' in my 'Caves of Kor'! Yes, I +followed, with a guide. Alan had wired me the name of a man who he said +would serve me well—an old bearer of his. I waited all afternoon on the +upper porch of the hotel, and when you left I followed, with Guru Singh, +the bearer. We hired an automobile, instructing the driver to keep you +in sight. When you left your automobile, we left ours.... Oh, those +frightful places you led us through! Of course we were halted when you +went into that house in that dreadful street.</p> + +<p>"I determined then to make your acquaintance. Just before you came out I +sent Guru Singh away; then I deliberately threw myself upon your mercy. +But oh, I felt guilty! I realized that you didn't suspect it was all +deliberate and planned!</p> + +<p>"The next morning I made another desperate move. I <i>had</i> to return that +piece of coral. Too, I wanted to learn your plans. I gave the pendant to +Guru Singh—with instructions. To insure him against discovery, I—I +asked you to go shopping with me. Guru Singh found a packet in your +trunk showing that you had a berth on the <i>Manchester</i> to Rangoon, and +that from there you were going to Myitkyina, to the shop of Da-yak, a +Tibetan. But your servant happened along, and in the excitement Guru +Singh forgot to leave the coral. It seemed that I'd never rid myself of +it!"</p> + +<p>The sun was almost below the hills now. A gong in the nearby Shan +village rang clearly across the quiet evening. Both Trent and the girl +sat motionless, listening until it died out.</p> + +<p>"I wired Alan that I was going to Rangoon and would wait for him there," +she said, taking up the thread of her story. "I didn't send it until +just before I went to the boat, for I was afraid he might say no—and, +oh, I wanted to see my adventure through!</p> + +<p>"On shipboard Guru Singh at last succeeded in returning the coral—but +that inevitable servant of yours appeared. I was terrified when I +learned that Guru Singh had been caught! I felt responsible for it, and +afterward I carried food to him several times. That was what I was doing +the night I met you on deck. I was frightened, and I flung plate and all +overboard. Then.... But you know what occurred then. I had come to hate +myself for what I was doing, yet the thing was a Medusa. It held me and +I let it draw me on.</p> + +<p>"I met Guru Singh, by previous instructions, at the pagoda in Rangoon, +and we drove to Alan's bungalow—but only to leave part of my baggage, +and that night I took a train for Myitkyina with Guru Singh. When we got +there I realized the presence of a strange white woman would be noticed +in so small a place, so I instructed Guru Singh carefully and went back +to Mandalay to wait.</p> + +<p>"The second day in Mandalay I heard from Guru Singh. He wired for me to +come. When I arrived he told me he had found where the jewels were—also +that you had left Myitkyina. It seems that Da-yak was arrested"—here +the muscles of Trent's jaw tensed again—"and your servant, too. Guru +Singh said he bribed the jailer to let him see Da-yak, who, after he was +paid liberally, told where you had gone.... He said the jewels had been +taken to a city in Tibet: the name is Shingtse-lunpo. The sum of his +words is that this place is the penetralia of a band called the Order of +the Falcon, with a man known as the Falcon at its head. The Tibetan took +oath he didn't know the Falcon. At any rate, he said that to get there +one had to go first to a town across the China border—Tali-fang, he +called it—and that only three men in Myitkyina knew the route to +Tali-fang, one of whom had gone with your caravan and another with some +one else. The third was a Buddhist priest. Da-yak said there were +several ways of reaching Tali-fang and that you had been sent by the +longest. At Tali-fang one would have to depend upon his own resources to +get a guide to take him into Tibet, he said. That was all he would +tell—or rather, he said that was all he knew."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose," Trent questioned, "he told who had him arrested?" Yet +Trent felt that he knew without asking who had arrested Da-yak and +Tambusami.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied.</p> + +<p>Trent nodded—more to himself than to her—and she went on.</p> + +<p>"That the jewels were in Tibet—vast, mysterious Tibet—both frightened +and fascinated me. To go where no white woman, had been—the land of +Marco Polo, Orazio della Penna and Huc! You can understand the lure of +it. Yet I think I must have been a little mad to have attempted it—but +we all are, aren't we?</p> + +<p>"Guru Singh—poor, dear Guru Singh!—tried to persuade me to turn back, +but I wouldn't. We went to the Buddhist priest. For an extortionate sum +he agreed to guide us to Tali-fang. So we outfitted a caravan, Guru +Singh, the monk and I, and two days after you left Myitkyina we took the +same trail. I went as a man; I thought it would excite less suspicion. +Before leaving, I wrote Alan. I waited until then because I knew he +would disapprove.</p> + +<p>"At several villages we learned that you had already passed; then, the +third afternoon, one of the porters, who was ahead, came back with the +news that your pack-train was about a mile in advance. We marched more +slowly after that. The nearness of another white person reassured me, +for—oh, before that it was terrible in those jungles and swamps! I +think the loneliness and the fright, after dark, would have driven me +mad had I not remembered what the converted Brahmin priest, who lectured +at home, said about the jungle. That comforted me.</p> + +<p>"Last—When was it? I can't remember now—but it was late afternoon and +I was sitting in front of my tent. The Buddhist priest passed. There was +something about him, the way he looked at that moment, that struck me +numb to the heart.... I realized what an impossible thing I was trying +to do; wondered what would happen if I reached Tali-fang and found I +couldn't go further. Yet—yet I <i>couldn't</i> turn back. As I sat there, +thinking, a desperate plan unfolded.... I told Guru Singh.</p> + +<p>"The next afternoon, late, he and the priest and my porters left for +Myitkyina. Guru Singh stayed behind until—until I fired the +shot—and—and your muleteer brought you. I began to feel ill, suddenly. +I.... Well, that's all. I had intended to tell you that my porters +deserted—and other lies, too. I knew you wouldn't leave me; you +couldn't send me back, and you'd have to take me with you. But +after—after all you did—I couldn't falsify; I couldn't.... Now you +know the truth."</p> + +<p>She halted—halted and waited for him to speak. But he did not. His eyes +were still upon the bracelet, nor did he look up. The silence was long +and tense. Finally, unable to endure it longer, she moved her hand +tentatively; dropped it; raised it again and let it rest lightly upon +his sleeve.</p> + +<p>"You—you believe me—don't you?" she faltered.</p> + +<p>He drew a deep breath; lifted his head.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, looking across the river. "Yes, of course I believe you. +I'm only wondering what I'm going to do with you."</p> + +<p>He rose then and moved off rapidly toward the canebrake.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>For over an hour Trent walked. When he returned to camp he found Dana +Charteris sitting where he had left her. Masein had made a fire, and the +leaping flames kindled a glow in the meshes of her red-gold hair. Eyes +dark with misery met his—moist eyes.... The cobra-bracelet glinted on +his wrist.</p> + +<p>"I was abrupt a while ago," he announced, halting before her, head +slightly lowered—as a man stands before a cathedral-image. "I am sorry. +I was worried. I shouldn't have left as I did, nor should I have stayed +away so long, but I wanted to be alone—to solve the problem. I think I +have."</p> + +<p>She smiled faintly. "Don't apologize, Arnold Trent. You've done enough +for me." She paused. "You must hate me," she pressed on after a moment. +"First I deceive you; then I fall sick and delay you; and when I +recover, I am a stone about your neck." She laughed a mirthless little +laugh. "What are you going to do with me?"</p> + +<p>He made a gesture. "You were right. I haven't a guide to send back with +you, and you can't go alone. The nearest Government post is +Kwanglu—that's at least a two-days' journey. I can't afford to delay +any longer. Yet if I take you with me and anything happens to you—" He +hesitated, then finished: "I'd never forgive myself. So what am I to +do?"</p> + +<p>She got up, and her eyes shone with the warmth of the fire.</p> + +<p>"I—I might be able to help you," she suggested rather timidly, as +though afraid he would scorn the idea. "I've hindered you so much that +the least I can do is to try to make amends. Oh, I realize what you're +thinking, that I am a woman and would only be a burden, but—"</p> + +<p>"No," he interrupted, "I wasn't thinking that—I was thinking of you. +God knows, from a selfish standpoint, I would be glad enough for your +companionship! But aside from the physical danger, there are other +things to reckon with. That's the trouble with people; they don't +consider the future. And if we come out of this alive, there's a future. +It's all right for me; but you—you're a woman. And the public doesn't +credit any man with honor, or any woman with self-respect, if they're +thrown together under other than conventional circumstances. Don't you +see what people will say when they learn of it? And they will learn of +it—and you can't ignore their opinions. They couldn't understand, damn +them; rather, they <i>wouldn't</i>.... You see?" Another pause, and he +repeated: "You see?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "Yet I'm here"—helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Yet you're here," he echoed, with a gesture of futility.</p> + +<p>He strode away; turned back at a sudden thought.</p> + +<p>"Of course, there's one thing I've overlooked in my masculine egotism. +It just occurred to me that you—you might be afraid to go with me."</p> + +<p>"No," she interposed very quietly—and to him the world seemed to expand +to greater dimensions. "No. I am not afraid." That was all. Yet it +thrilled him.</p> + +<p>After a few seconds he resumed.</p> + +<p>"You must promise to do as I say; and without asking questions. I've +given my word, you know. Before we reach Tali-fang you'll have to be +fixed up like a Hindu. You can be my brother, or anything you like. I'll +teach you a few more Hindustani words—necessary words. You won't have +to talk much, if any. There will be hardships—many—but—" He furrowed +his hair. "There's no alternative."</p> + +<p>Then, glancing down at the bracelet, he took it off.</p> + +<p>"Here—"</p> + +<p>"Won't you keep it?" she asked. "I sent it with a plea for succor, and +you came. According to the custom, you are my bracelet-brother, sworn to +honor and protect. So won't you keep it, as Humayun, the Great Mogul, +kept the bracelet of Kurnavati, the Rani of Chitor?"</p> + +<p>For answer he slipped the golden circlet over his hand. The girl, with a +swift smile, turned and went into the tent. And, being a man, he could +not know it was for the express purpose of crying.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>CARAVAN</h3> + + +<p>Ahead, above a sea of indigo poppies, rose the walls of Tali-fang. Blue +poppies rippled eastward and north to the foot of blue mountains (the +seamed, craggy wastes that bulwarked Tibet); rippled westward and south +until they melted into the blue haze of uncertain distance. Thus the +city, with its dun-colored walls, swam in the poppies like an island +against whose battlemented shore blue waves surged and tossed.</p> + +<p>The cavalcade that rode through the veritable tunnel under the ramparts +was hardly one to arouse suspicion in the mind of the blear-eyed +Yunnanese soldier who drowsed in the damp dismal shadow of this gateway +that was almost as ancient as China itself and under which at least one +fifth of the opium that finds its way mysteriously to the Coast, and +thence over the rim of the earth, had passed. To him it was merely a +string of burdened, tired-looking mules, four half-naked +savages—<i>yehjen</i>, as the Chinese call the hill-folk of Upper Burma—and +two swarthy, turbaned men that he could not immediately classify and was +too indolent, too saturated with drugs, to conjecture about.</p> + +<p>Tali-fang was small and sprawling. Flies swarmed over it, as over a +corpse, and the odor of it was very like that of the dead. Misty-eyed, +morbific beings—neither Trent nor Dana Charteris could call them +human—lounged in the doorways of filthy houses: Mossos, Loutses, +Chinese and Tibetans. City, inhabitants, all, seemed as old and +iniquitous as sin itself.</p> + +<p>After numerous inquiries they were directed to the <i>yamen</i> of the +Tchentai, or military chief—a house with upcurling eaves, surrounded by +a wall. A soldier informed them that his Excellency Fong Wa, the +Tchentai, was at present indisposed, but if they would go to the inn he +would send for them at the proper time.</p> + +<p>The caravanserai was a mean, stinking place. If there was a +<i>khan</i>-keeper he was nowhere in evidence. The hovel was deserted. Late +in the afternoon two Mussulman soldiers appeared and told Trent that the +Tchentai would receive him, and with Masein in tow (he left Dana +Charteris, a slim, boyish figure, hair bound under a turban, sitting in +a dejected heap in the courtyard) he followed them to the <i>yamen</i> of +Fong Wa.</p> + +<p>The mandarin was waiting in a court where orange-trees and pomegranates +dappled the ground with shadow. From the manner in which he greeted +Trent the latter suspected that the Chinaman knew he was white. His +green eyes—vicious, cunning eyes—looked out from beneath puffed lids. +As he talked a flat-breasted slattern attended him with a pipe and poppy +treacle.</p> + +<p>"I expected you many days before this," said his Excellency, through +Masein. "I trust you have not been ill."</p> + +<p>Trent replied that he had. After a few more courtesies, including gifts, +the yellow man presented Trent with a wrapped packet.</p> + +<p>"She who intrusted these papers into my keeping passed on the night of +the new moon." Then, concluding the interview, he added: "Certain +supplies and mules, together with a <i>makotou</i> and three <i>mafus</i>, will be +sent to you some time to-morrow. You will then proceed as she directed."</p> + +<p>"I wish to leave immediately," Trent told him. "I am late now."</p> + +<p>"That is quite impossible," answered the mandarin, abruptly. "All is not +ready."</p> + +<p>"But if I was expected before this, then why aren't they ready?"</p> + +<p>The Tchentai was not pleased with that question. The green eyes +flickered.</p> + +<p>"It is enough that I say it is impossible," he replied curtly. "I am +military chief of Tali-fang. My word is law."</p> + +<p>Trent suspected that the Chinaman, knowing he was white, was +deliberately taking the opportunity to display his authority. He was +muscle-sore and brain-tired, and the prospect of spending the night in +this moribund city did not cheer him. With a slight movement he parted +his jacket; the oval of coral lay against his stained skin.</p> + +<p>"Tell his Excellency," he instructed Masein, noticing by Fong Wa's +expression that he saw the pendant, "that I demand the supplies and +pack-animals to-night, now; and if he refuses, I shall report it to one +whose authority reaches many miles beyond Tali-fang."</p> + +<p>Revolutions have been ignited by fewer and less veiled words than +those.... The Chinaman's eyes burned like chrysoprase, and for a moment +the Englishman thought he had lost. Then Fong Wa spoke and Masein +translated.</p> + +<p>"Your threats are useless, yet I will see what I can do." And Masein did +not put into English the <i>chu-kou</i>, or pig-dog, that his Excellency +added.</p> + +<p>Trent left the <i>yamen</i> of the military chief in a very troubled state of +mind. He knew he had struck flint—knew also that despite Fong Wa's +evident fear of the "one whose authority reaches many miles beyond +Tali-fang," there were ways and means of diverting circumstance to his +cunning. For himself he had little fear; Dana Charteris was the source +of concern.</p> + +<p>A short distance away, one of the soldiers who had summoned Trent to the +mandarin's house approached and addressed him in very bad English.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen</i>," he began, "seven days ago a Buddhist priest passed this way +and left a message for you with Fong Wa. Because the Tchentai was angry, +he did not give it to you. For three <i>taels</i> I will steal it and bring +it to you."</p> + +<p>Trent considered a moment before he said—</p> + +<p>"When you deliver the message to me, I will give you three <i>taels</i>."</p> + +<p>This evidently satisfied the soldier, who grinned and hurried off toward +the mandarin's residence.</p> + +<p>"I think we'll leave Tali-fang to-night," Trent informed Dana Charteris +when he reached the <i>khan</i>. "It's the wisest move—for more than one +reason. Suppose you rest; we may have to ride into the night, or until +morning."</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head. "I am not tired."</p> + +<p>He saw that the town had tainted her—that she was struggling with one +of those rare moments when glamour tarnished and she was close to +surrender to her feelings. She had shown fine courage during the +journey, flexing herself to meet every circumstance. Pure metal was +behind those eyes. And it amazed him that she could meet the tests of +the wilds and lose none of the feminine. (A romanticist always, this +Trent, seeking in woman those elements that keep her in the vestal +niche.) At times the call of her vibrated through his every nerve—but +he had not forgot the circlet of gold. "Bracelet-brother." That he would +be until they returned to metaled roads and electric-tramways; then the +lover, with the lover's message to deliver....</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble about me," she said. "When we get into the open spaces +again it will be different; there our lungs won't be poisoned."</p> + +<p>While Masein was cooking the evening meal the soldier who told of the +purloined message appeared and in exchange for three <i>taels</i> pressed a +folded sheet of rice-paper into Trent's hand. By the firelight the +Englishman inspected it. It was written in Urdu and ran:</p> + +<blockquote><p>They tell a tale of Chunda Ram, the juggler, who made two +cobras dance; of a mongoose that entered a lair and instead of +vipers found a fat-bellied spider; of a lioness that guarded +her whelps. You shall hear it—this tale of tales—from Rabsang +Lama, who has journeyed north, into the falcon's country.</p></blockquote> + +<p>That was all—no signature. Trent read it and reread it. A fourth time +his eyes traveled over the cryptic lines before he mined their meaning. +Then he chuckled. Kerth—Kerth of many identities—was the lama who had +passed through Tali-fang seven days before, and it was he who arrested +Da-yak and Tambusami. The spider was Li Kwai Kung; the lioness the +British Empire. The message came as a rift in gloom.</p> + +<p>Perceiving the soldier who had brought the missive still standing close +by, he directed a questioning look at him.</p> + +<p>"I would speak with you alone, <i>Tajen</i>," he said.</p> + +<p>Trent started to rise, but Masein and the porters were not within +earshot and he decided otherwise.</p> + +<p>"Speak. This"—indicating the girl—"is my brother. What I know he +knows."</p> + +<p>Trent could have sworn that the soldier winked at him slyly as he said +"brother," but it was too dark to be sure.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen</i>, I came to warn you," he announced. "Fong Wa is not kindly +disposed since your visit. He will send the mules and supplies, because +he is a coward; but he has made it impossible for you to leave the city +to-night. All gates close at sunset, and he has issued an order that no +caravan pass in or out."</p> + +<p>Trent thought for some time before he spoke. Finally:</p> + +<p>"What reason has he to wish to prevent me from leaving to-night?"</p> + +<p>The soldier shrugged.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma-chai</i>," he replied—which is the superlative of indifference.</p> + +<p>That the Oriental had some ulterior motive Trent did not doubt for an +instant. In a land where three thousand years of intrigue has bred a +suspicious people, a kindly act is not the best symptom. He did not +waste words, but asked:</p> + +<p>"Why do you tell me this?"</p> + +<p>Another shrug. "I am <i>houi-houi</i>," he explained, that is to say, a +Chinese Mussulman. "Fong Wa is a Lamaist dog. He is a leech that sucks +blood from the people. They hate him. He never pays the soldiers and +many are deserting to go down the Yangtze, where a war is brewing."</p> + +<p>Trent kept silent, waiting to hear the purpose behind this introductory +talk. The soldier was a reckless-looking fellow. The edge of his scant +turban touched eyes that gleamed with a light inherited from a +succession of robber-ancestors. An amiable young villain, he imagined.</p> + +<p>"My name is Kee Meng," the Oriental volunteered. "My father was Tibetan, +my mother Mosso. But I am Yunnanese. Oh, I have traveled much! +Chung-king—even Hankow! I was <i>makotou</i> for an English <i>Tajenho</i> who +went from Liangchowfu to Urga. See,"—he drew a piece of paper from +under his jacket—"this is a letter he wrote saying I was a very fine +<i>makotou</i>—only he called me <i>bashi</i>—the very best in China. Read it, +<i>Tajen</i>."</p> + +<p>Trent took the paper; glanced over it; waited.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you something else, <i>Tajen</i>," Kee Meng continued. "Your +<i>makotou</i> and <i>mafus</i> are spies. She who passed on the night of the new +moon told them to watch you and report to her at Shingtse-lunpo. I heard +her. They are dogs and thieves, those muleteers." Then he bent closer, +as though afraid he would be overheard. "<i>Tajen</i>, I know the road to +Shingtse-lunpo—I and my three friends. We have been there often to +deliver messages from Fong Wa to the Grand Lama. Fong Wa is a tool of +the lamas. He is a fool. We are tired of Tali-fang, my friends and I. We +will serve you well. We are cheap. Only twenty <i>taels</i> a month. And +look, <i>Tajen</i>."</p> + +<p>He turned and called a word, and three blue-jacketed, turbaned soldiers, +each as reckless-looking as Kee Meng, entered and saluted Trent.</p> + +<p>"See? Are they not fine muleteers?"</p> + +<p>Instead of answering, Trent asked a question:</p> + +<p>"What else do you know of her who passed on the night of the new +moon—and a certain bird that roosts in Tibet?"</p> + +<p>"She who passed on the night of the new moon?" the Oriental echoed. "Of +her I know nothing, except that she would spy upon the <i>Tajen</i>, who, +according to what she told Fong Wa, is <i>Tajenho</i> in his country. And +the bird—" He looked genuinely puzzled. "There are many birds in +Tibet—kites and vultures! There are yaks, too, if the <i>Tajen</i> wishes to +shoot."</p> + +<p>Satisfied on that score, Trent went on:</p> + +<p>"But what of my muleteers? I can't dismiss them. And if it's impossible +to leave the city to-night—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen</i>," Kee Meng broke in, "I know a way. Only speak the word and +your four muleteers will disappear—like that!" And he made a gesture. +"Then we, my friends and I, will lead you out of Tali-fang to-night; and +Fong Wa will not know until it is too late. Once we are beyond the +Yolon-noi, he has no power over us. He is Tchentai of only this +district. By riding all night we would be in Tibet before sunrise—and +there—" He made another gesture.</p> + +<p>"How do I know you're telling the truth?" queried Trent, putting forth a +feeler. A plan was shaping in his mind. He did not look at Dana +Charteris, but he felt her eyes upon him, felt, too, that she read his +thoughts.</p> + +<p>"By Allah!" declared the Mussulman (and a Mussulman's oath to his God is +not so flexible as that of a Buddhist or a Christian). "May I wither and +turn black if I lie!"</p> + +<p>"What of my muleteers?" Trent pursued.</p> + +<p>Kee Meng winked. "Ah, that is easy!"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't—"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, <i>Tajen</i>! We will not kill them!" the soldier exclaimed +virtuously—but he smiled. "There is an unused house near the North +Gate, and under the house is a cellar where opium is stored. We will +hide them there, and they will not be found until morning."</p> + +<p>"But how will we get out of the city?" Trent interrogated.</p> + +<p>"Give me five <i>taels</i> and I will fix it. Mo-su, who guards the North +Gate, is a poor man and a fool. Oh, it is easy if one is clever, as I +am! Your mules and supplies are at the Tchentai's; to reach here they +must pass through dark streets. We are strong.... Then we can take your +caravan to the North Gate, while one of us returns for you. We each have +a mule. Oh yes, it will be easy, <i>Tajen</i>!"</p> + +<p>Trent knew Kee Meng's type. "He who would ride a wild camel must first +teach him who is master," says a proverb. These villainous-looking young +brigands could fight—if the proper inducement were provided. It would +be reassuring to know he had allies, few though they were. As for +Sarojini Nanjee—"Set a spy on the heels of a spy," runs another +proverb. It was not breaking his word to her; there was nothing in the +agreement to prevent him from exchanging caravan-men.... Too, he would +feel safer beyond the reach of Fong Wa. He did not like those green +eyes. Yet it was a desperate risk.</p> + +<p>"What do you know of this city, this Shingtse-lunpo?"</p> + +<p>"I know that there are many lamas there, <i>Tajen</i>—oh, many, like the +blades of grass! There is a monastery called Lhakang-gompa, whose roofs +are gold and whose walls are as white as the sky at midday! The holy +city of Lhassa is an open book beside it. Soldiers of the Golden Army +guard every approach. There dwells the High Lama of all lamas."</p> + +<p>Trent credited the "roofs of gold" to the elasticity of the native mind.</p> + +<p>"That is strange," he commented, baiting the Mussulman. "If it is so +great a city, then why do not the English, who sent an army to Lhassa +and routed the Dalai Lama, know of it? White men have been in Tibet. If +there is such a city, why has no one heard of it?"</p> + +<p>Kee Meng shrugged.</p> + +<p>"White men have been in Tibet, yes—but not in <i>that</i> part.... Tibet has +its secrets, <i>Tajen</i>; she guards them well. My father, who was a +Tibetan, said so."</p> + +<p>After a pause Trent went on:</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to prevent you or your comrades from deserting me when +we get under way. What assurance have I?"</p> + +<p>"We swear by Allah to go with you to Shingtse-lunpo," said Kee Meng, +"and from there wherever you wish to travel—so long as we receive +twenty <i>taels</i> a month and half of the first month's pay in advance +now!"</p> + +<p>Accordingly, Kee Meng's comrades took oath.</p> + +<p>"And obey me," Trent added.</p> + +<p>"And obey you," the Mussulmen repeated.</p> + +<p>Trent reached under his jacket, where his money-belt was concealed, and +counted out twenty-five <i>taels</i>.</p> + +<p>"Five for the guard at the gate," he explained, "and five apiece for the +four of you. When we leave Tali-fang you will each receive the other +five agreed upon."</p> + +<p>"<i>Cheulo!</i>" agreed Kee Meng. Then he let his eyes rove over the packs +and mules. "Have everything ready in an hour. Fong Wa expects you to try +to leave to-night, so we will take your guides and mules to the gate and +there transfer the packs to the fresh mules, sending back the men and +old mules. If Fong Wa is watching, he will see them and believe you are +returning to the inn. He will be very angry to-morrow, but he will not +dare touch your porters, for they are <i>yehjen</i>. Remember—in an hour."</p> + +<p>The villainous-looking quartet quitted the courtyard, and Trent, +watching them go, wondered if he had acted wisely.</p> + +<p>"Your bodyguards when we reach Shingtse-lunpo," he said, turning to Dana +Charteris and smiling slightly; then, glancing at the rice-paper in his +hand, he added: "From Euan Kerth.... He's on the way to the Falcon's +city, as a lama."</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>At the appointed time Kee Meng returned.</p> + +<p>"All is well, <i>Tajen</i>," he told Trent. "My friends are waiting at the +gate, with the caravan."</p> + +<p>The small pack-train was assembled, and they left the inn. Kee Meng +walked beside Trent. The Englishman let one hand rest upon the revolver +strapped to his thigh; the girl riding at his side nervously fingered a +corrugated butt. The streets were dim and for the most part deserted. +Now and then doors opened and eyes peered out, invisible but felt. +Tali-fang lay in a sepulchral hush, its quiet only emphasized by +jingling harness-chains and the dull, muffled beat of hoofs.</p> + +<p>Trent's breathing quickened as they approached the walls. The tunnel +leading to the gate yawned cavernously. In its gloom the pale eye of a +lantern wavered. A mule brayed hideously as they rode into the foul +artery. By the faint rays of the lantern Trent saw mules and ponies, +packs and bulging saddle-bags; saw Kee Meng's villainous-looking +comrades and a gaunt individual whom he imagined was the gateman. Kee +Meng pressed him forward between the ill-smelling beasts. Dana Charteris +was by his side. They dismounted.</p> + +<p>There was a rasping sound and the ponderous gates swung apart. Starlight +gleamed upon spiked panels. Framed in the archway were mountains and +sky—dark loam smeared upon the firmament. A breath of clean air +penetrated into the tunnel.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen</i>, you and your brother get into the saddles," whispered Kee +Meng. "I will tell your men to wait a few minutes before they go back to +the inn."</p> + +<p>Mule-harness rattled. One of the men uttered a sharp command, and a +protesting quadruped moved through the gateway—another behind it. The +mules were strung together, led by a man on foot. More jingling of +harness; the soft <i>pad-pad</i> of hoofs.</p> + +<p>Dana Charteris was trembling as Trent helped her upon her mount. The +pony's coat was sleek and moist under his touch. He swung into his own +saddle.... The gates closed behind him. A figure that looked like Kee +Meng led the girl's pony forward, after the file of mules.</p> + +<p>They were again in the clean temple of the open spaces.</p> + +<p>... Tali-fang fell away in the rear—a pale blot on the dim shivering +mass of the poppy-fields. They skirted a hamlet not far from the city's +walls. Dogs snarled; once more doors opened.... The ground sloped ever +upward, and from shadowy forests came the healing smell of pines. A +buttressed range impended, its peaks virgin with snow—rugged mountains +where in places the sides were sheer and rose to shuddersome heights. +Toward this mighty chaos of rock—vomit of some earth-ailment—the road +plunged.</p> + +<p>Thus began the Yolon-noi Pass.</p> + +<p>Loose stones rattled under the feet of the animals, and a wind, chilled +in the cisterns of the night, swept down the cañon, shaking the scraggly +growths and animating the shadows. The pass had narrowed to a mere rift +where not more than four men could ride abreast. It seemed a place of +shrieking demons when a mule brayed, for the wind snatched up the sound +and carried it from boulder to boulder, until it perished in a weird +echo upon the serrated ridges.</p> + +<p>Just before midnight the moon rose and sent the gloom scurrying, and +jackals laughed as though to mock the terrors that a moment ago seemed +so real. Moonlight shone on scintillant rock; the loftiest, snow-capped +peaks gleamed like palest nacre.... Trent rode beside Dana Charteris. +The caravan-men and the pack-animals were ahead, moving with a slow, +uneven rhythm, the long line of laden beasts casting distorted shadows +upon the road.</p> + +<p>"O Arnold Trent, I could cry for sheer joy!" whispered the girl. "Can't +you feel the night singing in your veins? Tibet! To think I should ever +reach it!"</p> + +<p>Trent's throat tightened, and the wind sang one word—<i>Tibet! +Tibet!</i>—over and over in his ears. He rode on, so flooded with awe, +with an overwhelming sense of majesty, that it was impossible to speak. +Presently the girl, obeying an impulse, tore off her turban. Her hair +tumbled over her shoulders, and the wind caught truant strands and made +sport of them.</p> + +<p>Through the night they traveled; traveled until the high walls broke up +into lower ridges and ravines; until the moon rolled over the peaks and +into oblivion, and the stars passed, as tapers that grow dim and die. +The gorge opened its mouth into a valley that lay between green, +snow-tipped mountains. With dawn they came to a halt, and the muleteers +set up the shelters. The girl, tired from the long ride, fell asleep +almost instantly, but Trent sat in front of his tent for nearly an hour, +smoking and gazing into the haze of ruddy gold that hid the City of the +Falcon.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>Looking back upon the journey to Shingtse-lunpo, Trent saw it in a +series of pictures—the days painted with vivid, glaring pigments, the +nights pasteled in blended hues. It was not the Tibet of his +imagination, the Tibet of drear, waterless stretches shut in by +bastioned mountains, unscalable, snow-helmeted guards. True, for two +days after the passing of the Chino-Tibetan divide and the Mekong (they +were swung across this great river, at a giddy height, on a rope bridge) +bleak ranges lifted themselves in heaps of purple and dun, crowned with +flame as the sun gilded their snowy ramparts; but after that the ground +was mildly undulating—nullahs and hills and thin forests.</p> + +<p>The fourth day marked their entrance into a country of little +vegetation, a world of dull tints—those lifeless shades of brown found +in a camel's coat. The earth was sterile; even the sky seemed +unyielding, an aching womb of light. Fine dust settled upon the body and +in the nostrils and throat.</p> + +<p>Of people they saw comparatively little. The villages generally +consisted of a huddle of houses close to a spur of ground, upon the +highest point of which a lamasery perched, like a <i>lämmergier</i> hovering +over mulch and decay. The lamas, Trent learned, were of the Yellow Cap +Order—a sullen, suspicious lot.</p> + +<p>Trent tried, whenever it was practicable, to avoid human beings; he was +not so much afraid of the penetrability of his own disguise as that of +the girl. The caravans they encountered now and then—strings of men and +mules and yaks—were a constant dread to him; not the Tibetans (they +were a careless, friendly type, these men and women of Kham), but the +priests who usually accompanied them. In every instance the lamas +inquired through Kee Meng the destination of the pack-train.</p> + +<p>The wind was usually chilling, except at midday when the earth quivered +behind a brassy curtain of mirage and the glare of sunlight on +quartz-like rocks was blinding. Sunset—a phenomenon of Tibet—was a +source of never-ending wonder to both Trent and Dana Charteris. It +flared in five distinct bars, like a crimson aurora, and died away when +dusk swept a mauve brush across the west. Nightfall brought bitter +winds. Stars glittered coldly, points of whitest flame; and when the +moon came out it glistened like an icy planet reeling through space.</p> + +<p>Trent grew to trust Kee Meng and his comrades—to a degree. It was a +common occurrence for him to catch one or the other stealing from the +provisions, and more than once he discovered gold and turquoise +ornaments filched from a temple in some village where they remained +overnight. Twice Trent's electric pocket-lamp disappeared, only to be +found each time among the possessions of Kee Meng, who burned with a +steady passion to own it. Trent maintained rigid discipline over his +quartet of genial young brigands, who would have been impossible to rule +otherwise; and whereas they learned he was master of the caravan and to +be obeyed at all times, he could not tear down the walls of instinct +which generations of <i>hung-hu-tzee</i> ancestors had fixed so immovably in +them.</p> + +<p>... The journey wove into a tapestry of monotonous colors stretching +over a loom of many days, and through it all, like a silver thread, ran +his association with Dana Charteris. His every chord of feeling +responded to the age-old symphony of a woman unfolding to a man (the +glorious hymn of the universe).... He knew there were times, after he +had wrapped himself in his blanket for the night, that she wept from +sheer exhaustion, tortured physically by the hard travel and mentally by +the ever-present portent of danger which the very atmosphere seemed to +speak. But not once did he see evidence of it, nor did she complain. +After a day of riding, himself sweaty and caked with dust, his every +sinew strained to the utmost, the moral effect of her presence was a +narcotic.</p> + +<p>Despite the discomforts and the uncertainty of what lay ahead, something +serene came to him out of the silence. He saw it in the girl's eyes, +too—this intangible thing that the far spaces breed in the hearts of +men and that lies slumbering until they have returned to civilization, +where, in the midst of crowded, suffocating cities, it awakens suddenly, +drawing them back to the trackless wastes they once had hated and +cursed. The intense light on the hills; the glow of firelight in the +dusk; the cry of a wolf wavering through the night—they were the small +incidents that would cling to the memory and, later, seem the salient +features of a weird, fascinating scroll of recollections.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Green-roofed temples and whitewashed lamaseries daily became more +numerous. They squatted on every eminence and were habited by +crimson-togaed monks—hundreds of men and boys who rattled +prayer-wheels and muttered "<i>Om mani Padme hums</i>" before greasy idols. +The presence of women in those lamaist communities ceased to be a +novelty; rather, a question. They were not unlovely, in their loose +garments and turquoise-studded bandeaus, but their instinctive hostility +toward any form of ablution disqualified them from meeting Western +standards of beauty.</p> + +<p>Thus the journey wore on, and thus, on the evening of the seventh day, +they camped on the edge of a marshy lake, within view of scarped hills +behind which Shingtse-lunpo, the mysterious, lay.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>CITY OF THE FALCON</h3> + + +<p>Dawn gave birth to a day that for Trent and Dana Charteris was +surcharged with expectancy and apprehension. Ridges broke up the +horizon, hiding the country beyond, as though fate and nature had +conspired to preclude until the last moment a view of Shingtse-lunpo. +Before another night they should be within the walls of the city.</p> + +<p>Just before noon they rode over a crest and saw a high <i>tchorten</i>, or +rock pyramid. Yak-hair tents were pitched at its base, and a band of +men, mounted on white ponies and carrying yellow-pennoned lances, +clattered across the valley to meet them.</p> + +<p>"They are soldiers of the Golden Army," Kee Meng announced.</p> + +<p>As the horsemen drew nearer, Trent could see that they wore +neutral-colored tunics and black leather caps, the latter having a strap +under the chin and a golden, flame-shaped ornament attached to the top. +Gold-hilted swords glittered in black belts, and several of the men +carried queer, ancient-looking guns embossed with turquoise and coral. +They came up in a cloud of dust, like figures riding out of history, and +the leader stuck out his tongue by way of greeting. He examined their +passports and assigned two soldiers—"to accompany us to Amber Bridge," +Kee Meng explained.</p> + +<p>With their escort they rode on toward the heat-twisted, quivering +horizon that, in its very illusiveness, symbolized the uncertainty that +filled both Trent and the girl. Neither spoke, but sat erect on their +mounts, staring steadily, until their eyes ached, into the white +sunlight.</p> + +<p>The hot midday was waning when they reached the top of a shoulder of +ground and looked upon the city. At first it was a long white blur upon +the distant ranges, separated from the plain that surrounded it by a +belt of green; then it assumed shape and form, and they saw it, walls +and golden roofs, floating like a fabulous Atlantis in the liquid +sunlight. A white bulk, seeming the extravagant creation of a mirage, +towered above the walls. Gradually it emerged from the deceptive +heat-waves and stood out, defined, a massive building, dominating the +crenellated heap of masonry at its feet. The city's ramparts were high, +yielding only a glimpse of roof-tops and the buttressed structure that +was silhouetted in blinding white upon the aquamarine sky.</p> + +<p>"The great building," said Kee Meng, "is Lhakang-gompa, of which I told +you—the palace and temple of the Grand Lama."</p> + +<p>As they rode nearer, passing barley fields and isolated groups of +houses, it became evident that the belt of green encircling +Shingtse-lunpo was a marsh. Apparently an outer fortification at one +time stood in the swamp, for piles of broken stone reared themselves at +intervals from the rush-encumbered quagmires, like the bones of a +half-buried and bleaching skeleton. On the edge of the morass, flung +across a stream, was a bridge; a stone causeway, perhaps a mile in +length, linked it with what Trent imagined was the main gate of the city +proper. The bridge itself—"Amber Bridge," Kee Meng had called it—was +of mellowed stone, its enclosing walls supporting a roof glazed with +tiles and inset with great lumps of raw amber. Prayer-flags drooped from +the top.</p> + +<p>Thus Shingtse-lunpo, the City of the Falcon, revealed herself to them +for the first time, like an orient dream-city in the golden noonday.</p> + +<p>As they approached Amber Bridge, two familiar lines sprang into Trent's +mind and repeated themselves over and over:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">With gilded gates and sunny spires ablaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And burnished domes half seen through luminous haze.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the silence, sovereign but for the footfalls of the animals and the +creak of sweaty saddles, he heard the swift breathing of the girl who +rode at his side—saw the wonderment, the expression of fascination, of +awe, that reflected in her face. Brown eyes were deep with mystery.</p> + +<p>At the bridge they were halted by more leather-helmeted guards who, +after glancing at their passports, held a short conversation with the +two soldiers from the outpost, then explained, through the usual channel +of translation, that Trent's caravan would have to remain at Amber +Bridge until the news of their arrival was communicated to "certain +authorities" in the city.</p> + +<p>A soldier dashed off along the causeway, while Trent, vaguely troubled, +allowed his pony to be led into a mud-walled compound at one side of the +road. There he and the other members of the caravan dismounted, and +there they waited, somewhat apprehensive, for over an hour.</p> + +<p>When the messenger returned he was accompanied by a small cortège, all +soldiers but one, who, from his dress, was a dignitary of the city. He +rode a white horse and wore a robe of orange-yellow brocaded silk, its +wide sleeves faced with peacock-blue. A mushroom-shaped hat surmounted +copper-hued Tibetan features. He greeted Trent very graciously in +English and informed him that he was Na-chung, a member of the Higher +Council, that meaning, he explained, those who assisted the Governor. He +said that no doubt it was surprising to hear him speak English, but that +he had learned it from a British officer at Gyangtse, at the time of the +expedition to Lhassa.... His Transparency the Governor, he stated, had +been expecting him for several days and his delay had caused his +Transparency no small concern. Then he looked over Trent's men—and when +his eyes reached Dana Charteris they halted. It was, for Trent, a +breathless moment. But Na-chung smiled amiably and said:</p> + +<p>"I understood there were to be only <i>four</i> caravaneers. You have +<i>five</i>."</p> + +<p>Trent replied that none of the four assigned to him at Tali-fang spoke +Tibetan—and how could he travel in Tibet without an interpreter? +Therefore, he had presumed to add another to his caravan....</p> + +<p>Na-chung continued to smile. "I see," he commented. "And this is the one +you added?"—with a gesture toward the girl.</p> + +<p>"No," returned Trent. "This one"—indicating Kee Meng.</p> + +<p>"I see," repeated Na-chung. "We shall go into the city now, to the house +which the Governor has provided for you."</p> + +<p>The incident at Amber Bridge had a depressing effect upon Trent and he +scarcely heard the inconsequential talk of Na-chung as they moved slowly +over the causeway toward the ramparts of Shingtse-lunpo. But when they +passed the gates—formidable, iron-studded affairs, with turrets at +either side—his fears were temporarily thrust into the background. For +the walls of Shingtse-lunpo only hinted at what they enclosed.</p> + +<p>Beyond the main town, which sloped down into a depression and was a +wilderness of narrow streets and dazzling whitewashed houses (some +roofed with blue tiles, others with burnished gold), the ground rose to +the one dominating structure—the Lamasery that stood, sheer-walled, +upon sharply truncated rocks. Its massive bulk—longer than two city +blocks, Trent hazarded—was pierced by row upon row of windows that +seemed no larger than loopholes, and naked walls fell away from torn +roofs and terrace-like additions. There were other large buildings and +tiers of houses, the doors of the upper rows opening upon the roofs of +those below, but they cowered beneath the regal mass of Lhakang-gompa, +an architectural masterpiece that rose at least two hundred feet from +its natural foundations and which Trent could compare only with the +descriptions he had heard of the Potala at Lhassa.</p> + +<p>From the main gate the road cleaved between brick-walled enclosures and +hedges of bamboo. Beggars, ragged, repulsive-looking creatures, whined +at the roadside, and dogs and swine nosed in the black, bubbling mud of +the gutters. Blenching human bones lay beside discolored slabs of stone, +and mailed dragonflies, drawn by the smell of carrion flesh, hovered +near.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>From this filthy quarter they passed over another bridge and into a +highway that lay in the shadows of fortress-like buildings. It was +crowded with tonsured, magenta-robed priests. Mounted soldiers, the +majority in neutral-tinted tunics, but some few wearing royal-blue and +apricot-hued uniforms, threaded across the crimson swarm in a human +shuttle, while men and women in less gaudy apparel moved inconspicuously +through the throng. Yak-hair curtains and prayer-flags drooped from the +windows of houses.</p> + +<p>"You arrived at a time of celebration," said Na-chung. "The Feast of the +Sacred Dance began yesterday. To-day the races were held on the Field of +Ceremonies, and to-morrow will be celebrated by the Dance of the Gods, +wrestling-bouts and the archery contest."</p> + +<p>Na-chung proved most voluble. He talked on as they forsook the crowded +street for a quarter close to the lamasery. The soldiers, who were +leading, opened a gate in a high white wall, and the caravan moved into +a flagged court.</p> + +<p>The dwelling was typical of the better Tibetan residences, low and +flat-roofed, and in the shape of a quadrangle. To the left, beyond a +huddle of out-houses, was a garden. Willow-thorn, clematis +and—hollyhocks! The scarlet flowers, pure flame in the sunlight, gave +something of warming welcome to Trent.</p> + +<p>Na-chung led the way into the house. The main hall was dank, like an +empty cistern, and lighted by an opening in the ceiling, which served a +twofold purpose in that it was also a means of reaching the upper floor. +There were little or no furnishings, and narrow passages, black with +gloom, led off from it.</p> + +<p>"It would be advisable," said Na-chung as he prepared to leave, "that +you do not leave your courtyard; that is, until you have been provided +with proper garments. I shall acquaint his Transparency with your +presence, and in the morning one will be sent to"—the councillor +smiled—"to remove your beard and clothe you as befits a member of the +Higher Council. To-morrow I shall return and accompany you to the Court +of Ceremonies, after which his Transparency will no doubt receive you." +Then, following a pause, "It has been deemed advisable to elevate you to +membership in the Higher Council—for appearances only, as your duties +will be quite different from those of a councillor."</p> + +<p>He took his leave then, and Trent accompanied him into the court. He +observed that Na-chung left two leather-helmeted soldiers at the gate, +whether to act as bodyguards, or to see that he did not leave the +grounds, he could only surmise.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>Trent and Dana Charteris made a thorough inspection of the house. The +rooms were clean, as clean as Tibetan rooms ever are; but the lack of +proper ventilation and the ever-present stale-sweet odors did little to +invite occupancy. From the roof the monastery and a portion of the town +could be seen, and there, in a space protected by the high masonry that +enclosed the housetop, the girl decided to quarter herself, while Trent +chose the room directly beneath.</p> + +<p>Before sundown, while Dana Charteris was overseeing the transportation +of her packs to her elevated abode, Trent sought Kee Meng and found him +in the quadrangle.</p> + +<p>"I am going to place my brother in your charge," he announced. "I will +probably be away from him much of the time, and if anything happens to +him—" He chose to leave the sentence unfinished. (Trent always spoke of +the girl as his "brother," although it was tacitly understood that Kee +Meng knew she was not a man.)</p> + +<p>"<i>Cheulo!</i>" responded the Mussulman. "Henceforth, instead of <i>makotou</i>, +I am Protector-of-the-Brother!"</p> + +<p>"And furthermore," Trent added, "I forbid you, or any of the men, to +leave the grounds without my permission."</p> + +<p>Later (dusk had swooned on Shingtse-lunpo), as Trent entered the main +hall, which was unlighted except for a brass butter-lamp, he beheld a +naked brown ankle and the bottom of a red robe as they vanished into one +of the several black cavities opening upon the chamber. He stopped—then +quickly backing to one side, against the wall, he drew his revolver and +edged toward the passageway. When he was yet a few feet away a round, +blue muzzle leaped out to meet him. As he recoiled, the owner of the +ankle and robe, a lama with a very modern automatic gripped in one slim +hand, stepped out. They stood motionless for a space of seconds, each +with weapon lifted. Then a familiar satanic smile traced itself upon the +yellow countenance—a smile that made the lama look Mephistophelian, +despite his shorn head and hairless features.</p> + +<p>"Kerth"—as Trent lowered his revolver, smiling. "Always at +pistol-point...."</p> + +<p>"I was beginning to feel uneasy about you," said Euan Kerth, as their +hands met. "It was a relief when I saw your pack-train ride in to-day. +Where can we go to talk—the garden? I came that way."</p> + +<p>They left the house by a black-dark corridor, making their way into the +grove of willow-thorn. Bright stars peered down through the branches, +and the moon, floating above the white wall, reflected a faint, hazy +light among the shadowy trees.</p> + +<p>"I'd almost given you up," Kerth began, halting in the gloom beside the +wall. "You were due over a week ago."</p> + +<p>Trent had been debating with himself since the meeting in the house. Now +he spoke; told Kerth of Dana Charteris; of the meeting in Calcutta and +the subsequent happenings. Kerth saw a story within a story and surmised +certain things that Trent omitted. He was silent for a while after the +latter finished.</p> + +<p>"It complicates matters, of course," he ventured discreetly, at length, +"yet ... hmm ... no, you had no alternative. She had nerve, all right; +how many women would have dared to do that? Damn these meddling police +agents! If it hadn't been for her brother.... Hmm—and he had the Pearl +Scarf!" A pause. "D'ye think Sarojini knows of her presence?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Charteris? How could she?" Then Trent explained how he had +exchanged muleteers at Tali-fang.</p> + +<p>"Good!" exclaimed Kerth. "Good! That's a score against Sarojini. She'll +raise thundering hell when she learns of it, but I think you can tame +her—yes, you can do it."</p> + +<p>"But tell me what happened at Myitkyina"—this from Trent.</p> + +<p>The other shrugged. "Oh, nothing much. I had suspected we were headed +for Tibet since I learned the character of the god on the symbol of the +Order—yet this"—he made a gesture intended to include the city—"well, +this is a bit beyond my imagination."</p> + +<p>Briefly he then sketched his activities at Myitkyina.</p> + +<p>"I followed you and Da-yak to the river that night, then downstream in +another boat. After you had landed, and your servant, Tambusami, in +another boat, I swam ashore. There was one fellow waiting with the +boats, so I slipped up behind him.... After that it wasn't difficult. I +exchanged clothing with him and waited. Sarojini Nanjee, dressed as a +Kachin, returned in a few minutes, and with her, Da-yak, Tambusami and +the boatmen. She and the Kachins took one of the craft downstream, I +suppose to her camp, and Da-yak and your bearer got into the other +boat—the boat where I was waiting. I'd sent a note to Warburton, the C. +O. at Myitkyina, and he was waiting at the landing with several Gurkhas. +We didn't have any trouble arresting them; the trouble came when we +tried to force them to speak. All summed up, what they said was +surprisingly little. Tambusami declared he was simply a servant and knew +nothing about the Order, except that it existed. But Da-yak told where +you had gone, and said there were three men in Myitkyina who knew the +trail to Tali-fang. One of them I later hired. Da-yak said that up until +a year ago he had a shop in the bazaar at Shingtse-lunpo, which he +described as 'a great city where many lamas live'; that he was commanded +by a Grand Lama to go to Myitkyina and establish a business. He was +instructed to obey all who came to him with a certain symbol—the symbol +of the Order. He swore he knew nothing of the Falcon or the jewels."</p> + +<p>Kerth paused; peered into Trent's face; smiled.</p> + +<p>"You're thinking just as I wish you to think," he observed; then went +on: "Meanwhile, I'd reported the place in Calcutta and it had been +raided. What happened I don't know. I was ready to start for +Shingtse-lunpo the day after you left, but of course Delhi waited a +couple of days to telegraph permission—and I was glad enough to get it +then, for I was half afraid the Viceroy would refuse to let me go into +Tibet. At Tali-fang I learned you hadn't passed and I left a +message—you received it?... Eighteen days later I was inside the walls +of Shingtse-lunpo—and paying homage to his Holiness Sâkya-mûni, the +Buddha reincarnated."</p> + +<p>"You mean," Trent interrogated, "there's a lama here who's supposed to +be a reincarnation of Buddha?"</p> + +<p>Kerth nodded. "That's his palace"—indicating Lhakang-gompa. "Oh, we've +stumbled into a jolly little nest! It'll take your breath when I tell +you everything. This—Shingtse-lunpo—is everything that Lhassa was, and +a hundred things that Lhassa never could be, with Lhassa's secretiveness +and holiness intensified to the nth degree. It's the—well, I suppose +one might call it the secret capital of the Lamaist hierarchy. From all +I can learn, it hasn't always had the great significance and power that +it has now; until a few years ago it was simply the home of a Grand Lama +who ranked with the Tarnath Lama. Nobody knew of it, because explorers +haven't covered this part of Tibet; the nearest anybody ever came to +this particular strip of territory was some time ago when a naturalist +made his way into Kham, and again, later, when an American doctor went +to a place called Chiamdo.... They say the Dalai Lama actually hid here, +in Lhakang-gompa (which, incidentally, is a facsimile of the Potala at +Lhassa, which I saw with the Mission) before he went to Urga. But that's +monkish gossip.... At any rate, here's how I interpret affairs from all +I've heard:</p> + +<p>"After the Mission was sent to Lhassa the Dalai Lama lost a certain +amount of prestige. The authority of the Tashi Lama, as you probably +know, is more spiritual than temporal. Englishmen had been to Lhassa and +to Tashi-lunpo; therefore, both of their holy-of-holies had been +profaned. The lamas—that is, the hierarchy—were losing their hold on +the people. All that was before nineteen-twelve. Then the President of +China restored Tubdan Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, to Lhassa. But even that +failed to revive the old zeal. So a <i>coup d'état</i> was planned. A Grand +Lama had a made-to-order vision in which he saw the soul of Gaudama +Siddartha descend into the body of one of the abbots. From that moment +the abbot was Sâkya-mûni, Buddha reincarnated, and they installed him in +Lhakang-gompa, here in Shingtse-lunpo, the secret city <i>par excellence</i> +of Tibet. Lhassa and the Dalai Lama became figureheads—'to fool the +British,' as one priest put it to me. The monasteries of Sera, Debung +and Gaden, hotbeds of political intrigue in the time of the Dalai Lama +and the Buriat, Dorjieff, were no longer powerful, but subservient to +Lhakang-gompa. I understand the Tashi Lama objected to all this, but the +Yellow Caps over-ruled him.... So now Sâkya-mûni, with the Lamaist +hierarchy behind him, is supreme pontiff of the Church—and +Lhakang-gompa is the Vatican, as it were, from which he rules Tibet and +practically all of Mongolia, with certain <i>sub rosa</i> wires that give him +power in Nepal, Sikkhim, Bhutan and parts of China."</p> + +<p>Trent was staring up through the branches at the stars, but as Kerth +stopped he looked down and asked:</p> + +<p>"Didn't you say you had an audience with him?"</p> + +<p>Kerth's shaven skull nodded. "Yes. The Living Buddha wears a veil at all +ceremonies—too holy for mortal eyes, I fancy. Of course the Grand Lamas +have seen his face, but in the presence of the laity he is always +veiled. I attended what might be called pontifical mass. In company with +a number of pilgrim priests—at Shingtse-lunpo for the Feast of the +Sacred Dance—I was conducted through a veritable labyrinth in the +monastery and to a huge cathedral-like place. Sâkya-mûni, in yellow +robes and with a golden veil over his face, sat on a throne at one end. +Many cardinals and high officials were there, including the Great +Magician of Shingtse-lunpo. After the ceremony the Living Buddha +murmured something about '<i>Om, Ah, Hum</i>' and blessed a lot of red +scarves, or <i>katags</i> as they're called, and distributed them among the +pilgrim priests. Then we left."</p> + +<p>In the pause that followed Trent inserted:</p> + +<p>"What of the jewels?"</p> + +<p>Another shrug from Kerth. "If they're in Shingtse-lunpo, they are well +hidden and their presence isn't widely known."</p> + +<p>"Yet—" But Trent checked himself.</p> + +<p>"Yet Sarojini Nanjee said they were here," Kerth finished up. "I know +it. The fact that I haven't learned anything about them doesn't mean +they aren't here."</p> + +<p>"And you haven't seen Sarojini?"</p> + +<p>"If I did, it was without my knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Or—Chavigny?"</p> + +<p>Kerth laughed quietly. "If I didn't <i>know</i> he existed, I'd believe him a +myth. No, I haven't seen Chavigny, nor heard of him, for that matter, +since I entered the city. But that's not queer, for if he were here he +wouldn't advertise the fact."</p> + +<p>Trent motioned toward the lamasery. "Do you suppose he had a hand in the +jewel affair?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Sâkya-mûni? If not, why were the gems brought to Shingtse-lunpo? +And remember: a <i>Grand Lama</i> sent Da-yak to Myitkyina."</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"I agree with you," Kerth cut in, anticipating him. "It <i>is</i> +preposterous. It's evident that Chavigny has the alliance of the lamas, +but how did he get it? I haven't told you the strongest link in that +chain yet. You'll recall that a Grand Lama from a Tibetan monastery +emulated the example of the Tashi Lama and made a pilgrimage to the +Sacred Bo-tree at Gaya just about the time the gems were stolen?"</p> + +<p>Trent's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," continued Kerth, reading the other's thoughts. "I believe +the lamas who pilgrimaged to Buddh-Gaya carried the jewels out of +India. I have foundation for this theory, too. Since my arrival here +I've learned that a number of the monks who went on that pilgrimage were +from Shingtse-lunpo—and they haven't returned yet!"</p> + +<p>Trent was subconsciously following a detached idea. He remembered that +the priests were at Gaya on the night Manlove was murdered, and if their +purpose was that suggested by Kerth, it furnished a reason for Chavigny +being there....</p> + +<p>"Nor is that all I know," Kerth resumed. "Caravan-loads of rifles have +been brought here from Mongolia—<i>Russian</i> rifles—also gunpowder and +dynamite. They're stored in the armory under the monastery. Has that any +significance to you?... Trent, we may yet bring down a brace of birds +when we only expected to pot one.... I'm more than a little concerned +with Sarojini Nanjee; I can't adjust her with this business. What are +her secret strings that give her so much power? What can she expect to +do alone? She has a trump card up her sleeve, mark my words. She's no +fool, and I'd feel deucedly better if I were certain she was going to +play that card for us."</p> + +<p>"She promised," Trent reminded.</p> + +<p>Kerth smiled wryly, but the smile passed quickly.</p> + +<p>"Captain Manlove?" he queried. "You've learned nothing?"</p> + +<p>Trent shook his head. The silence after that was heavy. Kerth ended it.</p> + +<p>"I can't stay any longer now. I'm cultivating the abbot of one of the +lesser monasteries, with the view of eventually being assigned to a cell +in Lhakang-gompa. I've a suspicion I'll find something of interest +there, if I ever get in. I daresay you're scheduled to witness the +ceremonies to-morrow, so I won't have an opportunity to see you until +to-morrow night, but I'll return then, about this hour." He extended his +lean hand. "Here's luck to you!"</p> + +<p>"The same," Trent responded with a smile, gripping his hand. "How'd you +get in?"</p> + +<p>Kerth indicated the wall. "Give me a lift, will you?"</p> + +<p>Trent clasped his hands, and, by stepping into the foothold thus formed, +Kerth was able to grasp the top of the wall and draw himself up. There +he sat for a moment, looking below on the other side; then, with a wave +of farewell, he dropped from sight.</p> + +<p>Trent returned to the house, passing the muleteers who were gathered +about a fire in the quadrangle, and climbed to the roof. Dana Charteris +was there—but asleep. For a space of seconds he stood looking down at +the slim form. Her head was pillowed upon one arm and utter weariness +lined the features that were revealed in the moonlight—pale, starry +features. He felt a warm rush of sympathy, a moment when he loathed +himself for having brought her into danger.... He turned away, moving +quietly to the shaft.</p> + +<p>At the top of the ladder he paused. The city lay before him, patches of +gloom and shadow, beneath the dark bulk of the lamasery. To think that +there, among those huddled buildings, was a key to the riddle—a +solution that would dispel the nebulous clouds, perhaps clear the +mystery of Manlove's death!</p> + +<p>A wave of the old bitterness swept up through him; swept up and cast his +features into a mold of grim resolution.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>The next morning Trent told Dana Charteris of his talk with Euan Kerth; +also, that Kee Meng was to be her bodyguard.</p> + +<p>"But surely I can leave the compound?" she objected. "I would like to +see the festival to-day—and, oh, it would be frightful here, waiting, +with nothing to do! I'd worry about you every moment, yet with something +to distract me ... don't you see?"</p> + +<p>He considered a long time before he decided.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it wouldn't be wise. There's no accounting for what might +happen, and then...." He made a movement as though to furrow his hair, +but instead passed his hand over his turban. "I'm sorry, but the risk is +too great. You won't go, will you?"</p> + +<p>She promised.</p> + +<p>Shortly before noon Na-chung, accompanied by his escort, arrived. The +Tibetan superintended the transformation of Trent from a Hindu merchant +to a lamaist dignitary. It was after one o'clock when the Englishman, +shaved and dressed like Na-chung—orange-yellow robe, mushroom hat and +all—mounted a pony in the quadrangle, and, with the councillor at his +side and a file of helmeted soldiers behind, clattered away from the +house. As he passed out of the gate he looked back for a glimpse of Dana +Charteris, but did not see her. A vague sense of unrest enclosed him.</p> + +<p>Toward Lhakang-gompa they rode, through swarms that pressed eagerly in +the direction of the monastery. Prayer-flags were festooned from house +to house, and women sat by the roadside selling dried fruit and +sweetmeats.</p> + +<p>In the very shadow of the monster building, where the rocks fell away +from its base, they dismounted. The serrated façade piled itself above +them in a series of inward-sloping ledges, reaching a shuddersome height +before it met the helium-like blaze of golden roofs. The soldiers +remained with the horses, while Na-chung led Trent through a gate and a +courtyard—the latter a veritable abyss between the main building and +outer walls—and into a dark corridor that reeked with rancid odors.</p> + +<p>Thus began a journey that carried them through dim chambers and black +halls; through cloisters heavy with incense and faintly lighted rooms +where lamas, sitting before prayer-wheels, murmured passages from +Buddhist scriptures; through courts that were cool and sunk deep in the +shadow of lofty walls; until, at length, they came out into bright +sunlight.</p> + +<p>At first the intense glare stung Trent's eyes, but gradually he became +accustomed to it and saw that they had emerged on the other side of the +lamasery and were upon a gallery overlooking a huge amphitheater. He +hazarded a guess that it measured about half a mile around. An incline +led down from the gallery, between rows of seats and stalls, and along +this slanting aisle and into a box close to the immense center court +Na-chung conducted him. There, seated on cushions beside the councillor, +he had an opportunity fully to absorb the bewildering spectacle.</p> + +<p>Tier after tier of stalls and terraced seats were packed against the +retaining walls. Marquees of striped silk, flying maroon and +flame-colored flags, had been erected around the edge of the arena. In +the far end stood a gilded, silk-draped proscenium, and raised upon it, +under a gold-fringed canopy, was a daïs. On either side of the platform, +herded together and kept within their boundaries by guards armed with +halberds, were hundreds of lamas—patches of cinnabar-red. At the left +of the arena, starkly silhouetted upon the walls, was a line of stakes; +their purpose puzzled Trent. Every available space, except the vast +center-court and the proscenium, was crowded with richly dressed +onlookers. There were Tibetan dukes and duchesses, the turquoise-studded +aureoles of the latter gleaming like blue fire; soldiers and government +dignitaries; high lamas wearing saffron vestments, and novices in red +togas; pilgrims from Ladak, Nepal, Sikkhim, Bhutan, Kham and Mongolia; +men and women garbed in silks and satins and decked with jewels. The +many-hued robes and the colored banners and standards—gold, cerise, +ocher, lavender-blue and neutral-tint predominating—were like vivid +splashes on a giant palette.</p> + +<p>The box where Trent and Na-chung sat was one of a row that was occupied +by men in the orange-yellow robes and mushroom hats of the Higher +Council. Many of these bronze-faced dignitaries were accompanied by +women in maroon garments and silver coral-adorned aureoles. Inquisitive +eyes were turned toward Trent and Na-chung, and the latter bowed and +smiled.</p> + +<p>"Yonder," explained the Tibetan, indicating a long carpet of imperial +yellow that dazzled from a flight of stone steps at one side of the +arena to the proscenium in the remote end, "is where His Holiness will +walk. And that"—inclining his head toward a nearby stall where a +prelate in claret-colored garments sat in the midst of shaven-pated +satellites—"is the Great Magician. It is rumored that he and His +Holiness have—er—had some misunderstanding."</p> + +<p>Thus he gossiped while Trent, searching the ranks of the laity below for +a familiar face and aware of something imminent and compelling in the +subdued buzzing of many voices, listened only half attentively.</p> + +<p>Without warning a trumpet gave voice to a blast. It seemed to inject a +sudden thrill into the atmosphere. Trent felt his muscles grow tense, +and involuntarily his eyes sought the broad stone stairway.</p> + +<p>At the top yak-hair curtains parted for a moment and a group of heralds +bearing long copper horns filed out. Came another blast, monstrously +loud. A shout rose from the multitude; died. Trent heard a faint, minor +chant—coming from behind the yak-hair curtains, he imagined. When this +intoning ceased, trumpets blared again; the curtains at the stairhead +parted.</p> + +<p>Hushed expectancy shut down like a tangible weight. The rapid play of +sunlight on lances and bare blades, on burnished helmets and golden +accoutrements, seemed a visible manifestation of the feverish intensity +that charged the throng. The majority were standing with bowed heads; +some had prostrated themselves. Anticipation transfigured every face.</p> + +<p>Then the head of the pontifical procession came into view.</p> + +<p>Leading were the lictors, with lamaic emblems; then acolytes with golden +censers and chalices. They moved slowly down the steps and along the +yellow carpet. Following them strode the secular lords and +cardinals—bronze-faced prelates in rich, deep-yellow robes and yellow +mitres. Laymen marched at their heels, carrying silken cushions.</p> + +<p>And toward the rear, beneath a golden state-umbrella, attended by Grand +Lamas of the Gelugpa, walked the reincarnation of Gaudama Siddartha, His +Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naksang Sâkya-mûni, the Yellow Pope of Tibet. He +bore the insignia of his pontifical rank in one hand, in the other a +rosary. A mitre was set upon his head. From beneath this peaked hat fell +a golden veil that shimmered in the sunlight and blended with the +yellow-gold pallium and wide stole that hung from his shoulders.</p> + +<p>The living deity moved slowly over the yellow carpet; mounted the +proscenium; sank cross-legged, hands folded, like a Buddha, upon the +daïs.</p> + +<p>Banners and standards were lifted in salute above the countless faces +that blurred against the terraced seats. A detachment of soldiers in +lavender-blue uniforms and brazen helmets clattered out of a door in the +arena and formed a line in front of the gilded proscenium. Flash of +sunlight on helmets and lifted lances; gleam of wrought gold and brazen +accoutrements; a rippling play of gold. Then horses were wheeled, and +the Tibetan cavalry trotted out of the arena.</p> + +<p>Sâkya-mûni removed his mitre. Which proved a signal for the ceremonies +to begin.</p> + +<p>A clarion blare announced a new group of lamas—priests wearing white +robes and hideous masks, representing mythological demons. They paid +obeisance to the supreme pontiff and gathered at one side of the +proscenium. After them came other lamas, in golden harness and mantles +the flame hue of nasturtiums.</p> + +<p>"They are the ancient warriors," explained Na-chung to Trent. "And +those"—waving his hand toward another group that was debouching from a +gateway below the tiered seats—"are the contestants in the wrestling +matches."</p> + +<p>The sinewy Tibetan gladiators saluted Sâkya-mûni. They wore only pelts +of snow-leopards girded about their hips. Their skin, between knees and +throat, was surprisingly fair. The wrestling tourney lasted for over two +hours. Na-chung explained every detail to Trent who, toward the end of +the lengthy show of physical skill, was growing weary of it. Too, his +eyes ached from looking so long and steadily at the sunlit expanse.</p> + +<p>When the wrestlers left the arena, hidden drums rumbled—throbbed out a +tuneless miserere. Cymbals clashed metallically. A discordant blast of +the trumpets whipped the air and a lama wearing a frightful mask with +yak-horns upon it and tiger-skins flapping over his yellow robes moved +toward the proscenium. He held a skull-bowl above him. Suddenly he +paused and dashed its contents to the flagging, where it spread in an +ugly crimson pool. Another burst of trumpets accompanied this.</p> + +<p>"It is the Dance of the Gods," Na-chung told Trent.</p> + +<p>A faint light showed itself in the councillor's eyes. Trent saw the same +glow in the eyes of those around him—a glimmer of fanatical zeal.</p> + +<p>The white-robed lamas danced into the center of the arena; whirled +about, making strange signs; swayed to the monotonous <i>boom-booming</i> of +the drums. The priests garbed as ancient warriors joined in, their +nasturtium-hued mantles and golden harness aquiver like sinuous flames. +As the dance continued, pilgrims frequently leaped up and prostrated +themselves, intoxicated with a mystical vintage. Even Trent was not +immune to infection. The drums throbbed against his heart and temples; +throbbed and throbbed, until they seemed the pulse of a dull delirium.</p> + +<p>The Dance of the Gods was interminably long and, after a while, lost its +hypnotic power over Trent. The sun, a globe of angry red, was rapidly +spinning into the west and a blood-shot sky flamed above the arena when +the evil spirits were exorcized—for that, Na-chung explained, was the +story told by the performance—and the dancers melted into the throngs +of priests on either side of the proscenium.</p> + +<p>"Now comes the Archery Contest," announced the councillor, a repressed +gleam in his eyes. "It is the great event of the celebration—a +demonstration of justice."</p> + +<p>Even as he spoke, trumpets were blown. From behind the yak-hair curtains +emerged a small body of men in golden chain-mail and helmets. (The armor +and headgear interested Trent. Here were relics of the ancients—of +Srong-tsan-gambo and the early Tibetan kings.) The rays of the sun +reflected a dull radiance in the meshes of their armor; sent needles of +fire weaving along the contours of gilded bows and quivers; glittered in +blood-red and gold upon polished helmets.</p> + +<p>"They belong to the guard of his Transparency the Governor," said +Na-chung.</p> + +<p>The archers lifted their bows in salute to the Living God. A visible +ripple of admiration passed around the amphitheater. Heads were strained +forward, eyes focussed upon the mailed bowmen, who aligned themselves on +the right side of the arena—facing the black stakes. There was +something pregnant and potent in their movements....</p> + +<p>From a gateway opposite the archers rode a double file of soldiers. +Between them walked a line of men in dun-colored garments. As Trent saw +that they were manacled a frightful suspicion fastened upon him. With +dreadful suddenness the purpose of the stakes became apparent....</p> + +<p>The bowmen stood motionless; only their chain-mail seemed possessed of +life. It glittered and crawled with scaly scintillations, like the +corrugated armor of a dragon.</p> + +<p>At the stakes the soldiers drew up; dismounted. One of the manacled men +screamed and gibbered as he was being bound—sounds that were like +nothing human. Trent turned to Na-chung. The Englishman's face showed no +emotion, but his jaw was thrust forward at an ugly angle.</p> + +<p>The councillor smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>"Their tongues are slit," he informed Trent; then, with a wave of his +hand, he added: "Political offenders."</p> + +<p>Trent, his features cast in a mold that for sheer inscrutability would +have rivalled that of the stoniest idol, turned away—and an instant +later he felt a warm breath upon his ear and heard Na-chung's suave +voice.</p> + +<p>"Thus the Governor punishes treason. Look! There is his Transparency +now."</p> + +<p>A vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair, borne on the shoulders of four +guards, moved through a gateway close to the archers; was placed on the +ground at the end of their stances. The official, visible only as a +crimson blot in the interior, did not rise, but watched the proceedings +from his seat.</p> + +<p>Trent's eyes were drawn back irresistibly to the stakes where the +prisoners were being bound, manacled wrists above their heads. Silence +wrapped the amphitheater about, like tight swathing. To the Englishman, +there was a terrible significance in the undernote of red that the late +afternoon introduced into the scene: the five bars of the blood-red +sunset quivering above the arena and reflecting upon the gilded +proscenium, the deep magenta of the lamas' robes, and the red-gold glint +on harness and naked metal.</p> + +<p>At a signal the archers advanced several paces. Bow-strings were tested; +arrows drawn from quivers.</p> + +<p>A shudder, half of awful ecstasy, half of horror, swept the +amphitheater, like wind rippling the surface of the sea.</p> + +<p>Trent, a nausea spreading from the pit of his stomach to his throat, saw +Sâkya-mûni lift one hand. His lips pressed into a line; otherwise, his +immobility was unbroken.</p> + +<p>Another shiver swept the amphitheater.</p> + +<p>Sâkya-mûni's hand dropped.</p> + +<p>The archers flexed their bows; clapped their heels together; stood +erect. Gutstrings snapped rigid between their nocks.... The +<i>whizz-zz-zz</i> of the arrows seemed to unleash the tension. A hysterical +cheer wavered up from the multitude. The manacled figures sagged, hung, +drenched in the flaming red of the sunset.</p> + +<p>Trent relaxed—but the nausea remained, a dull horror that he could +almost taste.</p> + +<p>Sâkya-mûni rose, as did the multitude. A low chant began, a weird, +droning incantation. The mailed executioners marched out of the arena, +followed by the Governor's vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair. The masked +lamas and those in harness and flame-colored mantles filed toward the +stairway. Lictors and acolytes descended from the proscenium; the +secular lords and cardinals; the Living Buddha and his attendant Grand +Lamas.... Slowly they traversed the yellow carpet, slowly they mounted +the steps and vanished behind the yak-hair curtains. The red monks +herded together on either side of the platform formed human rivulets +that surged into the arena. The onlookers left their seats.</p> + +<p>The Festival of the Gods was over.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>Trent and Na-chung moved up the incline, sifting through the swarm. On +the gallery, at the portal of the monastery, Trent looked back. Dusk was +creeping into the inflamed sky and gray motes subdued the crimson +reflection. Over the heads of the people he saw the arena—saw the +sagging figures starkly outlined upon the white wall.</p> + +<p>Then he plunged into the doorway, behind Na-chung.</p> + +<p>As they re-traveled the labyrinth of corridors and courts, there hung +before Trent a picture of the arena as he last looked upon it—a grim +etching. He had seen men slaughtered in recognized warfare, had seen +prisoners executed, but this—There was something monstrous, something +inexplicably hideous, about it. His failure to understand the uncanny +impression only sharpened the horror. "Their tongues are slit—" +Na-chung's words were written as with steel upon his brain. When men's +tongues are slit it is obviously for the purpose of preventing speech. +What did those wretches know? "Political offenders," the councillor had +said ... yet....</p> + +<p>So ran his thoughts as they emerged at length on the other side of +Lhakang-gompa. Night was swiftly gathering, and a familiar +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair swam in the dusk of the courtyard near +the gate. As Trent drew nearer, a figure in long robes stepped out. He +saw the pale blot of the Governor's face.</p> + +<p>"Ah! It is his Transparency!" exclaimed Na-chung. "He is waiting for +us."</p> + +<p>The Governor stood motionless by his sedan-chair. Not until they were +within three yards of him did he stir—and as he took a step, Trent +experienced a shock that was not unlike a physical blow. But his poise +did not desert him; he only drew a swift breath, which he doubted if the +Governor heard, and a slight smile settled over his features—as though +he had known from the very first that it was Hsien Sgam who rode in the +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair and this meeting was no more than +expected, even anticipated.</p> + +<p>"Hsien Sgam," he said, still smiling.</p> + +<p>The Mongol—he, too, was smiling—bowed. His slender, almost feminine +hands gleamed sharply-cut in the twilight.</p> + +<p>"By that name you first knew me," he replied in the quiet, reserved +voice that Trent remembered so well—a voice that chose each word with +extreme care. "So, my friend, continue to know me as that."</p> + +<p>He wore a dark silk-brocade garment; it looked crimson in the dusk. The +facings were goldcloth, shining dully, and a hat with upcurling brim +surmounted his pale bronze features. One of those curious, vagrant +questions came to Trent as he looked at the Mongol. Was this the +flannel-clad fellow-passenger of the <i>Manchester</i>, he who had talked of +revolutions, of Western vices and morals?... Queer.... There was little +of incongruity about him now, here in his native setting; only the eyes +and face—eyes of Lucifer and face of Buddha. Anomalous, unexplainable, +almost—Trent hesitated at using the term, even in thought; yet why +not?—almost monstrous.</p> + +<p>"I am pleased to welcome you to Shingtse-lunpo," Hsein Sgam announced. +"I regretted very much"—here the sensitive lips quivered in a quick +smile—"that you became impatient and left the joss-house, that night in +Rangoon. It was unpardonable of me to have kept you waiting, yet +unavoidable. I hope to do here what I intended to do there—discuss +certain matters with which you are only partly acquainted." Then, after +a pause, "I trust you find your quarters comfortable?"</p> + +<p>Trent answered with a single word.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to have you accept my hospitality," resumed the Mongol. +"There are many—er—things we must discuss, but I would indeed be rude +if I suggested that we take up those matters so soon after your +fatiguing journey. Perhaps you will do me the honor of calling at my +residence to-morrow night?... I shall send my estimable chief +councillor, Na-chung, to—er—fetch you, as they say in your country."</p> + +<p>And he did a most Western thing; he extended his hand. Trent accepted +it, because he had no choice. For some inexplicable reason he felt a +sudden loathing. In that instant the Mongol seemed, mentally, as +misshapen as his limb. It was like a swift glimpse behind the serene +Buddha-like face, and his touch was a tangible reminder that Hsien +Sgam—Hsien Sgam of the slender hands and sensitive lips—was +responsible for the slaughter that Trent only a short while before had +witnessed. "Thus the Governor punishes treason," Na-chung had said.</p> + +<p>The Mongol spoke, almost with clairvoyance.</p> + +<p>"Doubtless you found in the ceremonies this afternoon a—er—slight +unpleasantness; that is, it would be unpleasant to an Anglo-Saxon." He +smiled. "Public executions, we of Shingtse-lunpo find, are necessary to +bring forcibly to the people the supremacy of the State, and"—the +baffling eyes were more inscrutable than ever—"as an example to those +who contemplate—shall I say, <i>indiscretions</i>?"</p> + +<p>Still smiling, Hsien Sgam limped to the sedan-chair. He entered, without +another glance at Trent, and was borne away on the shoulders of the +guards.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Na-chung. "My men are waiting outside the gate."</p> + +<p>Back through the narrow, crowded streets they rode—streets that were as +chaotic as Trent's brain. The discovery that Hsien Sgam was Governor of +Shingtse-lunpo (and, quite evidently, one of the Order of the Falcon) +swung his main danger from Sarojini Nanjee to the Mongol—or rather, +left him between the two perils. Of the pair, he imagined he could +expect more mercy from the woman. If she and the Mongol were in league, +that doubly jeopardized his position; but if they were opposing +forces.... Well, frequently the third party profits by the rivalry of +the other two. What puzzled him most was why Hsien Sgam had tried to +kill him in Rangoon, if he believed him Tavernake, the jeweler. And +Trent did not doubt for an instant, now, that the Mongol was the +instigator of the bullet that Kerth had intercepted. A warm thrill of +assurance ran through him at thought of Kerth. He had one ally. More, of +course, counting the muleteers and Dana Charteris; but the girl was more +of a liability than an asset, a thorn in his fragile security. If she +were only somewhere else.... But she was not. And her presence troubled +him.</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam, the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo. He smiled inwardly. What was +the Mongol's part in the jewel mystery? He suspected that Hsien Sgam's +talk of a Mongol revolution was a sheath in which his true motive in +luring him to the joss-house in Rangoon lay hidden. Was—?</p> + +<p>"By George!" he muttered, aloud.</p> + +<p>Glancing toward Na-chung, he saw the councillor's questioning look and +made an inconsequential remark, while he asked himself:</p> + +<p>"Is Hsien Sgam ... but no ... yet ... well, why not!... But what of +Chavigny, if he isn't the Falcon!"</p> + +<p>They reached Trent's dwelling-place then. Na-chung halted at the gate, +informing the Englishman that he would leave a guard.</p> + +<p>"As your guide," he explained suavely. "You will wish to go beyond your +quadrangle, and whereas your garments are a passport anywhere in the +city, it is not wise for you to venture out alone—yet." He smiled. "You +see, the fact that you do not speak our language, and that my people are +unfortunately suspicious, might prove ... you understand? Therefore, I +have instructed the guard to accompany you when you leave the house, as +a purely precautionary measure. His Transparency the Governor also +wishes me to present to you the pony which you are riding, as a slight +token of his esteem."</p> + +<p>Trent thanked him and Na-chung clattered away, followed by his retinue +of soldiers.</p> + +<p>As one of the muleteers took Trent's mount, he looked about the +quadrangle for Dana Charteris.</p> + +<p>"Where is my brother?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The muleteer muttered a few unintelligible words.</p> + +<p>"Where?" Trent repeated.</p> + +<p>The Oriental looked as though he expected Trent to strike him, as he +answered:</p> + +<p>"He left the house—this morning—soon after you did, <i>Tajen</i>."</p> + +<p>"Alone?" He snapped out the question.</p> + +<p>"No, <i>Tajen</i>; Kee Meng went, too."</p> + +<p>"Where? Do you know?"—this with a frown.</p> + +<p>"To the festival, <i>Tajen</i>."</p> + +<p>Trent stood motionless. The frown disappeared as he remembered that he +had ridden from the amphitheatre; they, being on foot, would be later in +coming.</p> + +<p>"Send Kee Meng to me as soon as he returns," he rapped, and entered the +dwelling.</p> + +<p>When a half-hour had gone by and Dana Charteris and Kee Meng had not +come, the frown returned to Trent's forehead; returned and stayed; and +deepened into furrows when another thirty minutes did not bring them. He +went up on the roof to smoke and to be alone; and he paced the stones, +drawing nervously upon the amber stem and confessing to himself that he +was alarmed.</p> + +<p>His heart beat a swift symphony of anticipation when he heard the gate +open. Without looking over the roof-wall, he hurried below. As he +stepped into the quadrangle and beheld the limp figure that was being +supported by two muleteers, fear sank its talons into him.</p> + +<p>The sound of his footsteps brought the limp figure up with a visible +effort. He thrust back the two men; took a step; dropped on his knees +before Trent.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen!</i>" whispered Kee Meng. "<i>Tajen</i>, I swear by Allah that—"</p> + +<p>Trent gripped his shoulders. His right hand encountered moisture; he saw +a stain.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he demanded, his muscles bound in a rigor of dreadful +apprehension.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen</i>, as we were coming from that—that devil dance, the brother and +I.... We were in a street no wider than this"—painfully he lifted his +hands in illustration—"and they jumped on us from behind—"</p> + +<p>"Who did?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know, <i>Tajen</i>; but I think they were lamas. They struck me +from behind—and as I lay there I heard the brother scream—and I.... +They stabbed me, <i>Tajen</i>. I saw black for a long while, oh, a very long +while! When I woke up I was lying in the gutter. The brother—he was +gone! I was hurt; but I knew you would kill me if I returned without +looking—so I hunted—until I spilled my blood over the city and had +none left to keep me alive. Then I came—came back!"</p> + +<p>He sank in a huddle at Trent's feet.</p> + +<p>"Kill me, <i>Tajen</i>," he moaned. "The brother—how could I refuse when he +told me to go with him to...? But kill me—I am not worth the—" His +voice broke; he was still.</p> + +<p>Trent bent swiftly. After a moment he stood erect.</p> + +<p>"Carry him inside," he directed the muleteers. "It isn't a bad wound; +he's weak from loss of blood."</p> + +<p>The two yellow men stooped and picked up the unconscious Kee Meng. As +Trent entered the house behind them the putrid odor of butter-lamps +assaulted him, sickened him. The blow had come with a maiming force. He +felt suddenly crippled.</p> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<p>When Trent had dressed Kee Meng's wound he returned to the roof, to his +pipe and the stars. The spot seemed a lone haven of cleanliness, raised +above the malefic atmosphere of the city.... To think—to decide what to +do. He told himself that over and over as he paced the stones. His +hands, figuratively, were tied. There was no one to whom he dared +appeal—none save Kerth, and the two of them might search for days in +the labyrinth of the city without even finding a clue. Meanwhile, Dana +Charteris was in danger—a danger that was more frightful because of the +indefiniteness of its character. There was but one explanation for her +disappearance: either Sarojini Nanjee or Hsien Sgam had discovered her +sex and had taken steps to place her where she was likely to cause the +least trouble ... and where she might prove a weapon.</p> + +<p>He smoked on, pipe clamped between his teeth, striding the length of the +housetop. The stars saw what few men had ever seen—Arnold Trent +stripped of his mask, his citadel of impassivity beaten down. A great +hollow infinity seemed to press upon him and quench the very breath from +his lips. He came to understand a new emotion—the agony of separation. +The scales of unreason weighed values, and an alien recklessness urged +him to forsake the sovereign motive for his presence in Shingtse-lunpo +and with one mighty effort break the bonds that held him to a discreet +course. Did not duty toward flesh transcend duty toward the +inanimate?... Thus the lover's litany—a beautiful heresy.</p> + +<p>But all this ache, longing, and unreason only carried him about in a +circle; and from these purposeless revolutions the memory of her, a +continuous glow in the dimness, led him into patience, to a mastery of +himself. There were lines in his face—the mellow writing of anguish. It +was as though he had partaken of the eucharist of suffering and from the +bitter sacrament had come quiescence.</p> + +<p>With the first easing of the tension came a plan. It broke upon him +suddenly. If Sarojini Nanjee had abducted Dana Charteris, he could only +rely upon his wits to free her; but if it was Hsien Sgam—His plan was a +counter-blow at the Mongol in the event he was responsible for the +girl's disappearance. It was a bold play, and if he failed....</p> + +<p>As he heard a soft footfall, he swung about toward the shaft. A figure +emerged—one of the muleteers.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen</i>, a lama is below," he announced. "He came over the garden wall. +He says he would speak with you."</p> + +<p>"Send him up here," directed Trent.</p> + +<p>Several minutes later a shaven skull projected itself above the black +opening in the roof, and Kerth, in his lama robes, stepped out. There +was something reassuring in the sight of him. A white man! That alone +was a moral fire in which to forge his resolution.</p> + +<p>Kerth listened in silence while Trent recounted what had happened and +told of his plan.</p> + +<p>"I know of a place to conceal him," Kerth announced, when Trent had +concluded. "It's an old ruin at the other end of the city; and there's a +vault, with a door that will lock. I stayed there the first few days I +was in Shingtse-lunpo. We'll have to strike now—to-night. To-morrow +morning I enter Lhakang-gompa, to serve in one of the cells." He smiled +his satanic smile. "It's my one chance to get at the source of things in +the monastery."</p> + +<p>They descended from the roof—and a few minutes afterward, when Kerth +climbed over the garden wall, he was accompanied by two of Trent's +muleteers. Trent stood in the shadow of the willow-thorn until their +footsteps ceased, then returned to the house to wait.</p> + +<p>He kept vigil in the quadrangle for more than an hour, restless, +impatient. At the first sounds in the willow-grove, he hurried to the +garden and met the two caravan-men.</p> + +<p>"All is well, <i>Tajen</i>," reported one of the Orientals. "The lama bade me +tell you everything happened as planned and that the councillor Na-chung +is hidden in the vault."</p> + +<p>"The lama sent no other message?"</p> + +<p>"He said he wishes you the peace of Gaudama Siddartha."</p> + +<p>Good old Kerth, Trent thought warmly. That was his message of comfort.</p> + +<p>"You have done well," he commended the muleteers. "To-morrow you will +each receive a gift."</p> + +<p>It was near midnight, and the stars had fled before black clouds and a +drizzling rain, when Trent forced himself to lie down. Almost the +instant he relaxed unconsciousness carried him into its dim cathedral, +and he drank of the sleep that deadens even the pains of the dying.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>LHAKANG-GOMPA</h3> + + +<p>From the very midst of slumber Trent was shot into consciousness. He +opened his eyes to find himself submerged in darkness, and to feel +another presence in the black flood. His hand went involuntarily to the +revolver that he kept always within reach, and as he lifted himself upon +his elbow, one hand gripping the weapon, he saw a body silhouetted upon +the grayish rectangle of a window.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tajen!</i>" whispered a voice that he recognized as that of one of the +muleteers. "It is Hsiao. There is a man below.... He told me to be quiet +and not arouse the guard.... He brought this for you."</p> + +<p>A folded sheet of paper was thrust into Trent's hand. The scent of +sandalwood caressed his nostrils and cleared his brain of the last +tangle of drowsiness. He rose and sought his electric torch, which was +in his kit-bag. Snapping on the light, he read the note.... It was +brief; merely instructed him to follow the bearer and was signed by +Sarojini Nanjee.... A glance at his watch showed him it was after two +o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Where is he? In the quadrangle?" Trent queried.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>Tajen</i>."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there directly."</p> + +<p>Trent strapped his revolver to his thigh; procured a certain object from +his pack; went below.</p> + +<p>A thin, misting rain was falling, and the wind swept down in cold +legions from the snows of the North. It was a night to kindle icy flame +in the marrow. Gray gloom lay like a ghoulish lacquer upon the world, +and dogs were howling somewhere in the city.</p> + +<p>Sarojini's messenger was a thin-featured Tibetan with long hair. He +extended a dark bundle to Trent and muttered something in his own +tongue.</p> + +<p>"He says for you to put those on, <i>Tajen</i>," translated the muleteer.</p> + +<p>Unrolling the bundle, Trent saw a long toga and a pair of heavy Tibetan +boots. The latter he pulled on with some difficulty, then threw the toga +about his shoulders.</p> + +<p>The long-haired messenger touched his arm, motioning toward the garden. +Hsiao, the muleteer, accompanied them to the wall, where he lent Trent +his aid in reaching the top. Outside, the Englishman found himself in a +narrow lane that opened upon the street.</p> + +<p>Through ghostly highways they moved. Now and then a dog snarled +viciously and slunk away as the Tibetan kicked at him. They traveled +along constricted streets, some graduated into steps, and past silent, +whitewashed houses that loomed spectral in the night. These +ramifications led them to a stone bridge and a roadway between tall +bamboo and the black blur of trees. Trent could see the city's walls +now, beyond rounded clumps of bushes. From this clustered vegetation +rose a large temple-like edifice whose dome shone dully through the +drizzle.</p> + +<p>A lane branched off from the main road and took them to the gates of the +temple-like building. First, a courtyard, then an imposing doorway. +Within, it was damp and cold. Butter-lamps made a feeble attempt to +disperse rebellious shadows. Monster shapes, which Trent perceived to be +idols, glowed sullenly in the semi-dark.</p> + +<p>A hall with red-lacquered pillars led to a massive portal that was +opened by a brass ring. It swung back, to release the odor of incense +and rancid butter and to admit Trent and the Tibetan into a vast space +that evidently was a temple. Butter-lamps hiccoughed and threw their +reflections upon brazen images and old armor. In the remote end a dull +mass of gold kindled in the temple-dusk, a form that took on the shape +of a huge idol—and from beneath the shining god came a figure of +familiar proportions.</p> + +<p>"Greetings, man of many faces!" said Sarojini Nanjee in her sweet voice, +a voice that rang like the notes of a gong in the ponderous silence of +the temple.</p> + +<p>Trent glimpsed behind her a man in claret-colored vestments. The face +was strongly reminiscent of one he had recently seen, and after a few +seconds recognition flashed into him. He was the one whom Na-chung had +pointed out in the amphitheater as the Great Magician of Shingtse-lunpo. +The woman, seeing Trent's look and misunderstanding it, announced:</p> + +<p>"He knows only Tibetan and Hindustani; that is why I speak English." +Then she added, "He is the third most powerful man in Shingtse-lunpo."</p> + +<p>Trent casually took in Sarojini Nanjee's manner of dress—casually, +because he did not wish to appear particularly interested. She wore a +long maroon garment such as Tibetan women wear; only the lines were not +bulky, but adapted themselves to the purpose of revealing the contours +of her figure. Her skin was darkened by a stain—skin that was quite +unlike that of the women of Shingtse-lunpo in that it was smooth and +without a coat of dust and grease. A silver aureole rose behind her +black hair, which was parted after the Tibetan fashion. A flame, as of +black opals, danced and flashed in her eyes as she smiled at him.</p> + +<p>"I have not sent for you before," she told him, "because it would have +been indiscreet. Too, we could have done nothing until now. I did not +know of your arrival until many hours after you reached the city. I—"</p> + +<p>"You expected my muleteers to report my presence," he put in, smiling.</p> + +<p>She smiled, too, although he could see she was not pleased.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't fancy being spied upon night and day," he replied, "so I left +them at Tali-fang."</p> + +<p>"Do you realize that was disobeying me?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't forbid changing servants." After a pause he went on, "Yet +my precautions were useless, for I daresay by now you know everything +that happened since I left Tali-fang."</p> + +<p>She looked at him quizzically. (And he did not know whether the +expression was genuine or not.)</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"One of my men failed to put in his appearance last night. I naturally +surmised"—this rather drily—"that you detained him to find out what he +knew."</p> + +<p>He was watching her closely, and again that quizzical expression clouded +her eyes. After a moment she smiled queerly.</p> + +<p>"You accuse me of crude tactics," she said; then switched off with: "But +tell me, what have you learned since your arrival?"</p> + +<p>He answered discreetly. "I attended the festival to-day."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I saw you. I was in the Governor's stall. Because of his +vigilance I dared not communicate with you before this. He watches me as +a hawk watches its prey." (Trent wondered if the word "hawk" had any +significance.) "But while the bird sleeps, the cobra goes about its +business.... You have not yet told me what you learned."</p> + +<p>After some deliberation he said:</p> + +<p>"I know of Sâkya-mûni; and I know that monks from Shingtse-lunpo +accompanied the abbot who pilgrimaged to Gaya."</p> + +<p>A second time she nodded. "Do you know what occurred at Gaya?"</p> + +<p>Trent's heart was beating swiftly as he countered:</p> + +<p>"You should know; you were there at the time."</p> + +<p>And his heart beat swifter as she whipped back:</p> + +<p>"Who told you that?"</p> + +<p>Trent was thrusting boldly. He meant to beat down all guards, to win or +lose. The suspense, the groping in the dark, was consuming his +nerve-tissues.</p> + +<p>"Hsien Sgam," he lied.</p> + +<p>A typhoon of rage flashed across her beautiful face. It spent itself +quickly. She opened her lips; closed them; and after a space said quite +calmly:</p> + +<p>"Why did Hsien Sgam tell you that?"</p> + +<p>Trent shrugged. "How do I know?"</p> + +<p>She gestured impatiently. "What question did you ask that caused him to +tell that?"</p> + +<p>Having gone so far, Trent ventured a step further.</p> + +<p>"Captain Manlove, who shared my bungalow at Gaya, was murdered the night +the monks were there. I asked him if he could explain it."</p> + +<p>A queer, cold expression settled upon Sarojini Nanjee's face. Only her +eyes were warm: they burned like melted opals. She smiled—a rather +terrible smile.</p> + +<p>"I had not heard that before, that your friend was murdered," she +announced. "Why did not you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes searched his face; encountered that barrier of impassivity.</p> + +<p>"You say you suspected the monks?"</p> + +<p>"Not until I reached Shingtse-lunpo."</p> + +<p>A pause before she pursued:</p> + +<p>"But why, even then, did you suspect them? What motive—"</p> + +<p>"I'm at loss for a motive," he cut in quietly. "I don't know what to +think, for, you see, I found this"—he drew from under his robe a +glittering object—"in his, in Captain Manlove's, hand."</p> + +<p>He opened the silver-chased pendant and extended it to her. She glanced +at the name graven within; looked up at him. The lids sank over her +eyes—to cover surprise, he imagined.</p> + +<p>"But why," she queried, "did not you tell me of this before?"</p> + +<p>"Because if you lied to me once, I thought it likely you'd lie a second +time. You swore that Chavigny had nothing to do with the Order—yet—" +He motioned toward the piece of coral.</p> + +<p>Her eyes burned with a steady flame.</p> + +<p>"I spoke the truth!" she declared. "Chavigny has nothing to do with the +Order, has had nothing to do with it since several days before your +Captain Manlove was murdered. Oh, I know what you think—that I am lying +now! But, even as I spoke the truth then, I speak it now! Chavigny is +dead—was dead before your friend was killed!"</p> + +<p>Trent took the pendant, avoiding her eyes. It was one of his +idiosyncrasies not to look at a person whom he believed lying to him.</p> + +<p>"Chavigny was intrusted with certain work at Indore," she continued, +"but he ran amuck; tried to steal the Pearl Scarf for himself and +substituted an imitation. A blundering Secret Service agent, who had +followed Chavigny from Calcutta, interfered. I am not aware of the exact +circumstances, but this Secret Service agent came into possession of the +real Pearl Scarf. The Order allowed Chavigny to go to Delhi. There the +substitute was discovered—and Chavigny put out of the way. The Secret +Service agent who had the real jewels was in Delhi, where he had tracked +Chavigny. I was instructed to recover the Pearl Scarf, and I sent my +servant, Chandra Lal, to the hotel where the Government agent was +staying. He got the pearls and—"</p> + +<p>"And you took them to Gaya, to the lamas?" Trent interposed.</p> + +<p>"Did I say that?" she retorted. "What I did with them is no concern of +yours—at present."</p> + +<p>"But you were at Gaya?"</p> + +<p>"I refuse to answer that."</p> + +<p>"But if Chavigny was put out of the way, as you say, how do you account +for this?" he pressed on, extending the pendant.</p> + +<p>"How does one account for the sun, the moon, the stars?" she returned. +"No, I do not know now—but I <i>will</i> know! And you shall avenge the +slaying of your friend! You shall have blood for blood! I, Sarojini +Nanjee, promise that! I will learn the truth—even if I must go to the +Falcon!"</p> + +<p>Trent took that as his cue and asked:</p> + +<p>"Who <i>is</i> the Falcon?"</p> + +<p>She stared at him. "Then you have not seen him?"</p> + +<p>Trent wanted to smile. Without herself realizing it, she had told him +the one thing he wished to know. He had said that he had talked with +Hsien Sgam—and now she asked if he had seen the Falcon....</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, "I have not seen him."</p> + +<p>"You will see him, then," she said quickly, "at the proper time. Minutes +are too precious to spend on explanations now. To-night I shall show you +one of the secrets of Shingtse-lunpo.... Come! You must meet the Great +Magician."</p> + +<p>The high priest of sorcery (whose presence they had for the while +forgotten) greeted Trent cordially in Hindustani, but it was evident +that he was troubled—though the fact that his lips trembled slightly +may have been due to the dampness of the temple.</p> + +<p>Sarojini Nanjee threw a robe about her shoulders and, motioning to +Trent, guided him to one side of the large golden image, to a door that +the Great Magician had opened. Beyond was a courtyard. It was still +drizzling and low black clouds impended. A gate was pushed open by the +high priest and they emerged upon a path that ended at a gate in the +nearby city-walls. If there was a guard, he was discreetly out of sight.</p> + +<p>Outside was a low embankment, then the dark waste of the morass that +girded Shingtse-lunpo. To the west, in the thin veil of rain, was a +shapeless blur that Trent imagined was Amber Bridge. The Great Magician +shut the gate and led the way down the embankment. The ground was not +soggy, as Trent expected, and, straining his eyes, he saw the reason. +They were following a barely visible road through the rushes.</p> + +<p>Toward the shapeless blur they moved. As they drew nearer it became +apparent that it was not Amber Bridge, but a pile of broken stone—a +remnant of the old outer-fortifications—in the middle of the +swamp-belt. When they reached the mass of masonry Trent saw that it was +a portion of a broken wall, rising above nearly obliterated flagstones +that formed the floor of what had once been a room, or a tunnel, under a +mighty rampart—a wall that was hollowed and whose roof had fallen in. +The passage thus formed was not more than three feet in width and ran +for several yards before it ended in a <i>cul-de-sac</i>.</p> + +<p>Into the narrow space between the walls Trent and Sarojini Nanjee +followed the Great Magician. It was damp and smelled of freshly-turned +earth. A few feet from the entrance the Tibetan paused and grunted a +word to Sarojini. Instantly a saber of light smote the darkness, a ray +from a very modern electric torch in the woman's hand. The Great +Magician took the light from her, flashing it into the <i>cul-de-sac</i> and +upon a small stone stairway that plunged into grim depths.</p> + +<p>Down into the bowels of the earth it carried them, into a rectangular +crypt. Blocks of masonry had been torn away from one side of the wall +and an irregular aperture gaped blackly. Trent observed that the stones +had not been removed recently, for they were wedged in mud and grown +with fungi.</p> + +<p>Through the rent in the crypt they passed, entering a tunnel that bored +downward at a gradual incline. The torchlight wavered upon damp, ancient +walls; upon several inches of water in the bottom of the passage. Cold, +earthy odors fouled the air. Before they had proceeded far, loose rocks +rattled underfoot, and Trent, glancing down, saw that he was treading +upon chips and small particles of stone. White dust streaked the muddy +water. This prepared him for the pile of shattered rock that appeared +suddenly ahead, heaped at one side of a crude doorway. All of which +attested to the fact that the passage had at one time been sealed, but +very recently opened—and by men who were not masons.</p> + +<p>The tunnel continued its gradual downward course for what Trent +calculated was at least a mile. If he judged aright they must be +somewhere near the middle of the city. Suddenly the subterranean +corridor made a series of turns, then sloped upward, running straight +after that and bringing them at length into a crypt similar to the one +beneath the swamp-ruins. The smell of oil hung in the air, and Trent +identified it with the iron-bound door at one side. He was surprised to +see that its lock was very modern. (From some shop in Gyangtse or +Darjeeling—thus he conjectured irrelevantly.) The Great Magician +fumbled at the formidable portal, and, following a grating noise, it +swung out soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. Yellow light impinged upon +the darkness of a stairway, on the bottom step of which rested a brass +lamp.</p> + +<p>The priest lighted the lamp, and Sarojini Nanjee, slipping her hand into +Trent's, led the Englishman through the door and up the stairway. +Looking back, Trent saw the Great Magician sink cross-legged upon the +floor; then the picture was shut out as they climbed higher into gloom. +Near the top Sarojini halted and directed the light upward. It swept a +square of stone at the very head of the stairs; the lines where it +fitted into place were scarcely visible.</p> + +<p>"You will have to lift the stone," Sarojini told him, stepping aside.</p> + +<p>He mounted the few remaining stairs and stooped in the meager space at +the top, pressing hands and shoulders against the square of stone. Warm +blood rushed into his stained cheeks as he slowly drew erect, lifting +the stone from place and letting it fall noisily upon the floor above. +The space into which the rock fitted was perhaps three yards around, +widening out at the top. Trent's head and shoulders projected from the +aperture into blackness that was more intense because of the light from +which he had emerged.</p> + +<p>"Pull yourself up," directed Sarojini. "Then I will give you the light."</p> + +<p>He drew himself out of the stairway with little difficulty, clambering +to his knees on the stone floor above and leaning back to receive the +pocket-lamp. As he lifted the light he gained an impression of vastness +and gloom and many indistinguishable objects. Placing the torch on the +floor beside him, he grasped Sarojini's hands and pulled her through the +small space—and she lingered uncomfortably long in his arms, whether +by chance or otherwise, he could only wonder.</p> + +<p>He recovered the torchlight, and the woman took it from him. The ray +cleaved through shadows and stamped a bar of yellow upon a row of oblong +wooden boxes; traveled across more boxes (the latter, Trent observed, +the length of ordinary rifles) and brought into glowing prominence the +slender objects that hung upon the walls. With a quickening of his +heart-beat Trent guessed where they were—for the glowing things were +swords and lances. Piles of armor shone with a repressed gleam on the +floor, and numerous bright shapes outside the intimate radiance of the +light resolved into jeweled pistols such as he had seen in the +possession of soldiers of the Golden Army. But with the boxes he was +mainly concerned; their blank sides intrigued him and challenged his +fancy.</p> + +<p>"We are in the Armory," said Sarojini Nanjee, "under the center of +Lhakang-gompa—not beneath the ground, as you would imagine, but just +below the surface of the rocky eminence where the building stands."</p> + +<p>She let the light rove about the Armory, which was vast and stretched on +four sides into black obscurity. A series of arches and pillars deepened +the mystery; armor and various types of weapons kindled dully against a +background of gloom. There were more wooden boxes in remote corners, +innumerable piles of them.</p> + +<p>"What do they contain?" he inquired, indicating the many boxes.</p> + +<p>As he expected, she lied.</p> + +<p>"How should I know? Armor, I fancy. Yonder"—with a gesture—"is the +entrance from the monastery. Soldiers guard the other side of the +door.... Come!"</p> + +<p>As she led off under the arches and along an aisle between the boxes, +Trent asked himself why stores of explosives and ammunition were hidden +beneath a Tibetan monastery. Perhaps, after all, there was something to +Hsien Sgam's revolution....</p> + +<p>An arched doorway admitted them to a corridor lined with gleaming idols. +Hideous frescoes were painted upon long panels between the images, and +at the end was a massive crimson-stained door. Before one of the panels +Sarojini stopped. The painting was monstrous and pictured a three-eyed +god standing in the midst of skulls and human entrails—a god that Trent +recognized with a start as the one whose image was wrought on the coral +symbol of the Order of the Falcon. At regular intervals on the panel +were four brass rings, each having a long scarlet tassel attached to it.</p> + +<p>Sarojini thrust the torch into Trent's hand and caught one of the brass +rings. She twisted it and tugged, and the panel yielded, sliding to one +side and disclosing a dark cavity in the wall. The woman stepped in +first, Trent following. The recess was not more than fifty feet in +diameter—a square space with frescoed walls. Opposite the entrance, and +upon a lacquered pedestal, was a silver image of Janesseron, the +Three-eyed God of Thunder—and his trio of narrow little orbs looked +down upon the several chests that were pushed against the walls of the +small room.</p> + +<p>"You remember," began Sarojini, "that you were told you would reach +enlightenment by gradations?... Now you stand upon the next to the last +terrace."</p> + +<p>With that she moved to one of the chests; lifted the lid; turned to +Trent.</p> + +<p>"Come closer," she commanded.</p> + +<p>He did. And his eyes met the glitter of gems. And he caught his breath, +for he knew he stood in the midst of the jewels for which he had +penetrated into the forbidden arcanum of Asia.</p> + +<p>"Look," directed the woman, indicating a card attached to the inside of +the small chest. "It is written in Hindustani. See: H. H. Tukaji Rao +Holkar III, Bahadur, Maharajah of Indore!"</p> + +<p>There was a cool, tinkling sound as she drew from the chest a scarf of +pearls—tiny lustrous spheres that shone like miniature moons.</p> + +<p>"For these," she said, "André Chavigny died."</p> + +<p>In the dimness, above the ray of the pocket-lamp, their eyes met, his +expressionless, hers again like black opals. He heard her quick +breathing—felt, as did she, the contagion of the jewels.... In her +hands she held a fortune. Vaguely, irrelevantly, he tried to recall the +sum at which the pearls of Indore were appraised; instead, wondered why +she wished him to believe Chavigny out of the game.</p> + +<p>"Hsien Sgam was the first to show me where the jewels were hidden," she +resumed. "But he did not take me through the tunnel." Again the cool, +musical tinkle as she dropped the pearls into the chest. "We came from +the corridors above the Armory. The possibility of ever making away with +the jewels seemed very meager—until I found out that there was a tunnel +leading from a point somewhere outside the city up into the vaults of +Lhakang-gompa. I learned it from a young layman who was loose of tongue +and eager for <i>tengas</i>—learned also that there had been trouble between +Sâkya-mûni and the Great Magician and that the Living Buddha was +threatening to depose his chief sorcerer. So I went to the Great +Magician...." She shrugged. "The lock is easy to him who knows the +combination; thus with men.... The tunnel had been sealed; but after the +sorcerer's men had worked for five nights that obstacle was removed. The +passage was completely opened yesterday. The fool—the magician—thinks +he will fly with us when we leave and receive a portion of the jewels! +But he will never pass the walls of Shingtse-lunpo after to-night, nor +will he interfere with my plans!"</p> + +<p>Before Trent could ask the question that came to the end of his tongue +Sarojini Nanjee threw back the lid of the largest of the chests, and the +shimmer and flare of gems disconnected thought from speech.</p> + +<p>"The Gaekwar of Baroda," announced the woman, pointing to the card on +the inside of the lid. "This is the Star of the Deccan."</p> + +<p>She clasped a necklace of diamonds about her throat, and the stones +trembled against her skin like spiders of fire.</p> + +<p>"Do not they look well about my neck?" she asked in a repressed voice, +a voice that shook. Then she laughed, but he did not like the symptoms +that underlay it. He gripped himself. The muscles of his throat stood +out, and there was about him the air of a man preparing to do battle.</p> + +<p>Sarojini Nanjee returned the diamonds to the chest. Gems rattled. She +lifted what seemed a fabric of the spun brilliance of the universe—and +a flame swept into Trent's brain. This amazing dazzle, as of cascading +stars, was born of a rug made entirely of pearls, with central and +corner figures of diamonds; a rug that coruscated and blazed as though +its weaver had threaded the shuttle with flame and woven a carpet for +the gods; a rug whose gems were multi-hued little serpents that coiled +about Trent's brain and sank their fangs into his reason.</p> + +<p>The carpet slipped from Sarojini Nanjee's hands and lay in a quivering +heap on the edge of the chest. The fire in her eyes matched that of the +rug.</p> + +<p>"Millions!" she murmured in a husky voice. "Millions!"</p> + +<p>... As one in a dream, Trent saw her hands stretch out to him; felt them +on his arms. The touch sent a shock of warning through his frame. +Involuntarily he stiffened and took a step backward—but the perfume of +her hair, the scent of bruised sandalwood, was in his nostrils and on +his lips and face, like the fragrant breath of the sirocco ... and the +hot mystery of her eyes challenged him to take the caress that her lips +offered. (Of the earth always, this Sarojini Nanjee, with earth's gifts +for men.) A deadly languor locked about him. He was in some +fever-breeding jungle, and she was there, this golden woman, very close +to him....</p> + +<p>A small incident saved him from Attila's fate.</p> + +<p>There came a sound, a gentle rattle and patter, like cool rain upon his +thirsty thoughts. Something seemed to snap in his brain, and he moved +back a pace—and out of the danger zone. He perceived, then, that the +jewel-carpet had slipped from the chest to the floor, thus rescuing him +from the very web that it had contrived.</p> + +<p>Sarojini, too, drew back. Chagrin smothered the fire from her eyes. +Concupiscence in him—her chief weapon—was broken. She saw by the set +of his features that control had returned, and knew that having once +been so close to defeat, he would be thrice as wary as before. She had +lost in this first campaign. She smiled cynically.</p> + +<p>"You were always a fool, Arnold," she told him. "Another moment and I +might have said that to the north, across Mongolia, lies Russia ... and +there, the portals of the world ... you and I...." She smiled again, and +there was a trace of bitterness in it. "Oh, yes, I can forget +Jehelumpore—can forgive. Said I not that I am the Swaying Cobra, that I +dance for those I love, but have only venom for those I hate? Now, +Arnold, you are your old Anglo-Saxon self again—oh, you English, with +your 'sense of honor'—and to-night you will start for India and your +humdrum life. Yes, we will leave Shingtse-lunpo to-night, with +these"—she made a gesture—"and for a while you will be a hero—and +then—" She broke off, still smiling; shrugged. "Then, in the years that +follow, you will often remember that night in Tibet when the Swaying +Cobra might have offered you the wealth of an empire ... and perhaps you +will regret your Anglo-Saxon sentimentalism."</p> + +<p>Then she turned and placed in the chest the carpet whose only gift to +men, down through the years, was a dream of crime. Trent drew one hand +across his moist forehead, as though to wipe away the obfuscations of a +nightmare. The recollection of his weakness came as a hot accusation. +His lips had touched the cup of delirium, and of that shuddering moment +there remained but the memory—gray anti-climax.</p> + +<p>"We dare not remain here longer," announced Sarojini. "The Great +Magician is a coward, and if we are too long we shall find him +chattering like the ape that he is. I will give you your instructions +now. Listen well. To-night—it must be near dawn now—I shall have a +pack-train ready, and in barley sacks, upon the animals, will be the +jewels. You will send your caravan out of the city beforehand, with +instructions to wait on the road a mile beyond Amber Bridge. Meanwhile, +at eleven o'clock—remember, eleven—a man will be at your house and +will guide you to the gate by which we left the city this morning, the +Great Magician's Gate. There I will meet you.</p> + +<p>"The gems will not be missed until the following day—and I have taken +precautions to cover our trail. Yesterday a man left with a caravan of +yaks, and several miles beyond the <i>tchorten</i> outpost he is waiting. +There we will change pack-animals. He will go north, along the road to +Mongolia, with the ponies and mules; while we will travel south, with +the yaks. The soldiers at the outpost will describe us as having been on +mules, and our pursuers will follow the tracks of the horses and mules. +When they discover their mistake we will be near the border of +India—for we shall travel along the Himalayas to Gyangtse. There the +District Agent will protect us."</p> + +<p>"Can my muleteers leave Shingtse-lunpo without passports?" Trent +questioned.</p> + +<p>She nodded. "A passport is necessary only when one wishes to enter; it +is not required at all of Tibetans.... Come, we must go."</p> + +<p>They left the recess in the wall, closed the panel and returned to the +vast, dim Armory. Again the blank sides of the boxes intrigued Trent. +Sarojini, carrying the flashlight, preceded him through the aperture in +the floor and stood on the stair, directing the ray up while he fitted +the stone into place. Then they descended into the crypt.</p> + +<p>The Great Magician was waiting as they had left him—sitting +cross-legged on the floor. Extinguishing the lamp, he placed it upon the +bottom step and locked the door.</p> + +<p>Back through the tunnel, with its cold, earthy odors, they went; reached +the crypt in the swamp; ascended into the ruins. It was still dark. The +rain had stopped, but a lingering moisture saturated the cold air. +Under the gray barren sky they crossed the marsh and entered the city. +The Tibetan who guided Trent to the Great Magician's temple was waiting +just within the gate, and there the Englishman parted with Sarojini +Nanjee.</p> + +<p>"This man will come for you to-night," she whispered in English. "Be +ready. To-night we win or lose, Arnold—and if we lose, Hsien Sgam will +have us put to death as he did those mute fools who were executed in the +amphitheater yesterday!"</p> + +<p>She smiled—a smile that might have been a promise or a threat—and +hurried away with the Great Magician.</p> + +<p>Trent moved off behind his guide. Once more they traveled the silent, +ghostly streets where only snarling curs were astir. The Tibetan uttered +never a word—not even when he left. At Trent's house he helped the +Englishman over the wall, then slunk toward the mouth of the lane.</p> + +<p>The muleteers were asleep in the quadrangle, but Trent's footsteps +aroused them. He instructed Hsiao to make a fire. Kee Meng, who lay upon +a yak-hair robe by the main entrance, told him he had been sleeping +well, that there was little pain and he could stand without ill effects.</p> + +<p>As Trent dried his clothing by the fire, scenes of the past few hours +conjured themselves in the darkness beyond the flames. Three things he +had learned; three things he had yet to learn. He knew where the jewels +were hidden; knew that Sarojini Nanjee and Hsien Sgam were not allied +(although her connection with the Mongol puzzled him); knew the woman +could tell him something about the murder of Manlove (for she was in +Gaya the night he was killed). But the mystery of Chavigny was yet +unsolved, as was the mystery of Manlove's death and the mystery of Dana +Charteris' disappearance. He did not altogether trust Sarojini; the +incident of the rug (flame to the memory) was a hint of some purpose of +her own. Furthermore, her plan was too simple to be convincing.... And +how much there was to be accomplished before eleven o'clock! He had one +remaining card to play. And he would not wait for Hsien Sgam to send for +him; he would seek him out, force his hand.</p> + +<p>With this purpose established in his mind, he instructed the muleteers +to call him three hours after sunrise and went to his room. He was +weary—body and soul.</p> + +<p>When he fell asleep, dawn was beginning to bleed the veins of the East.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>FALCON'S NEST</h3> + + +<p>It seemed to Trent that he had scarcely closed his eyes before a touch +awakened him. Sunlight floated through the window in a cloud of gold, +and Hsiao, the muleteer, stood beside his cot. When he rose he felt +stiff and empty of vitality; the vampire of utter exhaustion had drained +him while he slept. A groove was worn into his brain, a groove into +which all thoughts fell unresistingly.</p> + +<p>It was nearly nine o'clock, and a few minutes later when he went below +he found Kee Meng bending over a fire, boiling water for his tea.</p> + +<p>"I thought I told you not to move about," he said sternly to the +Mussulman.</p> + +<p>Kee Meng tapped his wound. "See, it is well now, <i>Tajen</i>!" Then he +inclined his head toward the soldier who lounged in the gateway. "I was +talking to him a while ago, <i>Tajen</i>, and he says there is great +excitement at the house of the councillor, Na-chung, because"—Kee Meng +winked—"because Na-chung disappeared last night and they fear he has +been murdered and his body thrown to the dogs and vultures! He says they +are searching the city for the councillor."</p> + +<p>Trent did not smile. In his eyes was an absent look, as though his +brain followed a derelict idea. Presently he asked:</p> + +<p>"I've had no message from the lama?"</p> + +<p>"No, <i>Tajen</i>."</p> + +<p>Trent spent a restless three hours. He went up on the roof and smoked +and thought. There was something pregnant and repressed in the calm blue +sky, in the gleam of Lhakang-gompa's golden roofs, and in the shimmer +and glare of the whitewashed city. He waited until noon, hoping he would +hear from Kerth; but no message came, and, vaguely troubled, he +descended from the roof. He procured his revolver; slipped it under his +orange-yellow robe. Then he sought Kee Meng, who was in the quadrangle.</p> + +<p>"I am going to the Governor's house," he told the muleteer. "As soon as +the soldier and I have gone, get our packs together and you and the men +go to the place where Hsiao and Kang went last night. Stay there, in +hiding, until you hear from me. Under no circumstances leave. Deliver +the—the thing that is hidden in the cellar only in my presence or upon +a written order from me."</p> + +<p>"But, <i>Tajen</i>," objected Kee Meng, "do you go alone?"</p> + +<p>Trent nodded. "Alone."</p> + +<p>An expression of genuine concern came into the Mussulman's oblique eyes.</p> + +<p>"This is an evil city, <i>Tajen</i>; the Governor is an evil man. It was he +who commanded the archers yesterday. And the brother—what of the +brother, <i>Tajen</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I am going now to find him." Then he called Hsiao. "Tell the soldier I +wish to go to the Governor's house," he directed. "Then bring my horse."</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later Trent and the soldier rode out of the quadrangle +and toward Lhakang-gompa.</p> + +<p>They skirted the outer walls of the monastery and followed a wide street +through a part of the city that was unfamiliar to Trent. The Governor's +residence was at the very end, surrounded by a garden and roofed with +dazzling blue tiles. A soldier admitted them into the courtyard, where +they waited until a man who, Trent imagined, was a chamberlain came out +and spoke in Tibetan to the soldier. Then the former went inside. He +reappeared a moment later and beckoned to Trent. The Englishman +dismounted; left his pony with the soldier; followed the chamberlain +into the dwelling.</p> + +<p>He was conducted along a hall that was dark after the bright sunlight. +Curtains parted, swished behind him. As his vision became better +regulated to the dimness he saw a great door, stained cardinal-red. This +was opened by the chamberlain, who stood aside for him to enter.... The +door closed gently behind him.</p> + +<p>He was in a room with scarlet-lacquered walls and frescoes like those in +the Armory. The silken hangings, too, were scarlet, and a single window +with an iron grill allowed the sunshine to filter through in golden +rain. Facing him was a silver image of Janesseron, the Three-eyed God of +Thunder; and beneath the idol, at a Burmese teakwood table that struck a +jarring note in the otherwise Tibetan room, and in a teakwood chair +that was equally as incongruous, sat his Transparency Hsien Sgam, the +Governor of Shingtse-lunpo.</p> + +<p>The Mongol rose an instant after Trent entered and limped forward, his +hand extended. Realizing it would be unwise to offend Hsien Sgam at the +outset, the Englishman accepted the proffered hand.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to see you,"—Hsien Sgam paused deliberately and +smiled—"Mr. Tavernake." And he added: "We may converse without fear of +being overheard; there are no eavesdroppers in my house. Will you sit +down? I was unprepared for this visit, as I did not expect to receive +you until to-night, when I hoped to have you dine with me—which I still +hope you will do.... I trust no trouble brings you?"</p> + +<p>Trent, not surprised by the reception (for east of Suez a dagger lurks +beneath silk), carefully chose his words before he gave tongue to them.</p> + +<p>"I've come to report a loss," he announced, looking directly at Hsien +Sgam.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" The Mongol uttered the expletive softly.</p> + +<p>A long pause followed, each man waiting for the other to resume. Hsien +Sgam took the initiative.</p> + +<p>"I am desolated to learn that you have suffered a loss, though of what +nature I am not yet aware. We—er—find it very difficult to control +thievery in the city. May I inquire what you lost?"</p> + +<p>The bronze face was as expressionless as that of the Buddha it so +resembled. Nor was Trent's face any less impassive. It was as though +the two had drawn armor about them.</p> + +<p>"Last night," said the Englishman, "one of my muleteers disappeared."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Again the soft expletive. "Is that strange—er—Mr. Tavernake? Is +it not likely that he deserted?"</p> + +<p>Trent went on:</p> + +<p>"He was attacked while returning from the festival with another +muleteer. The latter was wounded in the struggle, knocked unconscious; +and when he awakened his companion was gone. Since then I haven't seen +nor heard of the missing muleteer."</p> + +<p>A smile settled upon Hsien Sgam's beautiful face. Once more Trent caught +the illusion: eyes of Lucifer, face of Buddha.</p> + +<p>"Be assured, Mr. Tavernake, I shall do all in my limited power to learn +whither your—er—<i>muleteer</i> has been spirited."</p> + +<p>Trent rested one hand upon his hip, touching the steel beneath the robe.</p> + +<p>"I understand," he began, "that last evening your chief councillor, +Na-chung, who was kind enough to accompany me to the ceremonies +yesterday, was missed from his home."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam limped back to his table; sat down; folded his hands upon the +surface. The close-cropped head rose, almost as a deformity, from the +dark crimson robe. In that instant he was both sinister and pathetic, +threatening and pleading. Trent saw him as a figure curiously detached +and aloof from human beings (the power of the man could not be denied), +as mentally grotesque and misshapen as his limb.</p> + +<p>"It is strange," he declared in those chosen, precise words of his, +"that the two disappeared on the same night, your <i>muleteer</i> and my +chief councillor. It is quite"—the slant eyes smiled—"quite +coincidental." A pause. "Do I—er—strike the nail on the head, as they +put it in your country, when I say that you come for a twofold purpose: +to solicit my aid in finding your <i>muleteer</i>, and to inform me that you +have discovered a clue that might lead to the very excellent Na-chung? +In other words, you suggest a compromise: I agree to direct my efforts +toward recovering your—er—lost one, if you produce the clue that will +lead us to the councillor."</p> + +<p>Another smile. Trent, too, smiled—only inwardly. There was something +droll in the situation.</p> + +<p>"Did you consider," the Mongol continued, "that—er—my duties may be +quite pressing and that I might find it difficult to spare the time to +devote to searching for your—<i>muleteer</i>?"</p> + +<p>"But surely," Trent parleyed, "in return for the service I can render, +you will find it convenient to spare time enough to repay me?"</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam's eyes contemplated the surface of the table; his fingers +worked with nervous energy.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," he suggested, "even <i>then</i> I find it impossible to respond to +a suggestion that under other conditions and at another time would be +welcome. What then?"</p> + +<p>"Then," answered Trent, "I should call the compromise a failure."</p> + +<p>Silence. Presently Hsien Sgam spoke:</p> + +<p>"Let us cast aside pretenses," he said in his quiet, restrained manner. +"You have brought—I hesitate to say it—war into my camp, so to speak, +and you expect me to accept the first terms that are offered." He linked +his hands together. "That is impossible, Mr. Tavernake." He rose. There +was a queer majesty about him. "Nor do I think it wise for you to resort +to—to crude enforcements such as you now contemplate." He smiled with +self-assurance. "Consider the results. You would not gain your +objective; you would be acting as did the man in your very excellent +English parable about a fowl and a golden egg."</p> + +<p>Then he lifted his hand and rapped upon the table—and almost instantly +the door behind Trent opened. The Englishman did not turn, though he +heard the footsteps of more than one.</p> + +<p>"Suppose"—this suavely from the Mongol—"we declare an armistice, as it +were, until to-night? It will afford me great pleasure to offer you the +hospitality of my residence and thus eliminate the inconvenience of +riding back to your house in the midday sun. At eight o'clock to-night +we will dine—is not that the conventional European hour?—at which time +we can discuss a compromise. Also the duties which you shall assume in +Shingtse-lunpo."</p> + +<p>He spoke a few words in what Trent imagined was Tibetan to those +standing behind the Englishman. Then he addressed Trent again.</p> + +<p>"Shall I be presuming if I suggest that you give into my keeping that +which you have under your robe?" He smiled. "You see, not being familiar +with the customs of my country, you are not aware that it is considered +an act of discourtesy for a guest to keep any sort of firearm during a +visit, no matter how brief. You will forgive me for assuming the rôle of +instructor?"</p> + +<p>Trent drew the revolver from beneath his garments; passed it to Hsien +Sgam. The latter accepted it with the air of one receiving a token of +surrender. He bowed slightly.</p> + +<p>"Now you will accompany my servants to the guest chamber, which I trust +you will find comfortable, although it is not quite up to the standard +of those of your very modern country."</p> + +<p>Trent turned. Two soldiers, each armed with ancient-looking jewelled +pistols, were standing just within the doorway. He left the room between +the guards.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>To a room on the second story of the Governor's residence Trent was +taken. An iron door shut with strident clangor behind him. He saw +neither lock nor bolt as he entered, and, after waiting for several +moments, he tried the door, a purely perfunctory act. To his surprise it +swung back—and showed him, in the corridor-gloom, two mailed, armed +soldiers. This was the first eye-proof of captivity.</p> + +<p>Trent closed the door and delivered his attention to the room. It was +large and of stone, and gory frescoes were painted upon the wall-panels. +There were two windows, each barred and offering a view of the city—a +waste of terraced white, almost blinding in the sunlight, crowned by the +monastery and its golden roofs. Trent peered out of one window, then the +other. Both looked down upon a wide roadway. For a moment he gazed at +the few monks and soldiers that came and went below, then moved to a +bench fixed against the wall and sank heavily, with the uncertain air of +a drunken man, upon the red cushions. There was the same suggestion of +intoxication in his eyes, which were veined with red from loss of sleep.</p> + +<p>He removed his mushroom-shaped hat and furrowed his black-dyed hair. His +was the despair of a gambler who has plunged, who perceives defeat for +himself in the first hand and after that plays without hope, with only +the will to hope.</p> + +<p>Like something remote and beyond reach, something dim as a dream, was +the thought of Dana Charteris. His interview with Hsien Sgam drove out +the mystery surrounding her abduction, but left an infinitude of +apprehensions. The purpose that actuated the Mongol to such a move was +not obscure. Yet if she were a hostage, he need not fear for her +safety—for the present. Eight o'clock—much hinged on that. What would +the Mongol demand?</p> + +<p>A deeper tide of thoughts brought to focus interests other than +personal. If Sarojini Nanjee succeeded in her venture, she would be +waiting at the Great Magician's Gate at the appointed time. And if he +was still a prisoner then? But, even if he succeeded in freeing himself, +he could not go without Dana Charteris. Nor could he abandon Kerth.... +Knotted cords, and apparently no loose ends with which to work. His only +foil was the fact that he held the secret of Na-chung's whereabouts—a +slim weapon with which to fight a more cunningly armed opponent.</p> + +<p>Kerth. Where was Kerth now? In Lhakang-gompa? How could he get word to +him? Bribe the soldiers? He dared not try; his message might fall into +Hsien Sgam's hands and thus destroy Kerth's chances.... But he did not +know where to reach Kerth—a difficulty he had entirely overlooked.</p> + +<p>He rose, and his eyes wandered about the room. As a matter of course, he +tried the bars of the windows. His efforts led only to a fuller +realization of his plight. Taken without violence, in a room with an +unlocked door, he was as securely confined as though he were chained and +in a dungeon.</p> + +<p>He returned to the bench to wait—wait for eight o'clock. As the minutes +dragged by his nerves underwent a gradual disintegration. Anxiety, +mental and physical weariness—they were the destroying forces. He +walked the floor.... It was exquisite torture, this waiting; something +inquisitional about it. He fled from it, in thoughts, to Dana Charteris, +as a persecuted worshipper to the healing coolness and quiet of temple +corridors....</p> + +<p>Sunlight ceased to reflect its glare upon the whitewashed houses, and +the gilded roofs of Lhakang-gompa floated in the gathering twilight like +islands on a dusky sea. A rosy light spread above the city, above the +towering lamasery, and deepened from pink to sullen red, like the +flaming promise of an angry Stromboli. There was something sinisterly +significant—a devil's symbol—in the sunset; thrice significant to +Trent as he paced his prison and watched the crimson dye staining the +city. For what seemed little more than a moment Shingtse-lunpo swam in +the wine-light as in blood; then night touched sun-scorched walls with +soothing hands and drew a veil of secrecy over the sprawling mass of +houses.</p> + +<p>As the luminous hands of Trent's watch approached eight o'clock he heard +sounds outside his door—footsteps and muffled tones. Figuratively, he +gave himself into the hands of his kismet.</p> + +<p>The door opened. Polished armor shone in the dimly lighted hall. A hand +beckoned to him. Between armed soldiers he left the room and descended +to the lower floor.</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam, in his robes of office, stood waiting in the scarlet chamber +where he had received Trent that morning; and his greeting,—the +quintessence of irony—his quiet, self-assured smile, made Trent falter +in his diplomatic resolution to sheathe his antagonism.</p> + +<p>One of the soldiers drew aside a scarlet curtain, revealing an arched +doorway and, beyond, a long, dim hall. There a table was set. Tapers in +a European candelabrum threw flickering light upon European silverware.</p> + +<p>"You will observe," said Hsien Sgam, with a wave of his slender hand, +"that I have been educated to your manner of eating. I generally relapse +into barbarism, but this is an occasion—a celebration, as it were, in +honor of the arrival of the first Englishman in Shingtse-lunpo."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam sat across the table from Trent, and behind him—grim +reminders of his power—stood two soldiers, one on either side of the +scarlet-curtained archway. It was clear that the Mongol was not a +gambler.... Three Tibetan women, their faces smeared with kutch, served. +There was little pretense at conversation, and the trying mockery of the +meal was half over before Hsien Sgam broke the prolonged strain.</p> + +<p>"Let us not be deceived," he began, "but understand each other at the +very start; let us, as you would say, commence with clean slates." He +smiled over a cup of tea—tea brewed in the English fashion, and not the +sickening gruel that masquerades under that name in Tibet. "As you have +probably guessed, I know you are not he who the very beautiful Sarojini +Nanjee would have me believe you—one Tavernake, a jeweller—but Major +Trent—er—Major Arnold Ralph Trent, R. A. M. C., I believe is the full +title, working in the interests of those who would commit the lamentable +mistake of interfering with the affairs of others."</p> + +<p>The Mongol continued to smile. "Furthermore, let it be understood that +the fact that I know this does not in the least prejudice me against +you. That one is blind is not his own fault. To enlighten you, to give +you true sight—that is my purpose."</p> + +<p>Trent met Hsien Sgam's gaze with unwavering eyes.</p> + +<p>"At one time you were prejudiced," he suggested pointedly.</p> + +<p>The smile seemed painted immortally upon the Mongol's bronze face. He +nodded slightly.</p> + +<p>"You refer, I presume, to the incident at Rangoon—when I came near +committing a grave error? For the while I was deluded into believing it +would be wiser for you not to continue to Shingtse-lunpo; I now see that +I was wrong. I crave your forgiveness for that—er—almost +indiscretion."</p> + +<p>Once more the grim humor of the situation, the grotesquery of it, became +apparent to Trent. This anomaly of a creature! Eternally the two +elements of his being seemed warring—the Lucifer and the Buddha.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will understand more clearly," said Hsien Sgam, "if I go +back into the years—the years of the locust, your Christian Bible calls +them.... You will forgive the fact that I am personal. It is +necessary."</p> + +<p>He spoke to one of the serving-women and she disappeared behind a +curtain, to return a moment later with a silver tray. Trent almost +laughed aloud; perhaps it was the tension.... Cigarettes!... He welcomed +the smoke; it would clear his brain. Both he and the Mongol lighted +their cheroots in a candle-flame. The latter's face seemed to swim in +the blue clouds, his woman's-mouth twisted into that persistent, graven +smile.</p> + +<p>"I am an experiment," Hsien Sgam commenced. "Whether a success or a +failure, I will let you judge. It is the custom in Mongolia to deliver +one child from every family to the lamas for monastic training. I was +chosen from a group of four brothers and destined from birth for holy +orders. Very early—so early that I cannot quite remember it—I was +given into the charge of the abbot of a monastery at Urga. I was a—I +believe 'acolyte' is your word for it. When I was fourteen there was a +celebration at Urga; it is called the Ts'am Haren. During the races I +was injured; my pony fell on my limb. I was ill for many days. When I +grew better they told me I would be lame, always.... That very night my +mother had a vision: she saw me harnessed in golden mail and upon a +white horse, leading a great army. I was on a mountain-top, she said, +with legions about me, on the slopes and in the valleys; and at my feet +was Asia. She saw a flame, with the face of Timur the Lame in it, +descend into my body. Thus the soul of the great conqueror came to rest +in the body of her second born."</p> + +<p>The smile had faded from Hsien Sgam's face; there was in his eyes a glow +that hid the devil-light. All the beauty of Buddha shone upon the bronze +features.</p> + +<p>"That was how I became a—what is the word?—messiah?" He went on: "A +conference of the princes was held in the palace of the Hut'ukt'u, and +it was proposed that I be sent to acquire the learning of the white +lords. The Hut'ukt'u opposed it, for he was afraid that eventually I +would have more power than he. But in the night I was taken away, by +swiftest camel, and with the treasure of my house in goatskin bags. My +mother accompanied me to Kalgan, then turned back—but my father went on +to Peking. The Manchu woman was on the throne at the time. She had heard +that a Mongol prince was being sent away to be educated in Western +schools and return and establish an independent empire, and she, like +the Hut'ukt'u, was afraid. She sent assassins. I escaped—but my +father...."</p> + +<p>He shrugged; smiled. The shining look went from his face; his beauty was +again that of Lucifer, the fallen angel.</p> + +<p>"So I went. I studied after the manner of Englishmen.... I wonder"—he +leaned across the table toward Trent—"I wonder if you can understand my +feelings there, a boy, in an alien land? Gray buildings and rushing +trains and electricity—the roar of a modern Babylon—after yoürts and +camels and candlelight! There where men denounce polygamy and encourage +prostitution!</p> + +<p>"It was a slow death to me, a numbness that commenced in my limbs and +rose up—up—until it touched the very source of my thinking. Your +Civilization with its civilized vices plucked something vital, something +unexplainable, from me.... But I stayed; I learned; and when I had +finished, I returned. But not as he who had left—who had wept when his +father fell under the blade of a Manchu assassin. I had gone as the +dreamer; I came back as the awakened sleeper, incensed toward those who +had replaced visions with sordid reality.... That was in the year that +Christian calendars call nineteen hundred and four—the year Tubdan +Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, forsook Lhassa."</p> + +<p>Their cheroots had burned out. The scent of stale tobacco hung in the +air like an unclean aura. To Trent it seemed the essence of Hsien Sgam's +story—his tragedy.</p> + +<p>"The Dalai Lama came to Urga," Hsien Sgam continued. "The Hut'ukt'u was +jealous of him and he made his stay as unpleasant as possible. But +before the Dalai Lama left, I spent many hours with him. Our cause was +progressing slowly when the revolution against the Manchus came; then +Yuan Shih-kai, and the restoration of Tubdan Gyatso. But the Church had +lost much power. A conference was called at Lhassa and it was decided +that a new Head be formed—an invisible Head, unknown to the English and +other aggressors. Shingtse-lunpo was chosen. It became the Head of the +Church—a sort of Vatican. It was the will of Gaudama Siddartha that a +certain Grand Lama's body should be the vessel for his spirit. Thus came +the title of Sâkya-mûni to His Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naktsang, the +Supreme Lama of the Gelugpa. It was also deemed advisable by the Council +of Lamas that I should go to the new monastery of the Head and be +invested with the power of Governor of the city. I was to be +a—er—connecting link between Tibet and Mongolia.</p> + +<p>"Dorjieff, the Buriat monk, had promised us the aid of Russia. +Frequently, before the invasion of Lhassa, he acted as an intermediary +between the Czar and the Dalai Lama, and on one occasion the Russian +emperor sent Tubdan Gyatso the vestments of a—how is it called?—a +bishop?—of the Russian church. But the Russian monarch fell in the war, +and hope of Russian aid dwindled. China was strangling Mongolia; Tibet +had asserted her rights. Then came the Kiachta Convention. We thought we +had won. But the Hut'ukt'u is a coward. With Semenov on one side, +threatening, and Japan on the other (it developed later that both were +the same), he became frightened.... You know what happened."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam passed cigarettes to Trent, who refused; selected one +himself; lighted it.</p> + +<p>"It appeared that we were facing defeat," he resumed. "We had no +money—perhaps a little in the treasuries, but not enough to propagate +our plans. It seemed imminent that Japan would build the Kalgan-Kiachta +railway, and such a thing would mean the end of the dream of a Mongol +empire.... Ah, these railways! Keys to power! French—er—capital is +behind the Chinese-Eastern Railway. Also the Yunnan Railways. The South +Manchurian and the Shantung railways are Japanese-controlled. Chinese +sovereignty in the districts where there are foreign-owned railways is a +mere word.</p> + +<p>"Thus it would be in Mongolia, if the Kalgan-Kiachta railway were built +by Japanese money. But how could it be stopped? Mongolia herself had no +money. The only way was, as I once told you, through revolution. +Establish Mongolian control and refuse a concession to any power to +construct the rail line. And that way, too, was obstructed by lack +of—er—funds.... Then the gods sent an answer to our prayers in the +form of a foreigner—a man whom you know by the name of André Chavigny."</p> + +<p>The muscles of Trent's jaw moved perceptibly at this announcement; +otherwise, he sat motionless, hands grasping the edge of the table, eyes +upon Hsien Sgam.</p> + +<p>"There was a very great disturbance in Lhakang-gompa," the Mongol +pressed on, "when it was reported one day that a white man had been +discovered—er—masquerading in the city. His Holiness charged me to +interview the prisoner and ascertain how much he had learned. This I +did, and you may imagine my amazement upon discovering that this white +man was the André Chavigny of whom I had heard in Europe.</p> + +<p>"His true purpose in Shingtse-lunpo I have never learned from his lips, +but I am of the opinion that he might have been deluded by fantastic +tales of jewels and wealth in the vaults of Lhakang-gompa. He knew he +had seen too much to be allowed to leave; that is why he made me a most +amazing—er—proposition. I believe I can recall the very words he +uttered. He said: 'I have heard of your plans for a revolt against +China. Give me my life and I will finance you.'"</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam laughed—a low, soft sound.</p> + +<p>"Conceive the situation, major: this adventuring Frenchman, with only a +few <i>tengas</i>, offering to finance the revolution! It was—do you say, +<i>droll</i>? But I listened to him. In this very room we talked, and he sat +where you are sitting now. He has a tongue as of satin. He talked for +his life that night, and what he told me amazed me. I did not believe it +could be done at first. I told him so, and sent him to the guest chamber +which you occupied, while I thought and thought.... I went out on the +city-walls. I looked toward Mongolia—Mongolia dying—and I realized +that this André Chavigny should live."</p> + +<p>The serving-women had disappeared; Trent and the Mongol were alone but +for the two mailed sentinels at the doorway.</p> + +<p>"It is not difficult for you to imagine what André Chavigny told me," +said Hsien Sgam. "Before venturing into Tibet he had been in India—had +visited the cities of Baroda, Indore, Gwalior.... He had seen jewels +worth many millions of English pounds. He had seen and planned—only +planned. Of those gems he told me—of his plan, too. He had observed, +he said, the monks of Shingtse-lunpo cutting coral and turquoise +ornaments; therefore, why could not they, under the proper direction, +re-cut and re-set diamonds and emeralds and rubies? He knew +of a market—<i>sub rosa</i> is the expression he used. And for a +certain—er—percentage—he offered to finance the revolution.</p> + +<p>"I presented the plan to His Holiness—with my approval—and after hours +of contemplation he announced that the gods had sanctioned his consent. +So the Order of the Falcon was formed—the Falcon, whose speedy wings +would enable him to defeat the Japanese Black Dragon.</p> + +<p>"When all arrangements were completed, André Chavigny and I, with a few +associates, set out for India—through Burma, as you came here. André +Chavigny went to Indore, I to Jehelumpore, other members of the Order to +Baroda, Gwalior, Alwar, Jodpur, Tanjore, Bahawalpur and Mysore. +Meanwhile, the abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was journeying with a band of +pilgrims to the Sacred Bo-tree at Buddh-Gaya.</p> + +<p>"In the work which I had to do at Jehelumpore it became necessary for me +to cultivate some one who had—<i>entrée</i>, the French say—who had +<i>entrée</i> into the Nawab's palace. The gods decreed that it should be +Sarojini Nanjee. I met her. And to me, for the first time, came love of +woman."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam's smile underwent a metamorphosis—became the smile of one +who tastes the gall of a bitter memory. Again, as on that night on the +<i>Manchester</i>, Trent felt the heat of his words—words drawn from the +vortices of emotion.</p> + +<p>"I tell you this," explained the Mongol, "a thing I have told no man, so +that you may fully understand.... <i>Shinje!</i> How I loved! I was the monk +awakened to the world: desiring, as a man who sees a spring in the +desert thirsts—blindly, extravagantly.... I told her of my dream of +empire; I offered her a throne, and she consented to come to Tibet. Thus +Sarojini Nanjee became a member of the Order of the Falcon—and my +betrothed.</p> + +<p>"Then came the night of June the fourteenth. You, as well as the English +police, wondered how the jewels were removed when every border, every +means of egress, was guarded. It was not difficult; it merely +necessitated extreme caution. The day following the disappearance +of the gems a <i>coffin</i> left each of the cities, accompanied by +some—er—'relative' of the 'deceased.' These"—his smile +expanded—"were delivered to the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka and his lamas. +After that, it was very simple. The jewels went with the pilgrims to +Darjeeling. Then—" He gestured expressively.</p> + +<p>A pause followed. Before Hsien Sgam took up his narrative he pressed his +nearly burnt-out cigarette into a bowl—stared at the ashes as though +each gray fleck was the dust of a dream.</p> + +<p>"I was in Delhi when I first heard of you—and that Sarojini Nanjee had +betrayed me.... Betrayed by the woman I loved!... At first I was +puzzled as to how to meet this situation—that is, your entrance into +our sphere of activities; whether to—to do away with you, or allow you +to continue until a later time. I decided upon the latter course, for it +suddenly occurred to me that you, being a military man, might +be—er—persuaded to direct your efforts into another channel. A servant +of mine in the employ of Sarojini Nanjee—a man named Chandra Lal—kept +me acquainted with your every move. Thus I was able to take the same +boat as you and to realize I had been wise in assuming you might prove +of more value alive than ... otherwise. In Rangoon I suffered a moment +of indecision, and almost defeated my original purpose. By what happened +I saw that the gods disapproved of my—er—quenching the vital spark, as +the Kanjur says.</p> + +<p>"I ordered your presence at the festival yesterday because I wished you +to see how we dispose of traitors. The men who died were members of the +Order who committed grave—er—errors.... And speaking of errors reminds +me to acquaint you with the fate which you would have met to-night had +not I intervened."</p> + +<p>He rose and limped across the room, halting at a window whose draperies +were drawn. He faced Trent.</p> + +<p>"I am informed that Sarojini Nanjee, with the aid of the Great Magician, +penetrated through the old passage into the Armory," he declared +quietly, "and that she plans to leave the city to-night—with you. I am +also told that she has led you to believe that you will travel to +India—while she secretly conspires to have you murdered after leaving +Shingtse-lunpo. This is for a twofold purpose, I understand. She wishes +to rid herself of your presence, so she may continue with the jewels to +Chinese Turkestan; and the other reason.... Well, I—er—believe there +is an old wrong which she wishes to avenge. Last night a messenger left +for India, with instructions from her to report to your Government that +you have fled across Tibet, presumably to Mongolia, with the +jewels—that you ran amuck, as it were."</p> + +<p>He parted the window-draperies with one hand, motioning to Trent with +the other. The Englishman got to his feet and joined him.</p> + +<p>"Observe those men," Hsien Sgam directed, indicating a group of soldiers +in the courtyard. "Within an hour they start for the ruined gateway of +the old fortifications on the edge of the marsh, outside the city. +Sarojini Nanjee must pass these ruins if she leaves Shingtse-lunpo, as +the road from the Great Magician's Gate leads directly to the old +gateway. There my men will wait. They have specific orders what to +do.... Sarojini Nanjee will attend to the Great Magician and thus +relieve me of that task."</p> + +<p>The curtain dropped into place. Trent was struggling with insurgent +thoughts.... Sarojini Nanjee—eleven o'clock.... Kerth.... Where was +he—and Dana Charteris?... He sorted from the many incoherences a +question that had been trembling on his tongue for the past half hour.</p> + +<p>"What of Chavigny?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Chavigny?" Hsien Sgam repeated. "You will meet Chavigny before many +hours."</p> + +<p>Trent was possessed of a mad desire to laugh. Who was telling the truth, +Sarojini Nanjee or Hsien Sgam?... Chavigny, the celebrated Chavigny!</p> + +<p>"As I told you one night on shipboard," he heard the Mongol saying, "our +troops are good fighters, but untrained. They need a competent leader—a +tactician. Organization; training. Those are the necessary elements. And +they must be taught with the technique of modern warfare, by some one +who understands the mechanism of a great unit of men. If you will accept +that post, your title will be that of Commanding General. From +Shingtse-lunpo you will go into Inner Mongolia, where preparations are +under way to launch a big offensive. We have already taken a few +strides. On the fifth of this month Urga was captured and Ungern's +'White Guards' defeated. But without organized force all this work will +have been accomplished for nothing.... You will be well repaid for your +services. When I am Emperor of Mongolia I shall not forget."</p> + +<p>Trent's aggressive jaw was shot forward; but for that his expression was +unchanged.</p> + +<p>"You seem to forget I am an Englishman," he reminded.</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam merely smiled. "Men have lost their identities before. +Sarojini Nanjee's messenger is on his way to India. That will account +for your absence to the Government."</p> + +<p>Trent looked almost amused. "A sort of birthright-for-a-mess-of-pottage +affair, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I do not comprehend"—thus the Mongol.</p> + +<p>Trent did not try to explain. He queried: "What if I prefer to do +otherwise than as you suggest?"</p> + +<p>"I am prepared against such a decision." That lurking smile returned. +"Na-chung, who is a very wise councillor, suspected that your <i>muleteer</i> +was—er—not as you represented him—or, I should say, <i>her</i>. I ordered +an investigation.... That you were accompanied by a woman, evidently one +to whom you are—er—attached, was all I could have wished for.... I +acted. She has not been molested; nor will she be, if you accept the +terms which I have offered."</p> + +<p>Trent's nails dug fiercely into his palms. It was with an effort that he +kept his face in an expressionless mold.</p> + +<p>"And if I agree?"</p> + +<p>"She will be returned to India, unharmed and with the proper escort."</p> + +<p>"How can I be sure of that?"</p> + +<p>"She will write to you from Darjeeling."</p> + +<p>"You forget the councillor, Na-chung."</p> + +<p>"We shall find him," Hsien Sgam stated confidently.</p> + +<p>"Dead," Trent added. "He is hidden—hidden where you'll not easily find +him. My muleteers are there—with instructions—and if they have not +heard from me by midnight, they'll put an end to Na-chung."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam continued to smile. "You will countermand that order," he +said evenly.</p> + +<p>"No," declared Trent, quite as evenly.</p> + +<p>They faced each other for a space of seconds, neither speaking. Then the +Mongol announced:</p> + +<p>"If he is murdered, you will be charged with it and properly +punished"—he paused and finished effectively—"<i>after</i> you have done +the work which I intend you shall do. Otherwise, at the conclusion of +the period of service you are free."</p> + +<p>A reckless impulse stormed the battlement of Trent's control. Hsien Sgam +seemed to sense it, for he spoke up.</p> + +<p>"Consider well, major. One pays for a moment's folly in the coin of +years."</p> + +<p>What passed in Trent's mind the next few moments no man ever knew; it is +doubtful if even Trent himself remembered afterward. His thoughts were +laved in poison.... He felt something of purgatorial fire—a burning of +brain and nerves. But in the heat was a sphere of starry luster—a face, +alone cool and composed in the midst of what seemed some terrific +volcanic disorder of the body. It was this luster that led him at length +to a decision.</p> + +<p>"There's no alternative." He heard his voice in a queer, separated +manner. "When I have proof that Miss Charteris has reached India, I will +do as you demand ... but...."</p> + +<p>"But if you have the opportunity," Hsien Sgam cut in, linking his +slender fingers and smiling, "you will furnish me with a passport to +that—er—sulphurous dominion which your Christian Bible threatens. Be +assured, major, I shall guard against any such—er—personal +catastrophe."</p> + +<p>Then he spoke to one of the soldiers, who immediately left the room. He +turned back to Trent.</p> + +<p>"We will go now—this very moment—to His Holiness, and—er—draw up the +contract, so to speak, in his auspicious presence. This visit to +Lhakang-gompa will serve a double purpose, for at the same time I shall +initiate you into the mysteries of '<i>Thatsang</i>,' or 'Falcon's Nest,' as +you would say it—the room where the Falcon planned the recent +activities in India. It will be necessary for you to ride to the +monastery; therefore, I must have your word of honor not to—er—commit +any act of violence that might force me to adopt an abortive policy."</p> + +<p>The soldier reappeared, holding aside the scarlet curtains.</p> + +<p>"You will precede me," directed Hsien Sgam, with a polite wave of his +hand, evidently enjoying the exquisite satire of the situation.</p> + +<p>Trent moved into the scarlet audience-chamber, followed by his +Transparency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo and his mailed bodyguard.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>To Trent there was grim irony in that ride to Lhakang-gompa. Hsien +Sgam's vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair swayed along at his side, and in +front and rear was a file of leather-helmeted men. In a courtyard of the +great building (they rode up a stone causeway to reach it) the Mongol +left his sedan-chair and Trent dismounted. One of the soldiers took the +lead, Trent walking next, with Hsien Sgam and the other guards in the +rear—a formation whose strategic points the Englishman did not fail to +perceive.</p> + +<p>With their entrance into the lower halls of Lhakang-gompa the usual +smell of incense and putridity, a combination of odors peculiarly +Tibetan, assaulted their nostrils and clung as they climbed staircase +after staircase; as they plunged along lamp-lit corridors where lamas +moved like wraiths in the dimness; crossed courts and roofs, glimpsing +the stars and the white flame of a rising moon; and even when they +reached a heavily-carpeted, crimson-walled apartment that Hsien Sgam +informed Trent was the first ante-chamber of Sâkya-mûni's audience hall. +A large room, this, and occupied by several lamas who sat at +pearl-inlaid tables—chamberlains of the Yellow Pontiff. To one of these +cardinals Hsien Sgam spoke, and the former parted lacquered +sliding-doors and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"I am told that His Holiness has been indisposed to-day," Hsien Sgam +explained to Trent, "and has refused to see anyone, even his attendant +cardinals. However, the <i>Donyer-chenpo</i> has gone to see if he will grant +us an audience."</p> + +<p>Trent showed little interest as they waited—but the pulse in his +throat was throbbing hotly. He watched with expressionless eyes the +lacquered doors from behind which the <i>Donyer-chenpo</i>, or chamberlain, +would reappear. And at length the cardinal came. The doors parted and he +stepped out, motioning to Hsien Sgam. The latter moved forward and held +a short conversation with the prelate, then nodded to Trent, who, with +the soldiers at his heels, joined them.</p> + +<p>"His Holiness has consented to see us"—this briefly from the Mongol.</p> + +<p>Beyond the lacquered doors was a stairway that took them into a chamber +similar to the one they had left. Two lamas were the only occupants, one +on either side of a great door covered with cerise and gold brocade and +ornamented with knobs of gold filagree. Here they exchanged their shoes +for soft black slippers, and here they left the soldiers.</p> + +<p>The <i>Donyer-chenpo</i> pushed back the great door. They entered. Trent was +confused by darkness; then came a swishing sound, and a thin line of +light broadened into a triangle as draperies were pulled aside.</p> + +<p>The first impression, due to the vastness of the audience hall and the +dim glow of the butter-lamps, was one of space and gloom and mystery. A +double line of pillars strove toward a chain-spanned impluvium through +which stars were visible, and along the walls were idols and holy +vessels-brazen bowls and cymbals and incense-burners. Toward the rear, +at the end of the avenue of columns, was a raised portion of the floor, +covered with yellow silks. There, beneath a canopy and seated upon a +throne whose arms were carved lions, attended by the <i>Kuchar Khanpo</i> and +the <i>Solen-chenpo</i>—state officials—was his Holiness, Sâkya-mûni, the +Grand Lama of Tibet. He wore the yellow mitre, yellow veil and yellow +vestments that Trent had seen at the Festival of the Gods, and his slim +hands rested motionless, as though wrought of bronze, upon the carved +lions of the throne.</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam bowed low, whispering to Trent to do the same. As the latter +drew erect he saw that the <i>Donyer-chenpo</i> had disappeared; the +following instant he heard the muffled sound of a closing door behind +him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Sâkya-mûni motioned them forward, his yellow mitre nodding.</p> + +<p>"His Holiness means for us to be seated on the rugs below the +throne-daïs," said Hsien Sgam in a hushed voice.</p> + +<p>The two, Englishman and Mongol, took seats, cross-legged, upon the +carpets before the raised portion of the floor that supported the +pontifical throne. A thin voice sounded from under the veil....</p> + +<p>"His Holiness bids you greeting," translated Hsien Sgam, "and prays that +the blessing of the Three Konchog be upon you. In return, I shall give +him your"—the shadow of a smile slid across the oblique +eyes—"your—er—felicitations."</p> + +<p>The two yellow-robed attendants then served tea in golden chalices. +Sâkya-mûni did not drink his, but blessed it and passed it to the +<i>Kuchar Khanpo</i>.... Incense brushed Trent's face, like a tangible +touch.... The ceremony of tea-drinking over, he waited restlessly for +the next move.</p> + +<p>The Grand Lama spoke in his thin voice to the attendants, who backed to +a corridor at one side of the audience-hall and vanished, leaving Trent +and Hsien Sgam alone with the Living Buddha.... Sâkya-mûni was murmuring +to himself—reciting a <i>mantra</i>, Trent imagined. There was something +checked and imminent in the solemn quiet....</p> + +<p>Suddenly Sâkya-mûni ceased murmuring. He lifted one hand. Immediately +Hsien Sgam got to his feet, instructing Trent to do the same. The Grand +Lama rose, his yellow vestments shimmering faintly in the +cathedral-dusk. He spoke. Trent, who was watching the Mongol out of the +corner of his eye, saw a look of surprise dwell for a second in the +latter's face; saw Hsien Sgam produce from under his garments an object +that glinted like blue steel; saw him pass it to Sâkya-mûni.</p> + +<p>Then the reincarnation of Gaudama Siddartha removed mitre and veil with +one hand (he held the glinting object in the other) and stepped down +from the daïs—only it was not Sâkya-mûni who did this, but Euan Kerth +in the vestments of the Lamaist pontiff; Euan Kerth, smiling his satanic +smile and looking like some shaven-pated Mephistopheles.</p> + + +<h3>4</h3> + +<p>The blood pulsed in Trent's temples. For once his stupefaction escaped +the citadel of his impassivity. Nor could Hsien Sgam control his +amazement. The Mongol stared—stared with the air of a man struggling to +grasp something beyond his ken of thought, beyond possibility.</p> + +<p>Kerth's voice broke the spell—proof to Trent that what he saw was no +sorcery of the eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure our friend the Governor has no other firearms on his +person. Suppose you investigate, major."</p> + +<p>At the sound of the voice, a voice that spoke English, Hsien Sgam seemed +to awaken to a realization of the situation. Surprise was replaced by a +queer, half-dazed expression.</p> + +<p>"I have been without wits," he said, more to himself than to the others. +"I did not for a moment consider that there might be two—that...." +Words perished on his lips. His breathing was audible—the heavy +breathing of one suddenly stricken. He recovered enough to ask: "His +Holiness—what have you done to him? Have you—"</p> + +<p>"It's hardly my place to answer questions," drawled Kerth; "surely not +my intention." Then: "Go ahead, major."</p> + +<p>As Trent approached, Hsien Sgam lifted his hand.</p> + +<p>"Am I to be forced to submit to the indignity of being searched?"</p> + +<p>Neither Englishman answered, but Trent paused tentatively.</p> + +<p>"If I give my word," Hsien Sgam pursued, "that I am unarmed, will not +that be sufficient?"</p> + +<p>"No weapon of any sort?"—thus Kerth, while his eyes sought Trent. The +latter inclined his head slightly.</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>Something of the Mongol's poise and dignity had reasserted itself, and a +faint, illusive smile—an almost tolerant smile—touched his +woman's-mouth. His slender hands worked nervously.</p> + +<p>"I daresay I can guess your thoughts." Kerth, who was smiling, addressed +Hsien Sgam. "Your Transparency thinks I dare not use this,"—fingering +the steel trigger-guard—"but in that you are mistaken. You must +remember that whereas you are Governor, I am—well—" He touched the +yellow vestments.</p> + +<p>As Trent watched Hsien Sgam, an emotion almost of pity smote him. He +felt the titanic conflict within the Mongol, the power—warped +power—behind the Buddha-like face and the heretofore puzzling eyes +(eyes that were no longer puzzling, but that mirrored the raw look of +ancient evil, the bitter corrosion of disappointment); power that was +facing defeat. Dream of empire, of pomp and regal splendor, rusted, as +his every dream had done.... An unfinished vessel, this Hsien Sgam. +(Fragments of the Mongol's story played like illuminating shafts among +Trent's thoughts: the boy who wept for his father—who felt the +strangle-grip of a great gray Babylon—the celibate to whom the wine of +love turned stale.) The gift of life to Hsien Sgam had been ashes. All +this Trent saw in his eyes—eyes that stared ahead with sick +contemplation.</p> + +<p>And now Hsien Sgam moved. He clasped his lithe, feminine hands; he took +a few steps, slueing upon his twisted limb; paused; stood motionless; +made a gesture of resignation.</p> + +<p>"I am defeated," he declared in his soft voice, "but you will sink with +me. It is as though you had ventured into a web; the threads will tangle +you, and, like flies, you will hang there and die."</p> + +<p>Kerth smiled. "Your teeth are extracted, Transparency," he replied. He +removed another revolver from under his pallium, offering it to Trent. +"Major, I think we can talk with more ease if we go to my"—this with a +smile—"my apartments. There are certain matters I wish to discuss with +his Transparency, and I fear we might be interrupted here."</p> + +<p>He moved around the daïs, pausing by the yellow brocade that hung behind +the throne.</p> + +<p>"Suppose I walk first, then his Transparency, then you, major. I believe +that will prevent any complications."</p> + +<p>In the rear of the daïs, concealed by yellow draperies, was a door that +gave access to a stairway. Kerth took the lead, his robes dragging upon +the stone steps. The stairs mounted at a steep grade, broke their ascent +on three landings, and brought them into a small space, facing +coral-hued curtains. As Kerth gripped the center of the hangings, +preparatory to parting them, he looked around, over his shoulder and +Hsien Sgam's close-cropped head, at Trent.</p> + +<p>"Be prepared, major," he drawled. "This is '<i>Thatsang</i>' or, as we would +say it, 'Falcon's Nest.'" He laughed—a low, rather grim chuckle. "You +stand face to face with the secret of Lhakang-gompa."</p> + +<p>With that he jerked the draperies apart and the clink of the metal rings +from which they hung sent a slight shiver down Trent's spine. He stepped +between the curtains, Hsien Sgam preceding him. He found himself in a +long room. Its floor and walls were bare. At the far end, in an +alcove-like space, raised and sectioned off from the rest of the +apartment by a half-partition, was a bed. Yak-hair curtains partly hid +it—only partly, for they did not conceal the limbs and the crimson +garment of the body that lay upon the gold-fringed bed-robe.</p> + +<p>Kerth had crossed the room. Now Trent halted at the break of the +partition, Hsien Sgam at his side.</p> + +<p>The face of the sleeper (Trent knew by the fall and rise of his breast +that he was not dead) was Aryan, but the shape of the eyelids and brows +suggested that the eyes, when open, were oblique. Lips thin and +sensitive; features of an ascetic. The skull was high and shaven as bare +as if hair had never grown upon it; a white bandage covered the right +temple and sloped over the dome.... Trent lifted his eyes from the pale, +yellow features to Kerth, who, with a slight smile, answered the +inquisitive look.</p> + +<p>"Sâkya-mûni is the Falcon."</p> + +<p>Trent looked down upon the wasted features; looked up again.</p> + +<p>"He's been unconscious since noon to-day," Kerth explained. "This +morning I attended a ceremony in the audience-hall. While I was saying a +<i>mantra</i>, the idea occurred to me.... I crept into one of the corridors +off the hall and hid there. When the lamas had gone, Sâkya-mûni went +behind the curtains in the rear of the throne, with two attendants. Soon +the attendants reappeared ... and I went up. Unfortunately, in the +tussle he struck his head. I'm afraid he's done up rather badly. Take a +look, major. Meanwhile, Transparency"—his eyes fastened upon the +Mongol—"be seated—here."</p> + +<p>He indicated an armchair and Hsien Sgam sat down. Trent bent over +Sâkya-mûni.... After several minutes he straightened up.</p> + +<p>"It's a bad cut, but I can't tell much without a closer examination. He +has fever—pulse running up, too."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam rose. "Is it quite serious, Major Trent? Do you think—"</p> + +<p>"You will resume your seat, Transparency," ordered Kerth. The Mongol +obeyed. "Now, major, tell me just what has happened to-day—and if +you've learned anything about Miss Charteris."</p> + +<p>Trent briefly summarized the situation. Kerth nodded absently when he +had finished; fingered his revolver.</p> + +<p>"We're a bit scattered," he commented. Then, after a pause: +"Transparency, you will be good enough to say where you've hidden Miss +Charteris."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam sat like a carved Buddha; even his fingers ceased their +restless playing upon the arms of the chair.</p> + +<p>"If I refuse?"</p> + +<p>Kerth thrust forward the blue muzzle of the revolver. "There's to be no +parleying," he declared sternly, the smile gone from his face. "You've +lost. Now come through."</p> + +<p>After a moment Hsien Sgam said:</p> + +<p>"She is at my residence."</p> + +<p>"Good"—this from Kerth. "Before we leave you will write an order to +have her taken to whatever place we specify." Then, as though dismissing +that point as settled, he went on: "Hmm.... Quite scattered, I'd say: +She at his house; we here; Trent's men with Na-chung; Sarojini Nanjee +getting ready to leave; his Transparency's soldiers hidden at the ruined +gate,"—a pause—"with orders to shoot Sarojini Nanjee.... Hmm...." +Suddenly he smiled. "Excellent!... What's the hour, major?"</p> + +<p>Trent pulled back his long sleeve. "Five to ten."</p> + +<p>Kerth spoke to Hsien Sgam. "You will also send a guard to your men at +the ruins, withdrawing them—but, no—no—won't do. Ends must meet.... +We can't trust a messenger. And we must let Sarojini Nanjee leave the +city, as she's planned; for she has the jewels—yet—damn!" His forehead +crinkled into a frown. "Damn!" he repeated. "Ends <i>must</i> meet!"</p> + +<p>Silence followed. Hsien Sgam did not stir. Once a faint sound, a +shuddering sigh, came from the alcove-like space. Kerth was the first to +speak, and his smile hinted that he had discovered a solution.</p> + +<p>"You may not wholly approve, major," he began, "yet I see no other way. +Why not go ahead and meet Sarojini Nanjee? Meanwhile, I'll have Miss +Charteris freed, and she, in company with myself and his Transparency, +can leave the city by the main gate and Amber Bridge. We'll reach the +ruined gateway before you and Sarojini pass the Great Magician's Gate, +which will give his Transparency time to forestall the soldiers and send +them back to the city. Then we can wait, there at the gateway, for you. +Sarojini may not be particularly pleased when she learns of my presence; +but if she acts up, we have his Transparency to testify that she +intended to do away with an officer of the empire. That ought to +simplify her case."</p> + +<p>"What of my muleteers?" Trent queried. "And Na-chung?"</p> + +<p>"Na-chung isn't to be considered. As for your men—I can get word to +them to meet us at the main gate. If there's trouble we can make good +use of them. Of course, there's a risk—more for you than for me. +Something might prevent us from reaching the soldiers in time, and—"</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam interrupted.</p> + +<p>"You forget his Holiness. Will you leave him to die?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly," Kerth answered. "After all that's happened, I fancy the +Viceroy will be pleased to—to <i>entertain</i> his Holiness.... No, we +sha'n't leave him to die. If all goes well, Major Trent and I can +arrange to return to Lhakang-gompa."</p> + +<p>"You think," said Hsien Sgam, "it will be easy to leave the city?"</p> + +<p>Kerth made a deprecatory gesture. "That is not difficult. I shall ride +in the sedan-chair of His Holiness Sâkya-mûni, and until we pass Amber +Bridge your Transparency will sit beside me to prevent any interference +with our plans. There you may change to a pony and ride between two of +the major's muleteers. Your own palanquin will be put to good use, as +Miss Charteris can occupy that. And after we leave Shing-tse-lunpo, then +to the South—Gyangtse—and into India."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam smiled—that smile of inscrutable irony.</p> + +<p>"You are only crawling deeper into the web," he asserted quietly. "It +will fall upon you and you will go—like that—" The lithe hands spread +out expressively.</p> + +<p>Kerth coolly returned his smile. "If we're caught, you'll perish with +us, in the same web. Threats are useless, Transparency. The scales have +tilted. And your attitude doesn't become a prisoner. We can carry out +our plans with you or without you, although much smoother with you. +Accept my ultimatum—<i>unconditional surrender</i>—or reject it."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam's lips twisted into that ineffaceable smile. His quiescence +was absolute.</p> + +<p>"You understand, if I thought my—my demise would prevent you from +executing your plans, I would not hesitate to—er—clog the machinery. +But it would be suicide without a purpose. Therefore, I can only +accept."</p> + +<p>"Unconditionally?"</p> + +<p>"Unconditionally."</p> + +<p>Hsien Sgam's chin sank into his breast.</p> + +<p>"Now, major, do you approve of my plan?" asked Kerth. "If so, we'll go +to the audience hall and I'll order the men to take you to your +residence, and his Transparency and I will despatch messengers for Miss +Charteris and your muleteers."</p> + +<p>Trent nodded.</p> + +<p>Kerth placed the mitre upon his head and let the veil fall over his +features. A blue steel eye glittered in the folds of his robes—an eye +that was focussed upon Hsien Sgam.</p> + +<p>"Come, Transparency!"</p> + +<p>Kerth leading, they left Falcon's Nest; left it with its silence and its +brooding secrets.</p> + + +<h3>5</h3> + +<p>A few minutes later Kerth was seated on the throne of Sâkya-mûni (Trent +and Hsien Sgam stood on the red carpets before the daïs) and reaching +toward a gong that hung from one of the carved lions of the chair. +Following the mellow ring, the curtains in the other end of the chamber +parted to admit the <i>Donyer-chenpo</i>, who bowed and stood waiting.</p> + +<p>The thin voice sounded from under the yellow veil—a stream of Tibetan +words. Trent wondered, irrelevantly, if it was really Kerth who +spoke—Kerth of the satanic smile.</p> + +<p>And now he saw the yellow-robed figure motioning him to leave, and +backed slowly to where the <i>Donyer-chenpo</i> stood; backed between the +parted draperies; and the curtains dropped, and he was in darkness.</p> + +<p>In the first ante-chamber the <i>Donyer-chenpo</i> resumed his seat at the +nacre-inlaid desk, among the other cardinals, and Trent continued with +the soldiers. Back through the courts and corridors they went (each +glimpse of the stars brought to Trent a sweet recollection of another +lustrous pallor), and down the innumerable staircases. They emerged at +length into the courtyard where the horses were waiting; mounted; rode +out of Lhakang-gompa and down the causeway.</p> + +<p>Afterward, Trent could remember no single incident of that brief ride +from the lamasery; it was a panorama of moon and white walls and +darkness. The bewildering events of the past few hours had left him in a +state of mental confusion. The soldiers wheeled about at his gate, and +he rode into the deserted quadrangle alone.</p> + +<p>He was about to dismount when a shadow detached itself from the gloom of +the garden—the garden, with its flaming hollyhocks. (Odd that he should +think of flowers now!) It was the long-haired guide of the previous +night. He grunted what Trent supposed was a greeting, and caught the +bridle, guiding the pony back to the gate. Trent turned for a last look +at the dark dwelling—the house where he first partook of the lover's +eucharist. Then the Tibetan swung himself upon the pony, behind him, +clamping his knees upon the beast's flanks, and Trent inhaled the reek +of soiled clothing.</p> + +<p>Through familiar streets they clattered, and over a stone bridge toward +the city's ramparts. Few people were astir; dogs prowled in the lurking +shadows. The temple of the Great Magician had a ghostly semblance as +they approached it; its dome was spattered with moonlight, like a huge +anthill flecked with drippings of glow-paint. Something in the sight of +the bulk of masonry brought to Trent's mind what Sarojini Nanjee had +said....</p> + +<p>They passed the temple. A narrow foot-path took them to the Great +Magician's Gate. As on the preceding night, there was no guard. When +Trent's pony was brought to a halt, the Tibetan made a gesture which +Trent interpreted to mean that he should stay there and slunk away along +the path to the temple. Trent glanced at his watch as the man left.</p> + +<p>To the north, in the maze of houses that lay flat and huddled beneath +the sovereign structure of Lhakang-gompa, a dog was howling. Another +answered it; another took it up; and the melancholy baying wavered from +roof to roof—a tuneless dirge. Irrelevantly, Trent thought of a +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair that by this time should be at the +ruined gateway. It was a sheer, breathless moment, a moment detached and +charged with exquisite suspense.</p> + +<p>The rattle of harness-chains drew him back to earth. His eyes swerved to +the path from the temple. After a moment, shadows took shape in the +moonlight—mounts and riders. He wheeled his pony and rode to meet the +caravan.</p> + +<p>Sarojini Nanjee sat erect upon a horse at the head of a string of mules; +the scent of sandalwood awakened in him a queer alertness. She always +breathed of earth-perfume—an odor of the senses. Beyond her were the +looming shapes of three men—muleteers. Trent saw the contours of sacks +on the pack-animals.</p> + +<p>"Your men have left the city?" was her first question. Her breath came +quickly and the black opals had been kindled in her eyes.</p> + +<p>He answered with a nod.</p> + +<p>She insinuated her hand into his; pressed his fingers.</p> + +<p>"We win!" she whispered. "You and I!"</p> + +<p>He smiled to himself, grimly. What Hsien Sgam had said was fresh in his +ears. One of her men passed and opened the gate. Outside, on the +embankment, she turned her mount, waiting at one side while the caravan +moved out. Trent reined in his pony beside her.</p> + +<p>"Look!" she commanded, pointing through the gate at the magnificent mass +of Lhakang-gompa, above whose broken roofs the moon was poised. +"Shingtse-lunpo—Lhakang-gompa—all! I hold them, like this!" And she +made a gesture and laughed—that old familiar laugh that rippled low in +her throat. "All is not finished! Nay! I promised you vengeance—and +to-night, in a few minutes, you shall know that I keep my promises!"</p> + +<p>Then she struck her horse in the flanks and dashed down the slope, to +the head of the caravan. Trent followed. Behind, the gate closed softly +and hoofs thudded in the mud of the road.</p> + +<p>"<i>To-night ... you shall know that I keep my promises!</i>"</p> + +<p>That rang in Trent's brain; rang and echoed and reeled away, and left +him to grope for the meaning.</p> + +<p>They rode on. Several times Sarojini Nanjee glanced over her shoulder. +The ruins above the tunnel were reached, passed. Ahead the road swerved +and lost itself in high rushes—rushes that swayed and sighed and +shivered. Trent's hand hovered close to his revolver. The flesh over his +spine crawled uncomfortably as they approached the end of the +marsh-belt. He strained his eyes, but saw only the fringed line of tall +reeds against the sky.... And now the white columns of the ruined +gateway loomed, broken sentinels guarding the half-buried remains of an +ancient fortification.</p> + +<p>They were within a few yards of the gateway when, ahead, a horse +whinnied.</p> + +<p>Trent's heart leaped into his throat, and Sarojini Nanjee swiftly reined +in her horse. Something gleamed in her hand.</p> + +<p>From behind the shattered walls appeared a horseman—a robed horseman, +phantom-like in the moonlight. Behind him rode another—another. They +were fairly vomited through the gateway. Trent recognized Kerth at the +head, Kee Meng and Hsaio behind.</p> + +<p>The thing in Sarojini's hand coughed, and the red glare of discharged +powder momentarily stained the darkness. But none of the three horsemen +faltered. Before she could fire again Trent gripped her mount's bridle +and dug his heels into his own pony. They plunged forward, side by side. +He was almost dragged from the saddle, but he managed to remain +seated—to cling to the bridle of Sarojini's horse. When they were +outside the broken gate he jerked both animals to a standstill. Melted +fire-opals blazed in the woman's eyes. But he had her revolver.</p> + +<p>"You fool!"</p> + +<p>Vitriol was in her voice—but he heard her only in a detached way, for +he saw, swimming in the moonlight behind the wall, a sedan-chair, and in +it the pale oval of a face. It was in the midst of mules and packs and +several mounted men. Hsien Sgam was there, in the saddle, between two +muleteers. Kerth, Kee Meng and Hsiao had drawn rein in the gateway, thus +separating Sarojini Nanjee from her caravan.</p> + +<p>This, a quick negative, snapped and printed upon Trent's brain.</p> + +<p>From him the woman's eyes moved around the group—past Kerth, past the +muleteers and the sedan-chair—to Hsien Sgam.</p> + +<p>"You did this!" Her words stung with venom, and her eyes traveled back +swiftly to Trent. "Perhaps he fooled you into betraying me—<i>but ask him +why he wanted you to believe Chavigny alive and see, then, if you want +him as your ally</i>!"</p> + +<p>A moment of tenseness followed—a moment that seemed to lengthen into a +dead interval of time. The very world ached with dumbness, ached and +waited. Hsien Sgam, who sat stooped upon his pony, was the first to +speak.</p> + +<p>"Major Trent, you wish to know who murdered your friend. Sarojini Nanjee +did it. But not with her own hand...." His words were like smooth +pellets emerging from vats of molten metal. "I loved her," the Mongol +declared; "loved her ... and I went to Gaya, to your house, when I +learned of her interest in you.... And there I made a fatal mistake—"</p> + +<p>His words were buried as a muffled detonation ruptured the quiet. An +abrupt shock quivered the ground. Eyes swerved to the source of sound. +For an infinitesimal moment the very universe seemed to hang in dreadful +suspense; then came two violent throbs, like the blows of a seismic +hammer. A terrific roar was born out of the womb of inter-stellar +silence—a roar that smote the eardrums of those who heard, that pressed +ponderously against the heart and whipped the blood into throat and +nostrils and eyes.</p> + +<p>From the towering mass of Lhakang-gompa rose a quick glare that stabbed +up, sank, and with it the roofs and walls of the monastery.... Smoke +belched upon the sky. The earth shook. The very stars seemed dim with +dread, and a wraith of nebulous black veiled the face of the moon. It +was as though the gigantic machinery of a planet had been suddenly +crippled.</p> + +<p>The hush that followed seemed to pluck from Trent's lungs the power to +breathe. He thought the ground still heaved, that the rumbling was still +pouring about his ears.... He was a pigmy in the midst of some cosmic +disorder.... His pony snorted and trembled violently. For a space of +seconds no one spoke; no one dared. All looked toward the cloud that was +settling, doom-black, over what had been Lhakang-gompa, over the seamed +and broken heart of Shingtse-lunpo!... And then came a soft, repressed +voice—a herald of earth recalling them to its dominion after some awful +furlough.</p> + +<p>"Sarojini Nanjee is very clever. I should have known better than to +oppose a woman."</p> + +<p>A rattling laugh broke from Hsien Sgam, a laugh that was punctuated by a +crash. Trent, turning, saw a rapier of corrosive flame leap from the +Mongol's hand; saw it reflect hideously upon the features of Sarojini +Nanjee. He sought to catch her, but she slipped from the saddle.... Her +face stared up at him from a pool of black hair.</p> + +<p>Again the rattling laugh—as the muleteers lunged at Hsien Sgam; again +the crash and the rapier of corrosive flame, a broken rapier, that sank +its hot shaft into the Mongol's own breast.... He hung limp between the +muleteers, and a shining thing dropped from his hand to the ground. But +his eyes were open. Trent saw them; Kerth, who had dismounted, saw them.</p> + +<p>"I regret that I killed your friend, Major Trent"—the Mongol spoke in a +stricken voice—"I regret, too, that I was forced to close the lips of a +native who appeared at an inopportune time. It is unpardonable, major, +that I stabbed this Captain Manlove—instead—of you."</p> + +<p>Then he swayed; fell forward upon the neck of his mount. He was still +alive when Trent reached him, but the Buddha-like face seemed shrunken +and the oblique eyes, revealed by the searching brilliance of the +moonlight, were half closed with pain. He smiled in a twisted, grotesque +manner.</p> + +<p>"Mysteries are exquisite things, major," he whispered. "Consider how +delightful it—it will be, in years to come, to—to wonder whether +Chavigny ... ah, <i>Shinje</i>!... whether he was killed in Delhi, as +Sarojini claims, or died in—in Lhakang-gompa; and to wonder if she +really meant to—to murder you, or if I—I lied—" He laughed softly. +"You have heard of the scorpion, major, who, surrounded, stings himself +to death...."</p> + +<p>They had to lift him from the pony, and Trent, looking down upon the +huddled body, knew it did not belong to the boy who went forth from +Mongolia with the dream of a messiah shining in his heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>GYANGTSE</h3> + + +<p>Late afternoon of the seventeenth day, and ahead, against the brazen +furnace of the sunset, the battlements of Gyangtse. Trent straightened +up in his saddle as he saw the town rise above the ochre hills. +Gyangtse! From there the Chumbi Valley, the passes of Sikkhim, and down +into tropical India! But Gyangtse meant more than that to him.... Like +the frail filament of a dream was the memory of the journey from +Shingtse-lunpo—dust and bitter winds; smoke of campfires in the +nostrils; and in his heart a cavernous doubt. It was this doubt that fed +upon his nerve-tissues, not the travel. And Gyangtse meant that it would +end. He would be lifted to lofty spheres, or....</p> + +<p>Now, as the town unfolded in the sunset, he looked at Dana Charteris, +who rode near him—rode in silence, staring ahead. (Thus she had ridden +for those seventeen days—in silence and staring ahead, a wintry +coolness freezing the warmth from her eyes.) Tears trembled upon her +lashes.</p> + +<p>The road took them under a bastion and toward the gate. When they were +yet some distance away a uniformed figure, mounted and followed by +turbaned Gurkhas, clattered out to meet them.</p> + +<p>"Cavendish! The District Agent!"</p> + +<p>Kerth, who was riding ahead with the muleteers and the grain-sacks, +called back these words to Trent and the girl.</p> + +<p>The uniformed figure had drawn up—a tanned young man, with the mark of +a helmet-strap running across each cheek and a lonely hungering in his +eyes. He was laughing and shaking hands with Trent; then he touched his +helmet as he saw Dana Charteris.</p> + +<p>They were guided into a compound where marigolds kindled a warmth +against white walls. Servants with weathered, smiling faces appeared +from the house, sticking out their tongues in greeting.</p> + +<p>But Trent found a poignant sharpness in this welcome, for the +winter-light in the eyes of Dana Charteris had chilled him to the soul.</p> + + +<h3>2</h3> + +<p>A bath in a collapsible canvas tub; clean clothing; dinner in a +high-ceilinged, cool room; and, afterward, Trent, Kerth and the young +Agent talking, over cigars.</p> + +<p>Dana Charteris had slipped away soon after the meal, and the room seemed +barren to Trent. He scarcely heard his two companions, and sat nervously +fingering the arm of the chair and blowing smoke into the air. When he +could no longer endure it he begged to be excused and went to the room +assigned to him, where he got from his pack a certain object and thrust +it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>In the compound he encountered a Gurkha.... Yes, he had seen the +memsahib, the soldier replied; he heard her order one of the sahib's +muleteers to saddle her pony and she went toward Pal-khor Choide.</p> + +<p>Trent followed.</p> + +<p>He had passed the crimson walls of the lamasery before he saw her—a +slender shadow ahead in the dusk. He urged his pony into a canter, and +presently slackened pace beside her. She had not turned, but now the +brown eyes were directed upon him and he felt a polar coldness in the +look. For a moment his voice refused to answer his summons.</p> + +<p>"Dana—" he faltered. "Why did you run away, like this?"</p> + +<p>She smiled—not the smile he knew, that awakened a golden memory of +autumn forests and cathedral spaces.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to be alone. Why did you follow?"</p> + +<p>From his pocket he drew a glinting bracelet. In the dusk she saw the +cobra-head lifted in bizarre relief. It seemed to strike into her heart.</p> + +<p>"To give you this;"—his voice was low, trembling—"to tell you that I +cannot be your—your bracelet-brother longer." He seemed to drink +courage from those first words and plunged ahead. "Back there in Burma, +at the jungle camp, I promised myself that until we reached civilization +I'd remain the—the brother; and now...." He extended the bracelet. +"Won't you accept it?"</p> + +<p>The winter-light faded suddenly from her eyes; they shone with a new +illumination. With its coming, the chill in his heart thawed; the early +night was aromatic and healing. (Overhead a few stars were caught in the +gauzy dusk, like dewdrops in a web.) Her fingers closed about the +bracelet.</p> + +<p>"I've been so foolish!" she whispered, in a choked voice. "Oh, so +childish and small—while you've been big and fine and strong. Arnold +Trent, forgive me! I thought because—because you didn't speak; because +you didn't tell me of what I saw in your eyes—back there in +Burma—that, like <i>Sentimental Tommy</i>, the glamour tarnished when you +touch it—that you were just—play-acting—and, because the adventure +was over, you—you...." She swallowed, then finished: "Oh, I've been +such a foolish <i>Grizel</i>!"</p> + +<p>... When they rode back into Gyangtse the distant, purple-black spurs of +the Himalayas were swimming in the pallid luster poured from a flagon +moon.</p> + + +<h3>3</h3> + +<p>Serpents of tobacco smoke writhed in the room where Euan Kerth and the +young District Agent had been talking since dinner; spiraled about the +two tanned faces and dissolved, as if by magic, leaving a thin grayish +haze.</p> + +<p>"... If anyone else had told me that, Euan Kerth," said the young +officer, breaking a long silence, "I wouldn't believe it!... And they're +in those sacks! No wonder you wanted a dozen Gurkhas to guard 'em! Gad! +Of course I'll lend you an escort! Why, if it were learned that we had +'em, here in this house, we'd be murdered before midnight! But go on, +man, finish your story."</p> + +<p>Kerth resumed. The golden roofs of Lhakang-gompa lived in his words; +Shingtse-lunpo, with its maze of whitewashed houses. Another long +silence followed when he finished. The serpents of smoke still crawled +and lolled in the air. Cavendish spoke.</p> + +<p>"Kerth, I wonder—" He broke off; the lonely hungering in his eyes was +clouded by an expression of bewilderment. He cleared his throat; +laughed. "Of course, it can't be so, but.... Well, about six months ago +an old lama was sick in the Jong. They brought him to me, on a litter, +just before he died—at his request. He told me something queer. He said +that Lhassa was no longer the political center of Tibet, and that the +man in the Potala was not the Dalai Lama, but a priest posing +as the Dalai Lama. He said the real Dalai Lama was in another +monastery—somewhere toward Mongolia—that there...." Again he broke +off; laughed. "But of course there can't be anything to it."</p> + +<p>And Euan Kerth, his face dimmed by the smoke from his cheroot, smiled +his satanic smile.</p> + +<p>"No, of course," he repeated, "there can't be anything to it."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In Tibet it is the custom to deliver the dead to a sect of +professional body-hackers, who, in turn, feed the remains to the dogs +and vultures. Thus merit is acquired by the family of the deceased.</p></div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Caravans By Night, by Harry Hervey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARAVANS BY NIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 34813-h.htm or 34813-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/1/34813/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Caravans By Night + A Romance of India + +Author: Harry Hervey + +Release Date: January 1, 2011 [EBook #34813] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARAVANS BY NIGHT *** + + + + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Caravans By Night + + A ROMANCE OF INDIA + + BY HARRY HERVEY + + + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + Made in the United States of America + + Copyright, 1922, by + + THE CENTURY CO. + + PRINTED IN U. S. A. + + "... Weave me a tale of Romance + and Adventure--weave it on the loom of + Asia; fine threads in the shuttle ... + that we who only read may feel the glare + and glamour of those spicy, sweating + cities; may feel the sheer spell of the stars + and the far spaces at dusk ..." + + THIS WORD-TAPESTRY IS WOVEN FOR + MY MOTHER + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I THE EDGE OF THE RIPPLE + +II DELHI + +III A PIECE OF CORAL + +IV HOUSE OF THE SWAYING COBRA + +V INTERLUDE + +VI HSIEN SGAM + +VII THE VERMILION ROOM + +VIII "BEYOND THE MOON" + +IX FEVER + +X CARAVAN + +XI CITY OF THE FALCON + +XII LHAKANG-GOMPA + +XIII FALCON'S NEST + +XIV GYANGTSE + + + + +CARAVANS BY NIGHT + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE EDGE OF THE RIPPLE + + +If you go to the Great Bazaar, which lies west of the Old Palace at +Indore, you will see him sitting upon a cushion in his alcove-like shop, +a very magnificent figure in flowing robes and gold-edged turban. + +You will find him busy, whether you visit the bazaar in mid-morning or +in the afternoon; or even after sunset, when lamps embroider the +lacework of lanes and alleys. + +He is an amiable fellow and he will talk for hours--of silks, of jewels +(for in those luxuries he deals), or still more eloquently of Peshawar, +where the blue peaks of the Hindu Kush let their lips caress the sky as +though it were the cheek of some siren. But mention the barbarian with +corn-colored hair, or the blue-eyed Punjabi, and he will suddenly become +as uncommunicative as the tongueless _fakir_ who sits before the Anna +Chuttra and mutely pleads for alms. + +For once, at a time not long past, a mysterious hand reached out of +nowhere and touched him with two equally as mysterious fingers. The +barbarian with corn-colored hair was one finger, the blue-eyed Punjabi +the other. And as swiftly, as inexplicably, as it came, this hand +withdrew--but not without leaving its mark upon the memory of Muhafiz +Ali, merchant and loyal servant of the Raj. + +For ten years before that day when he felt the first impelling wave of +intrigue his shop was a haunt for tourists and wealthy residents; for +ten years he divided his days between salaaming to customers, cooking +his meals over a cow-dung fire in the rear, and staring across the +roadway with visible contempt at his despised rival, Venekiah, the +Brahmin. For all those years Muhafiz Ali had hated Venekiah as only a +Mussulman can hate one who wears the trident of Vishnu painted on his +forehead. But of late there was another sore that festered deep in his +heart and hour by hour fed his rancor with poison. His one son had dared +the horrors of an unknown sea (oh, a thousand times larger than Back +Bay, Bombay, the only water Muhafiz Ali can offer by way of comparison) +on a troop-ship, and in a strange country, where monstrous metal things +howled destruction and death, the parts of his only-born were buried--by +Christian hands and in a Christian grave!... While Venekiah's son, who +never stirred from the bazaar when the sounds of India responding to the +Sirkar's call rumbled from Kabul down to the Gulf of Manaar, lived and +walked the streets to talk Swaraj and curse the Sirkar and everything +bred of the Sirkar! + +Muhafiz Ali came from the North, from Peshawar, and the sultry, +throbbing heat of Central India dried up the life in his veins. He +longed for the sight of his brother-hillmen swaggering through the +Bokhara Bazaar, at Peshawar; for the smell of camels (perfume to a +Peshawari) clinging to the chilly dusk. He hoped some day to have enough +rupees to board one of those terrifying, though thoroughly convenient, +iron demons that he frequently saw panting in the railway station and +ride back to Peshawar, where he would dwell for the rest of his earthly +days in a house with a garden and an azure-necked peacock that strutted +and shrilled like an angry Rajput. + +Meanwhile, to this end he sat daily in his shop, not shrieking at +prospective customers with "Please buy my nicklass!" like that offspring +of the sewer across the way, but waiting with the dignity befitting a +son of the Prophet for those who came to buy. And many came. For the +fame of his silks (bales from Bokhara frail as spun moonlight and the +raw sheeny stuff from Samarkand) had spread through the Residency and +haunted every Memsahib and Ladyship who once allowed herself to be +enticed into his felt-floored treasure-room. + +But his fame lay not only in silks. In formidable chests in the inner +room were many necklaces and ornaments--stones precious and +semi-precious, and even paste. He was a lapidary and had once served in +the establishment of a great jeweller in Delhi. It required but a single +glance for him to find the matrix in falsely beautiful gems, or to +appraise any sort of stone from diamonds down to chalcedony. Even his +Highness the Maharajah had heard of his skill in cutting and setting +jewels, and on two occasions had given him commissions. + +On this particular day when the mysterious hand was very close, and +Destiny had placed a chalk-mark upon a certain young woman and an +officer of the empire, his hatred for Venekiah swelled to such +proportions that it included every one; it quivered against the walls of +his being, hot as the Indian sun that throughout the noonday blazed +above the sweltering bazaar. Nor did his rage cool when, toward sundown, +lilac shadows lounged in the street and a hundred-hued swarm jostled by. + +The cause of his anger was a Sulaimaneh ring, which he wore at all +times. Now it is an established fact in the social orbit in which +Muhafiz Ali revolved that these onyx stones will repel devils; +therefore, to lose such a talisman is to invite misfortune. And Muhafiz +Ali had lost his Sulaimaneh ring. Furthermore, he suspected that his +enemy, Venekiah, had stolen it from his finger while he slept--although +for a Brahmin to touch a Mussulman is to defile himself. Yet he felt +that that heap of offal, to speak in the vernacular of the bazaars, +would suffer contamination to see him at the mercy of devils. + +So he sat and glared, and swore all manner of Moslem oaths under his +beard, and stopped hating only long enough to look toward the kindling +west beyond which Mecca lay, and prostrate himself on a rug for evening +prayer. + +As he lifted his eyes they encountered a Sahib with corn-colored hair +and beard; a Sahib who stood not a yard away; who fanned himself with a +pith-helmet, and looked upon the Mussulman's religious performances with +a slightly cynical smile. + +He was handsome, as these white unbelievers go, observed Muhafiz Ali. +The eyes smiled with the assurance of one who knows a lot and is aware +of his wisdom. Rather reckless eyes. His skin was tanned and the light +hair and beard (beard because the word "Van Dyke" is not in Muhafiz +Ali's vocabulary) made it more pronounced. White linens completed the +picture. + +Muhafiz Ali, his rage dissolving, salaamed. + +"You're Muhafiz Ali, the lapidary?" + +The Mussulman detected in his speech a flaw that suggested he was not an +English Sahib; probably American, or from one of those numerous +countries behind the sunset, of which he had heard little and knew less. + +"Not only a jeweller, Sahib," he returned, for he spoke English +fluently, "but a dealer in silks, rugs--" + +But the man brushed past him and entered the inner room. Muhafiz Ali +rose and clattered after him in his loose Mohammedan slippers. + +"Do you have jade?" asked the sahib. + +For answer Muhafiz Ali lifted the lid of a brass-bound chest and drew +forth a tray of necklaces--lustrous, creamy-green jade from Mirzapore. + +"Not that kind," said the sahib, with a gesture (and had Muhafiz Ali +known the meaning of the word, "Gallic" he would have applied it to that +quick wave of the hand); "the clear sort." + +Whereupon the Mussulman separated a string of genuine _fei tsui_ from +several necklaces in another tray. The stones glowed deep parrot-green. + +"Ah!" This from the white man. "Do you have pearls, too--imitation +pearls?" + +Muhafiz Ali, somewhat disappointed, produced a necklace of his finest +false pearls, and the sahib examined it with the air of one who knew the +difference between the nacreous sea-jewel and blown spheres of _essence +d' Orient_. + +"Are you alone?" was his next question. + +"Alone?" echoed Muhafiz Ali. "Alas, O worthy lordship, my son, my +only--" + +"No, no!"--with that quick gesture and a significant look toward the +rear door. "I mean, is there any one in the back of the shop?" + +"Nay, Sahib!" + +A germ of suspicion took birth in Muhafiz Ali's brain. What did this +foreigner want? + +"You have done work for his Highness the Maharajah, I understand," said +the sahib, his eyes glittering like black chalcedony. "You re-set +several necklaces, and ... you made a copy of the Pearl Scarf ... for, +well, for state purposes--didn't you?" + +Muhafiz Ali answered in the affirmative, still suspicious. The sahib +glanced over his shoulder into the swiftly gathering dusk. + +"Could you make another copy, using stones like this?" + +For some inexplicable reason Muhafiz Ali felt frightened. The eyes that +looked so incisively into his did not match the young face. He had seen +the same expression, only more intense, in the eyes of a mad _mollah_. + +"Could you?" pressed the sahib, "or, rather, _would_ you? For an extra +gift of thirty rupees?" + +Thirty rupees! Muhafiz Ali's commercial instincts led him into +planning.... But the Pearl Scarf. Why did he want a copy? The germ of +suspicion grew and multiplied. + +"Nay, Sahib!" he answered, his better judgment outbalancing the desire +for money. "I do not remember how." + +"That's a pretty lie," interposed the man, with a laugh--a laugh that +carried a cold undercurrent and made Muhafiz Ali shudder, inwardly. "You +know the exact number of pearls in the scarf and how they are arranged; +nine strands; with eighteen pearls in the neck-piece-clasp, each having +a carat diamond inset in it. Come now--I will raise the extra amount to +thirty-five rupees." + +Thirty-five! The Mussulman's imagination took wings. He saw himself +coming into what was to him fabulous wealth. + +"The pattern is intricate, Sahib," he said doubtfully. + +"I'll risk it." Again that laugh. + +Muhafiz Ali felt vaguely nervous. "I will have to think it over, Sahib," +he announced. + +What did he want with a copy of the Pearl Scarf? That query threaded +back and forth across his thoughts. + +"I am in the service of the Raj," the man confided quietly, as though +answering the native's thoughts--confided a shade too darkly. "The Raj +wants a copy of it--oh, for reasons...." + +Ah! Muhafiz Ali understood now. The Raj! This handsome sahib was of that +invisible army that comes and goes so mysteriously from Afghanistan to +Ceylon. + +"It is, O fountain of wisdom," he declared, with a sly wink, "as though +I stepped from the dark into the light of the sun!" He motioned toward +the door, through which Venekiah, seated across the way, could be seen. +"I shall be as mute as the six-armed she-devil that yonder louse +worships!" + +There was a humorous gleam in the white man's eyes. + +"Excellent! Make your price and come to me at the dak bungalow at eight +o'clock to-night. Bring a few necklaces for effect. I will be on the +veranda. My name is Leroux Sahib." + +He tossed several rupees upon one of the chests, and turned and went +out. + +Muhafiz Ali, reflecting that Allah looked with favor upon him, gathered +up the coins. And this, after he had lost the Sulaimaneh ring! Pah! +Ill-fortune, indeed! He scoffed. + +He was so pleased that, a few minutes later, when a blue-eyed Punjabi +inquired the price of a string of _ferozees_, he did not haggle over it +but sacrificed the necklace for exactly what it was worth. + +"Eight o'clock," he repeated to himself. And his own price. He was a +loyal servant of the Raj, yes; but that did not in any way affect his +intention to charge the Raj well for his services. + +He looked toward the shop of Venekiah. + +"Brahmin dog!" he hissed in his beard. "Breeder of whelps!" + +And he spat eloquently. + + +2 + +Night wove its shuttle across the sky, beading the dusk with stars. The +Southern Cross lay mirrored in the Sarasvati and the Khan, and in the +lake at Sukhnewas; it pulsed above the gardens of Lal Bagh, above +Sharifa Street and those other narrow highways that vein the Holkar's +capital; it peered down inquisitively into the gloom of the Great Bazaar +as Muhafiz Ali, having finished a meal of curry and rice, quitted his +shop and hurried toward the dak bungalow. + +That this Leroux Sahib had commissioned him to copy a jewel-pattern of +the Maharajah's regalia no longer presaged evil in his mind. Nor did he +seek an explanation. True, it mystified him. But there were some things +one should not know. And, to him, the secrets of the Government were +numbered among these. The Raj had banished the old order of things, for +no more did princes sit in golden howdahs upon caparisoned state +elephants; nor did they indulge, as of old, in the venerable pastime of +pigsticking; they rode in automobiles and played a game on horseback +with an absurd ball.... + +Muhafiz Ali had ceased long ago to wonder at the baffling mechanism of +the Government, and satisfied himself with the assurance that Allah did +not intend he should understand. + +So Raj meant Riddle. + + * * * * * + +When he reached the dak bungalow he found Leroux Sahib sitting upon the +veranda. The white man led him inside. + +"Well?"--this with a gleam of the black eyes. + +"I will do it, O cherisher of the poor." + +"The price?" The Mussulman named an outrageous figure--and held his +breath. The man inquired: + +"How long will it take?" + +"Seven days; perhaps less." + +The sahib frowned, tugged at his yellow beard. + +"I must have it in five days." + +"Impossible, O Burra Sahib!" A pause. "Unless--of course--" + +A smile. "Not another rupee do you get, you old brigand!" he declared +good humoredly. "And five days, I say. Settled? Thirty-five rupees extra +when it is done, half the price in advance." + +He drew from his pocket a wallet and counted out a number of Government +of India notes. + +"Remember, this is to be quiet," he cautioned. "I will call now and then +to see how you are coming on." + + * * * * * + +As Muhafiz Ali made his way back to the bazaar, he congratulated himself +upon getting so easily the price he had set upon the work, and regretted +that he had not inflated it a little more. However, he was well pleased +with the day's business. He paused once on the homeward journey to place +a four-anna bit in the bowl of an emaciated, ash-painted _fakir_ who sat +before the alms-house, and arrived at his shop in a state of excellent +spirits. + +He made a light and opened the chest in which he kept his necklaces. The +instant he saw the top tray he detected a flaw. Unlike most merchants, +he was very careful in the arrangement of his necklaces; in one tray +were agates, in another blue sapphires; thus with all his beads. + +And a string of creamy-luster Mirzapore jade lay in the tray with the +clear, deep-green _fei tsui_. + +A cold suspicion uncoiled in his brain. He stood motionless. This could +mean but one thing: some one had entered his shop while he was away. He +quickly counted the necklaces. None were missing. Nor did a hasty +inventory of the lower tray show that anything had been removed. The +other chests were under the protection of European padlocks. + +Who had entered his shop, and why? Nothing had been stolen. The door was +locked.... But the rear! Ah! The court! Why had he not thought to +barricade that also against thieves? But had a thief disturbed the +beads? A thief would have taken them. After all, was not it possible +that he had placed the necklaces in the wrong tray? Possible, but not +probable. No, he was certain a hand other than his own had dropped the +jade from Mirzapore in with the _fei tsui_ stones. + +Yet, he told himself, he had not been robbed. So why be uneasy? But he +could not rid himself of the uncanny suspicion that devil-business was +afoot. He would feel more secure had he not lost the Sulaimaneh ring. + +Upon an impulse he went to the door and peered into the street. The shop +of Venekiah, the Brahmin, was dark. From a nautch-house close by came +the muffled throbbing of tom-toms--a restless pulse of the night. A man +in a Punjabi head-dress lounged under a rheumy incandescent further +along the dim street. + +Muhafiz Ali turned back, gravely troubled. He locked the door. + +Of a certainty devil-business was afoot. + + +3 + +A film of dust wavered over the bazaar and introduced a drowsy golden +effect into the mid-afternoon atmosphere. Few human beings ventured +forth in the glare. A half-naked _bhisti_ splashed water over the dusty +roadway; at one corner a street-juggler sat with a torpid python coiled +in his lap. + +Muhafiz Ali, absorbed in utter languor, squatted upon a brocade of light +and shadow woven by the sunlight that filtered through the dust-laden +leaves of a tree outside his doorway and watched a green-bronze lizard +drowsing upon the flagstones. The slumberous atmosphere of the bazaar, +the mingled odors of fruit, fish and cologne, held no portent of the +thunderbolt that very shortly was to jar Muhafiz Ali out of his peaceful +sphere. + +Five days had passed since he visited Leroux Sahib at the dak bungalow. +The copy of the Pearl Scarf was finished; it lay in a chest in the inner +room. He had despatched the son of Khurrum Lal, the fruit vender, with a +_chit_ to the sahib telling him this, and the sahib had answered that he +could call after nightfall. + +Muhafiz Ali felt singularly relieved. For the past few days the +Mohammedan equivalent of the sword of Damocles had hung over his head. +The white man had called several times, and on each occasion the sight +of him reassured Muhafiz Ali, but after his departure the native +invariably relapsed into a state of nervous anticipation. + +Now it was done. To-night the sahib would call and he, Muhafiz Ali, +would settle back into an untroubled existence--many rupees the better. +He felt peace upon him already. So he sat in the doorway of his shop and +contemplated the green-bronze lizard, and breathed, almost with relish, +the mingled odors of fruit and fish and cologne. + +Muhafiz Ali had in him the makings of a psychic. He anticipated +happenings with amazing accuracy. Therefore, when a shadow fell upon the +roadway in front of him and he looked up to see Mohammed Khan, the money +lender, he felt a pall descend upon him. Mohammed Khan, bearded and +turbaned to exaggeration, frequently came to indulge in bazaar gossip. +With a word of greeting, he sank upon the doorstep beside his +brother-Mussulman. + +He had startling news this day. Sadar Singh, who belonged to the Indian +Escort of the Agent, had come to pay the fifteen rupees he owed him, and +Sadar Singh, who never lied, had that very morning heard the Residency +Surgeon talking with the Commissioner Sahib. The substance of their +conversation was that there had been a robbery at the palace. The vaults +had been looted of the state treasures. The famous Peacock Turban was +stolen.... And _the Pearl Scarf_. + +Muhafiz Ali's brain did not function normally for some time after this +announcement. He felt frightened--nauseated. + +The Pearl Scarf stolen. Suppose the copy was found in his possession, +and the police, who had strange ways, connected him with the robbery? +The house in Peshawar dwindled; he saw the jail looming before him. He +was innocent, but how could he explain? + +He remembered vividly the incident of the jade necklace. Could it be +that Venekiah, that mountain of corruption, had spied upon him?... O +Allah, Allah, he wailed in silence, it was written that his lot should +be misfortune from the moment he lost the Sulaimaneh ring! + +Inwardly, he writhed while Mohammed Khan talked on. He was in no mood +for more gossip, but Mohammed Khan stayed--stayed until late afternoon +when little spirals of dust began to rise from the street, when clouds +materialized out of nowhere and blotted out the sun. + +After Mohammed Khan took his leave, Muhafiz Ali tried to reason with +himself. The sahib had said the scarf was for the Raj, and was not that +assurance enough? No. And he strove to press behind the veil and find an +explanation for the affair; but his Kismet decreed that he should be a +pawn, and he dug at the mystery in vain. + +A dark sky, threatening rain, hastened the dusk; and when, one by one, +lights appeared in the street, like yellow sentinels, Muhafiz Ali +uttered a sigh of relief and rose and entered the shop. A moment later +he heard a soft patter and inhaled the fresh, cool smell of rain upon +dusty air. + +"Please buy my nicklass!" shrilled Venekiah's voice, and he looked over +his shoulder to see a Memsahib clatter by on horseback. + +Behind her walked a man in a Punjabi head-dress, swinging along at a +leisurely gait despite the rain. + + +4 + +The usual heavy downpour following a break in the monsoon drenched the +bazaar. It came with a high wind, and doors strained at their locks and +windows rattled as legions of rain rode through the streets. The torrent +rumbled upon tin roofs and roofs of corrugated iron; reduced the dust in +alleys to mud; lashed the thirsty, sun-scorched trees. + +Muhafiz Ali sat on a cushion in the inner room of his shop with a copy +of the Koran open in his lap, more intent upon the eerie sounds than the +book. Frequently his eyes left the pages and sought the door as gusts of +wind smote its panels, and when sudden draughts made the lamp-flame +flicker and sent the shadows shuddering over the walls, a chill dread +spread through him. Not until that accursed thing of imitations had been +taken away would he feel safe. Surely the devils were hard besetting him +for losing the Sulaimaneh ring! + +The door shook--as though impatient with the lock and hinges that held +it. Outside, the storm wrung wails and groans from the bazaar. Again the +door rattled, furiously. + +Muhafiz Ali set aside the book, rose and crossed the room. He unlocked +the door. A spray was blown into his face. No one was there. Rain poured +over the street-lamps in gauzy, iridescent ribbons; it wove spumy lace +upon the black roadway and trailed, fuming, into the gutters. + +He shut the door and locked it. He had taken no more than two steps +before a pounding brought him to a halt. He stood there for a moment, +tense; then turned and pressed his lips to the crack of the door. + +"Leroux Sahib?" + +Faintly, from out the chaos of sounds, came--"Yes." + +He turned the key. The door opened violently and slammed behind the +drenched figure of the yellow-bearded sahib. Water dripped from his +helmet; streams of moisture trickled down his rain-cape and gathered in +pools upon the floor. + +"Allah be praised!" Muhafiz Ali murmured fervently. + +Leroux Sahib flung aside his cape, and the native saw that he carried a +flat package under one arm. The white man shook the water from his +helmet and mopped his face with a khaki handkerchief. + +"Mother of God! What a night!" he exclaimed, smiling grimly. Then: "Is +it ready?" + +Muhafiz Ali hastily opened one of his chests and removed several trays. +The sahib joined him. His eyes shone feverishly as the Mussulman drew +forth a thing that tinkled musically. Strands of nacreous spheres +reflected a soft radiance from the lamp; luster of cream-colored satin. +The imitation diamonds that inset the clasp burned like star-splinters. + +Leroux Sahib swore under his breath and chuckled; swore in a tongue +Muhafiz Ali did not understand. + +"What a joke! What a colossal joke! And they think it is for them.... +_Bon Dieu!_" + +The door rattled; the lamp-flame rippled threateningly. + +"I shall place it in a tin box, Sahib," Muhafiz Ali said, for the sooner +the thing was gone the sooner he would feel at ease. "See, a box no +larger than the one you carry." + +He moved the lid. Pearls rattled coolly. Meanwhile, the sahib counted +out several banknotes. + +"Count them," he instructed as Muhafiz Ali handed him the tin box, +wrapped and tied. + +The Mussulman obeyed. The door shook again. A sudden burst of wind +almost carried the notes out of his hand. The lamp gasped. A slam +followed. + +Muhafiz Ali looked up quickly to behold a strange tableau--a tableau +that for the while suspended all thoughts from his brain and drew from +his limbs the power to move. + +A man had entered--a blue-eyed Punjabi. The face was vaguely familiar, +and Muhafiz Ali's memory groped.... A string of _ferozees_.... The +Punjabi stood with his shoulders pressed against the door, his feet +planted wide apart. His soaked garments clung to his body; his turban +dripped water into his eyes. But that did not quench the fire in them. +How they burned! Blue sapphires! In his hand he held a thing that +glittered like an evil eye. + +Leroux Sahib had swung about. His feet, too, were planted well apart, as +though he were steadying himself for an impact. The muscles of his +throat stood out like white cords in the shadow of his beard. There was +a hard gleam in his eyes; more than ever they resembled black +chalcedony. + +Afterward, Muhafiz Ali never quite remembered how it all happened. At +the time he was too stupefied to observe details. The blue-eyed Punjabi +laughed. It was a challenge. Leroux Sahib, suddenly smiling, answered +it; lunged toward the lamp. The ring of shattered glass--and darkness +wiped out the scene. Followed the thudding jar of muscle and bone +against yielding flesh; swift, staccato breathing. The door was flung +wide. Muhafiz Ali, crouching in a corner, saw a figure faintly +silhouetted in the door-frame, an amorphous shadow upon the paler +darkness of the street. It vanished. Another figure lurched out after +it, and was swallowed by the storm. + +Energy flashed into the Mussulman. He ran to the door. The incandescent +lamps gleamed through a crystal curtain of rain. The street was +deserted. For a moment he stood there, shivering. Then he shut the door; +locked it; lay weakly against the panels. When he had recovered, he +groped his way to where he knew a lantern hung. He lighted it, and a +mellow radiance played upon bits of broken glass. + +He rapidly counted the banknotes. Satisfied, he returned to the door and +pressed his ear to the crack. Only the slush and drench of rain. He +shivered again. + +Whither had they gone, this Leroux Sahib and the blue-eyed Punjabi? +Their eyes! Black chalcedony and blue sapphires! The Punjabi had a +pistol.... Over imitation pearls! Strange were the ways of these white +barbarians, stranger still the ways of the Raj. On the morrow would the +police come and ask him all manner of confusing questions? Or had the +hurricane spent itself? Was this the last he would ever see of the +yellow-haired Sahib or the Punjabi? + +He turned back, looking half abstractedly upon the gleaming particles of +glass. He shivered for the third time. Devil-business! + + * * * * * + +And so the gods, having no further use for Muhafiz Ali, merchant and +loyal servant of the Raj, left him to wonder at the source of these +ripples that had touched him; left him to grope behind the drop that had +suddenly fallen upon this bewildering interlude; left him to dream of +the house in Peshawar and the azure-necked peacock that strutted and +shrilled like an angry Rajput. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +DELHI + + +Several days after Muhafiz All delivered the imitation Pearl Scarf to +the sahib in Indore, the young woman who was marked of Destiny sat in a +first-class carriage of the East Indian Railway, her attention divided +between a green vellum volume propped against a gray-clad knee and the +sun-blistered scenery that unreeled past the window. + +An elderly gentleman from Devonshire who occupied the same carriage +found himself wondering why his eyes invariably returned to the girl. +This particular gentleman was past youthful sentimentalizing and not yet +in those riper years when age casts regretful glances over its shoulder; +therefore, being no psychometric, it puzzled him that this girl should +compel his gaze. Was it the hair, in whose bronzen waves a slantwise ray +of sunlight ignited little glints of red-gold? Or the white throat, full +with young maturity? Suddenly she looked up, and he fathomed the secret +of magnetism. Brown eyes that brought to mind a deep, rich wine held to +the light--or poplar leaves just before snow. He felt something of +cathedral-largeness behind those eyes, something vital and alive yet +intensely spiritual. The warm strength of sunlight in great forests; +tapers in altar-gloom. These things were there. And the gentleman from +Devonshire thought of a daughter in Britain and smiled to himself, and +forgot hot, heart-aching India. + +The lights which he had glimpsed in the girl's eyes were the very +beacons that had drawn her across leagues of water--lights that were +first kindled in some voyaging ancestor whose frigate dropped anchor off +old New Orleans, in the gilded days of Bienville; that grew dim in the +tiresome process of heredity, and flamed anew, generations later, in +this girl who sat in the railway carriage--lights that were almost +smothered by the snuffers of Aristocracy and Tradition. + +For Dana Charteris came of a Louisiana family whose name was as old as +the state itself, and who lived in a great, pillared house and had black +servants and drank blacker coffee. Custom and pride and chivalry were +the goddesses of the family penetralia, and debt maintained the +vestal-fires. Her father was called "Colonel" for the same reason that +no less than one third of the gentlemen of his plane were given that +title. Her mother, who carried an air of fragrant and faded aristocracy, +read Cable and regarded him as some subaltern's wives in India regarded +Kipling. And her brother, Alan--Dana hardly knew Alan. When his name was +spoken in the house, it was in a hushed voice. They called him "black +sheep," but Dana could never associate dark fleece with the slim boy she +remembered. Alan ran away when little more than fifteen--ran away to +sail the Seven Seas and to find the end of the rainbow. Every few months +letters came from him, bearing post-marks that were, to her, stamps of +glamour. + +In her eyes her brother wore the mantle of Jason. He rambled in all +manner of weird places in his quest for the golden prize. This, while +she grew in an atmosphere of sweetly-musty traditions! Before she went +off to boarding-school her days were divided between the piano, paddling +indolently in warm bayous--sometimes alone, sometimes not--and riding a +black mare. But in the quiet, breathless nights when an army of stars +thronged the sky, and from down the river came the soft crooning of a +Creole song, she dreamed of enchanted lands beyond the horizon. + +But the voyaging ancestor and the argonaut-brother were only partly +responsible for her unrest. There was Tante Lucie, down in New Orleans. +(Tante Lucie, who made one think of star-jasmines and all the romantic +things that aura the Old South.) She had stories to tell, for a +lover-husband had taken her adventuring. She had seen the Shwe Dagon and +looked upon the Taj by moonlight. Her lover-husband was only a memory, +as were the temple and the Tomb; but she loved to talk of them, sitting +in her little court where the perfume of magnolias swam in the air. + +Dana's father died just before her eighteenth birthday. In the years +following, her mother no longer read Cable; she sat and dreamed of her +argonaut-son and of the "Colonel." And Dana almost stifled her desire to +cross the seas. For ominous sounds disturbed the quiet of Bayou +Latouche; there were bandages to be made and books and boxes to be +shipped to camps. During that period the letters from Alan were +infrequent and from Mesopotamia. + +But the interlude of khaki passed, and Bayou Latouche sank back into its +stupor. Again in the starry silences Dana listened to the crooning of +Creole songs down by the river and dreamed of a world beyond the dawns +and dusks. She was alone then; her mother went during the interlude, and +Tante Lucie no longer sat in her court and talked of foreign lands. +There were no ties; except money, as always. To keep up the house she +taught music. + +Then, one day, she heard from Alan. Burma, this time. He held a post +with the Inspector of Police at Rangoon. He had a bungalow in the +cantonment, he said, and any number of servants to wait on her, if she +would sell the house at Bayou Latouche and come to him. In a short time +he would have a "leave." They could meet in Calcutta and "do" India +together. + +India--together! Those words opened the dream-portals. After she read +the letter she consulted a mirror and told herself that she was +twenty-three and already in demand as a chaperone for the younger set. +She went into the library and stood before the portraits of her father +and her mother. She cried. And then, aware that the shades of the +Charteris family had stern gazes fixed upon her, she sent a cablegram to +Alan. + +Once aboard the great ship, she felt no regrets; to look back upon the +great, pillared house was like lifting the lid of a rose-jar: it brought +the fragrance of things very old and very faded. When she reached +Calcutta, a young captain met her at Chandpal Ghat. He had a note from +Alan. It explained that an urgent matter had taken him to Indore; he +begged her to forgive him for not meeting her, but assured her she was +in good hands. The second day in Calcutta she received a telegram from +him. + +"Meet me Delhi Friday," it ran. "Take express. Plan trip to Khyber." + +To the Khyber!... She left Calcutta that same day, and now, after a long +journey through the prickly-hot United Provinces, she was speeding into +the North. India, with its contrasts of filth and grandeur, had not +tarnished under the touch of reality; the nearest she came to +disillusion was in smoky, modern Calcutta. Now Tundla Junction lay +behind in a shimmering heat-haze; ahead, beyond the roaring, sweating +engine, was Delhi--Delhi, key to perished dynasties. + +The engine's whistle shrieked. It sent a charge of excitement through +her and she looked eagerly out of the window. Iron wheels rumbled across +a bridge. Another shriek of the whistle. Brakes screamed, and the train +drew up, panting, in the clamor and writhing heat of the railway +station. + +The gentleman from Devonshire opened the carriage door, and Dana, a grip +in each hand, her heart fluttering against her breast, smiled at him and +stepped into a torrid swarm. Her eyes searched the crowd. What would he +look like? Suppose she did not recognize him! Vaguely nervous, yet +happy, she allowed herself to be carried with the human surge. + +"Hello, there!" said a voice in her ear, and she turned quickly to look +into a clean-shaven tanned face. (And the gentleman from Devonshire, who +was passing, saw the brown eyes acquire a deeper, richer glow.) + +"Alan!" + +He was tall and slim, and the eyes that looked into hers were intensely +blue, the blue of sapphires.... The same boy, she told herself joyously, +only more tanned and grown-up! + +"Oh, Alan!" she gasped, as he held her at arm's-length, despite the +crowd, then drew her to him and kissed her. + +"Great Lord, how you've grown!" he exclaimed. + +She remembered saying something about not being a little girl always; +remembered being led through the throng. Then they were in the street. +Heat and noise and colorful confusion. + +"I've reserved rooms at a quiet place beyond the Kashmir Gate," he told +her as he helped her into a carriage. "From the terrace outside your +room you can look upon the battlements and the river." Then, with +another smile, "I can't believe it's you! Why, you're positively +beautiful! Lord, it seems a century, a whole century, since I was in +Bayou Latouche!" + +He removed his topi as they wheeled off and she saw that his hair was +shot with gray above the temples. They seemed so absurd, those gray +hairs. And how his eyes lighted when he spoke of Bayou Latouche! She +realized suddenly, with a tightening of the cords in her throat, that +the search for the golden fleece hadn't been all pleasant. In his voice, +in his face and manner, was a thirst for home-talk. She understood how +he needed her, there in his bungalow in Rangoon. + +"Bayou Latouche is just the same," she said, placing her hand upon his. +(She spoke with a faintly slurring accent that was unmistakable.) +"Except, of course, so many have gone ... the war...." Pause. "I don't +believe you've changed a bit, Alan--you're like that last picture you +had taken before you left. Mother--how she adored you! If you could have +seen the way she looked at that picture! Father, too." + +He smiled soberly. She could see her father in certain of his features. +A sudden fierce joy of possession ran through her. He was hers, this +bronzed brother! + +"I'm glad you've come, Dana." This solemnly. "It's been rather lonely +out here. You know the climate has a way, once it gets a hold, of +sapping up the energy and mummifying a fellow before his time." + +Her hand closed tighter about his. "And there hasn't been a girl, Alan?" + +He smiled. "You're the only one, Dana.... I was sorry I wasn't in +Calcutta when you landed, but this game of sleuthing has its unexpected +twists. That's why I like it. Nothing very exciting ever really happens; +it's usually humdrum thievery and dacoity. A French rogue put in his +appearance in Rangoon about a month or so ago--an international +character; only goes in for big loot. Don't know where he was before he +turned up in Rangoon, but he vanished as queerly as he'd come. The day I +reached Calcutta I was in the station and I recognized him. He'd +peroxided his beard and hair! Heard him ask for a ticket to Indore, and +I scented trouble in the wind. Of course, I should have had him arrested +there, but I wanted to see what he was up to. I left the note with +Bellingrath and took the next train." + +Adventure! And he was talking of it in a matter-of-fact way! + +"You caught him?" she urged. + +"Has anybody ever caught Chavigny? No, he slipped through the net. And +the nerve of him! He had letters to the Maharajah and the Agent! Used +the name of Leroux. I dressed up in a Punjabi's garb--wanted to snoop +around without arousing suspicion. I tracked Chavigny to a jeweller's +shop the day I reached Indore and overheard him commission the merchant +to make an imitation copy of the Maharajah Holkar's Pearl Scarf. After +that I watched the jeweller, too. He--but I'm boring you." + +"Boring me!" She laughed. "My own brother masquerading as a native and +shadowing a notorious thief! Go on!" + +"Well, I waited, and the expected happened, only on a larger scale than +I anticipated. The treasury was looted--_looted_! Thousands' worth of +jewels! Why, the Pearl Scarf alone is valued at a _crore_ of rupees, +which is about three million, three hundred thousand in our money. And +the Peacock Turban, too, cost a fabulous sum! Yet, confound it, Chavigny +didn't go near the palace the night of the robbery! Nor had he taken the +copy of the Pearl Scarf from the bazaar! The night after the theft, I +followed him to the shop. Gad, how it rained that night! He got the +imitation scarf--but I lost him. We had a tussle and I snatched the +beastly imitation, which I'm keeping as a souvenir of my colossal +blunder in not taking the local police into my confidence. Departmental +jealousy; that's the death of justice. Chavigny left Indore by +automobile or carriage--don't know which--and boarded a north-bound +train at Mhow garrison. The station-babu described him and said his +ticket read to Delhi. And here I am." + +"You've notified the police that--Chavigny, isn't it?--is in the city?" + +He smiled. "I didn't have to. About two hours after I arrived, I heard +that Kerth--he's the Director of Central Intelligence's best man--had +got wind of Chavigny's presence and was trying to ferret him out. That +relieved me of the responsibility of reporting Chavigny." + +"And you still have the copy of the Pearl Scarf?" + +"Yes." + +"But is it right to keep it?" This with a flickering deep in the brown +eyes. + +"Oh, I'll not keep it; only for a while. If I can get Chavigny, +then--well, there's no telling what might happen. Too, I'd like to beat +that devilishly clever Kerth. You see, Dana, this is a big affair, much +bigger than I thought at first. The Secret Service is trying to keep the +lid on it, but of course it's leaked out. On the same night the robbery +occurred at Indore, similar robberies took place in several other +cities. And in every instance it was royal loot! The Gaekwar of Baroda +has one of the finest collections of diamonds in India, the famous 'Star +of the Deccan' among them--and a rug, a _rug_, Dana, ten by six, made of +pearls and rubies and diamonds! Think of it--and stolen! Scindia of +Gwalior, the Rajah of Alwar, the Nawab of Bahawalpur, and, oh, others, +too! And they all happened on the same night. Does it mean there's a +band of thieves at work, with Chavigny at the head? If so, why, great +Scott, it's the most colossal thing that's ever been staged! But I can't +understand how they intend to get away with the booty. The borders and +the coast are closed as tight as a drum, and they can't dispose of the +jewels in India." + +Dana sighed. "To think of all that happening, Alan, just as I arrive! +Wouldn't it be marvelous if--" + +"If what?" he encouraged, smiling. + +"Well, if I were to wake up and find myself in the midst of something of +that sort; one of the players, not just an onlooker." Another sigh. "I'd +like to see a really notorious thief, Alan." + +He laughed. "You may; for Chavigny's in a close quarter now. But here we +are at the hotel." + +The carriage drew up and a turbaned porter took her bags. The +proprietor, an Eurasian, met them under the great front arch of the +building and conducted them to their rooms. + +"Oh!" gasped the girl, drawing aside the bamboo blinds. + +The casement opened upon a stone terrace flush with the city walls, and +out of the green and white chaos of Shahjehanabad, or modern Delhi, rose +the gilded bubbles of several domes. Beyond a dark green jungle area, +the Jumna shone dully. + +"India!" she exclaimed. "Moguls and howdahs and mosques!" + +"India! Thugs, snakes and abominable hotels!" scoffed her brother from +the adjoining room. "Here's the copy of the Pearl Scarf, if you care to +see it." + +As she turned, he stepped through the communicating doorway and extended +a shallow box. When she lifted the cover a little gasp of astonishment +left her lips. The cream-luster of pearls; red and blue gleams from +paste diamonds! + +"Why, they look genuine!" she cried; then shuddered. "There's a terrible +fascination about jewels, Alan. They always have a story. Murder and +pillage!" + +"Grease and dirt usually, in India," he interpolated with a smile, +taking the box. "But let's forget Chavigny and the round dozen Rajahs +that are wailing over their stolen jewels. I promised Gerrish--he's an +old friend--we'd dine with him this evening. Eight o'clock." + +A few minutes later Dana unpacked her grips. Dear Alan! Her brother. +After all those years. She wondered if it were not a dream, if presently +she wouldn't wake up back at Bayou Latouche, or in Tante Lucie's court, +down in New Orleans, with Tante Lucie talking of foreign lands.... + + +2 + +Night settled over Delhi. From the River Jumna to the Ridge, and beyond, +tiny lights blinked at the shadows, and like a huge spirit-eye in the +dusk the moon looked down upon the domes and minarets of the old Mogul +capital. At the clubs electric punkahs fanned the air, ice clinked in +frosted glasses and home-sick young officers read news-sheets from +Britain. The network of narrow, constricted highways between Burra +Bazaar and the Delhi Gate steamed and stewed, and heat and stench +crawled beneath dirty eaves and balconies. South of the modern city, on +the dead plain of Firozabad, thornbush and acacia rustled mournfully and +ruined ramparts yielded up their nightly squadron of bats. + +In his residence beyond the Civil Lines, Colonel Sir Francis Duncraigie, +Director of Central Intelligence, C. S. I., and probably one of the most +important men in the empire, sat alone in his writing-room beneath a +mildly whirring fan, and sweltered and swore. + +As a house-boy appeared like a white wraith from the dusk of the hall, +he looked up. + +"Well?" + +"Did you call, O Presence?" + +Sir Francis glared. "No!" Then, "But wait!" + +A pattering noise sounded from the driveway, and he rose and strode to +the window, parting the draperies. What he saw, fantastic in the hazy +moonlight, was a palanquin with drawn curtains, borne on the shoulders +of four coolies. + +"What 'n Tophet!" he exclaimed, for palanquins are rare in the +present-day Delhi of cabs and motorcars, nor is it the custom of +Mohammedan ladies, who ride in these picturesque conveyances, to call +upon officers of the empire. + +"If it's anybody to see me, tell 'em I have an appointment and they'll +have to wait," he instructed briefly, turning back. + +The house-boy disappeared, and Sir Francis resumed his seat. After a +moment the boy returned. + +"She says you have an appointment with her, O Presence!" + +The colonel stared. "What!" Pause. "By George! Perhaps you'd better show +her in!" + +He watched the doorway, and presently a white figure materialized. He +rose. The woman wore a _bhourka_--the long cotton garment that +Mohammedan ladies affect in public, and which leaves only the eyes +visible. + +"You wish to see me?" asked the Director of Central Intelligence. + +The hood of the _bhourka_ was thrown back ... and the colonel, who while +on duty hibernated under the armor of official dignity, came out of his +shell. No man would question her beauty, many her type. The features +were long and narrow, and a warm gold, suggesting an Aryan strain, +underlay her clear skin. The eyes, rather heavy-lidded, were baffling, +and of a deep violet shade--like the peaks of the Khyber after the +sunset gun at Jamrud Fort. Black hair clouded her face. + +"You are surprised to see me--like this?" she enquired, indicating the +_bhourka_. + +Her voice was low and rich, and marked by a huskiness that was rare in +that it was musical. Her English was flawless. + +"Well, rather!" confessed the colonel. + +"Am I late?"--as he drew up a chair for her. + +"On the minute," he lied. + +She smiled tolerantly. "Will you close the door, please?" + +With a speed that would have made his subalterns gasp, he hastened to +obey. + +"Since I received your telephone call," he told her, settling himself +behind the desk, "I have been all interest. What is it this time--more +plots against the Sirkar?" + +She made a grimace. "Plots spring up and die overnight! If I concerned +myself with such minor occurrences, I should be eternally occupied. I +told you I wished to see you regarding a matter of _importance_." + +She paused and he said: "Well?" + +"What happened on the night of June fourteenth?" + +He stared at her. "You don't mean--" + +"But I _do_." + +He drummed upon the desk. + +"You have not answered me," she reminded, after a moment. "What _did_ +happen on that night? Why not read me your files?" + +He unlocked a drawer of his desk and removed a file cabinet. From the +latter he took a sheaf of papers. + +"The Treasure House at Alwar was robbed," he said, his eyes upon the +papers in his hand. "The diamonds alone are worth ten thousand pounds, +and--but you don't want me to go into detail, do you? Well, gems valued +at three hundred thousand pounds, sterling, were spirited away from the +Nazarbagh Palace at Baroda. Tukaji Rao of Indore lost his Pearl Scarf +and the Peacock Turban. The treasury at Jodpur was looted. Scindia of +Gwalior's pearls were stolen. Others who were robbed are: your cousin, +the Nawab of Jehelumpore, the Nawab of Bahawalpur, the Rajah of Mysore +and the Rajah of Tanjore." He halted, raising his eyes. "In other words, +on the night of June fourteenth jewels worth millions of pounds were +snatched away under the very nose of the Government, without leaving one +single thread to grasp! If anyone had even suggested such a preposterous +thing before, I'd have laughed!" + +"Then the 'Delhi Post' did not tell the truth this morning," ventured +the woman, "when it said, 'the Intelligence Department has a valuable +clue'?" + +"Well, so we have," he admitted. + +"Chavigny?" + +He gave her a swift glance. "How did you know?" + +She dismissed the question with a shrug and said: + +"You agree with me, I am sure, Sir Francis, that these robberies are +connected; that it is highly improbable to think for an instant that in +nine cities thefts of famous jewels merely occurred simultaneously. As +for this Chavigny--judging from his reputation he is clever enough to +have done it. However, reflect upon the difficulties he would encounter. +India is not like Europe. There is caste to consider. He is a white man. +Furthermore, the jewels were stolen from state treasuries; from +buildings, in some instances vaults, that are not easily accessible." + +"Then you think it the work of some sort of organized band?" + +"I think exactly as you do," she replied cryptically, "only I have +foundation for my belief, while you are--rather, your department, +is--well, romancing." + +Silence fell. The man was the first to speak. + +"I'm to infer, then, that in your opinion Chavigny had nothing whatever +to do with the robberies?" + +She smiled. "Did I say that?" + +"At least, you hinted that there is something rather big behind the +thefts." + +She continued to smile and leaned upon the desk, facing him. + +"To come to the purpose of this call, Sir Francis. If you will give me +four months--and a free rein--you have my word that I will recover every +jewel that was stolen on the night of June fourteenth." + +It was with difficulty that the Director of Central Intelligence +smothered an impulse to smile and suggested soberly: + +"Won't you be more explicit? This is--well, from my viewpoint, it seems +rather incredible." + +"I mean, with the aid of one of your men I will do what your Department +could never accomplish. May I have him?" + +"The whole of the Secret Service is at your disposal!"--magnanimously. + +She gestured impatiently. "Woodenheads, all of them!" + +Sir Francis almost gasped. "Even Euan Kerth?" he managed to ask calmly. + +"I do not know Euan Kerth, but he is reputed to be the lion of your +Department. He would more than likely prove unmanageable. No, Euan Kerth +does not qualify." + +He chewed his lip. "Really, won't you throw a little more light on the +subject?" + +"No," she replied in mellifluous tones, with her most distracting smile. +"You recall what happened in the affair of Amar Singh, when your men +investigated? _I_ shall handle this after my own manner--or wash my +hands of it." + +Sir Francis' forehead wrinkled in an official frown. + +"This is most extraordinary! Is that a--er--threat?" + +"Dare one threaten the Intelligence Department?" she purred. + +He drummed upon the surface of his desk again. His thoughts at that +moment were none too pleasant. + +"Well, what are your terms?" came at length from him. + +She was aware that she was mistress of the situation, and she enjoyed +the position. + +"I wish to choose the man with whom I am to work," she began. "I am not +to be spied upon by your agents; in fact, the first indication of any +sort of surveillance will end our contract. The man I choose will not be +permitted to communicate with you, or with anyone, until we have +finished. He must obey me implicitly. If you agree to my terms, I shall +name a meeting-place, and from the instant this man enters the house he +is mine; he disappears from your observation completely until I give him +back to the Raj. Meanwhile, you will follow up the clues you have; you +will forget me, you will forget the man who is to help me--and at the +end of four months I will keep my pledge." + +Sir Francis concealed his thoughts under a smile, and well he did. + +"You ask the impossible. Why, that's preposterous!" + +"You question my loyalty?" + +A spark showed in the violet eyes--steel under the velvet. + +"Your loyalty is not involved in this discussion; it is simply that you +ask things that are unprecedented in the service." + +"The happenings of June fourteenth are without precedent," she returned +swiftly. "Come, Sir Francis, what are you losing in this venture? On the +contrary, you gain much. I want no credit; when I have finished I vanish +from the affair, completely. One of the stipulations is that my name +must not be mentioned in connection with the work. Simply, your +curiosity is piqued. And your masculine vanity suffers at the thought +that a woman can do what you, with your hundreds of eyes, can not. Be +reasonable. I give my word, a word that you have reason to know is +always kept, that your man shall come to no harm. You do not question my +loyalty, you say; then what reason for refusal have you? Simply that in +the stale, musty annals of your Department such a thing has never been +done!" + +The Director of Central Intelligence leaned back in his chair. + +"Do you know"--and he smiled as he said it--"I could have +you--er--detained as a suspicious person, if I felt so disposed." + +Her musical laughter rippled out. "But you do _not_ feel so disposed, +for what would it gain you?" + +Their eyes met and there followed a quick duel.... The man's smile was a +sign of defeat. + +"If you don't want a Secret Service man, whom _do_ you want?" + +"A man who has brains and imagination--and, besides those, honor." + +"Name him." + +"Major Arnold Trent of Gaya." + +Sir Francis lifted his eyebrows. "He is a doctor." + +"That is the way with you military men"--with a sigh. "If one is a +physician, you think he knows nothing but what is taught in schools of +medicine! I want some one whose brain is free of tiresome Secret Service +rules." + +The Colonel smiled. "You are a very resourceful woman," he declared. + +"That means you accept?" + +"It means I recognize your ability, and that I shall communicate with +the Viceroy to-morrow and give you my decision as soon as possible." + +She smiled her approval and rose. + +"Then I shall not prolong this interview. Good night, Sir Francis." + +She gave him her hand and moved to the door, where she halted, turning +back. + +"I nearly forgot," she said. "There is one other clause in the +agreement. Major Trent must be kept in ignorance of the party with whom +he is to work. To him you may call me--well, the Swaying Cobra." She +smiled again. "By that name I was known when I danced on the Continent." + +Then she departed, melting into the dusky hallway. + +After a moment Sir Francis moved to the window and parted the draperies +slightly. The palanquin was passing, swimming in yellow moonlight. He +watched it until it lost itself in shadows. + +"Now what the deuce!" he muttered. + +He resumed his seat and searched several drawers until he found a black +book; then he ran through the pages, halting at: "_Trent, Arnold Ralph, +Major, R. A. M. C...._" He read the lines following the name; took the +receiver from a telephone on his desk; called for a number. + +"Kane?" he asked when he was connected. "Duncraigie. You might come out +this way to-night. Important matter. Sarojini Nanjee just called. What! +Surely you remember _her_! Connection of the Nawab of Jehelumpore; +danced in London and Paris for a while. Half white, fourth Rajput, and +the rest devil." He chuckled. "Thought you'd recall _her_. I'll be +waiting for you." + +He placed the receiver upon the hook and sat staring reflectively at the +doorway where the woman of the _bhourka_ disappeared. + +"Hell-cat!" he said aloud. + +Which may or may not have been the impression she intended to give. + + +3 + +An hour after the interview with the Director of Central Intelligence, +Sarojini Nanjee lay back in a great cane chair in the living-room of her +bungalow, idly watching the smoke from her cigarette as it spiraled +upward and was rent into vaporous tatters by the electric punkah. + +The room, like its occupant, was exotic. A Kyoto gong kindled a bright +spot among softer tones--rare rugs, brocade hangings, and a tall lamp +afloat on the shadows, like an amber island. The woman seemed to melt +into it, her very attitude expressing its utter luxury. Deep iris-hued +eyes dreamed under heavy lids. Her skin glowed with a golden sheen, and +the lacy folds of a negligee fell sheer from her slender ankles and +embroidered the carpet with foamy white. + +She had been thus for some time, her brain immersed in a languor, her +thoughts propelled with as little mental volition as possible. She +stirred only to flick the cigarette-ashes into a brass bowl at her +elbow, or to arch one arm above her head in a gesture of complete +abandon. A passing recollection of her call at Sir Francis Duncraigie's +residence invariably caused a faint, inscrutable smile to slip into her +eyes. But for the most part she did not burden herself with either +thought or retrospection; merely sat in the dull, sweet stupor of +semi-inertia. + +A night beetle rattled harshly outside. The sound came to the woman as a +sudden recall from her absorption. She placed her nearly burnt-out +cigarette in the ash-bowl; stretched, rose, and struck the Kyoto gong. +As the rich, deep-throated echo sank into a hush, the curtains on one +side of the room parted and a servant in white garments and a blue +turban entered. + +"I shall retire now, Chandra Lal," she announced quietly. "You have your +instructions." + +"Yes, Heavenborn!" + +"You remember the place--the room?" + +"How could I forget, Heavenborn?" + +"You will"--she hesitated--"cause no injury unless necessary." + +"Nay, Heavenborn!" + +"Stop calling me that!"--irritably. + +Scarlet betel-stained teeth were revealed in a smile. + +"Very well, Memsahib." + +"You may go now." + +"To hear is to obey, Memsahib!" + +The blue-turbaned Chandra Lal slipped noiselessly between the curtains. + +Sarojini Nanjee moved to a door in the other end of the room, paused +tentatively and stepped over the threshold. The door closed behind her. + +And as she left the room, Chandra Lal reappeared. + +He stood motionless in the division of the curtains, listening; then +crept softly to a desk in a dusky corner. He produced a key from his +breeches; fitted it into a lock; opened a drawer. For several seconds +his hands moved swiftly, silently through the papers within. After that +he wrote a line on a small scrap of paper. This he folded and slipped +under the edge of his blue turban. + +Noiselessly he locked the drawer and recrossed the room. At the doorway +he looked back.... The curtains fell together behind him. + + +4 + +Dana Charteris sat before a mirror in her room at the hotel and released +her hair from all restraining pins. It tumbled over her shoulders in +ripples of gold; little bronze-tipped waves, rather reddish, glowed with +soft fire under the searching rays of the electric lamp. The face that +looked back at her from the mirror, a face framed in the shimmering +copperish masses, had a lustrous pallor. She returned the stare of her +own image solemnly and realized, not for the first time, that while the +features in the mirror were those of a girl, there were hints of +maturity. The fullness of the throat, of the lips, and the sympathetic, +almost poignant expression in the brown eyes. + +She sighed, then hummed a little tune as she ran a comb through the +thick strands. The odor of tobacco floated to her from the adjoining +room where Alan was making out a report. She liked the smell; it was +clean and masculine. + +When she had plaited her hair into two long braids, she slipped into a +dressing-gown and pattered into her brother's room in bedroom sandals. + +"Alan," she said, slipping her arms about his neck, "it's so wonderful +to be with you! Why, just think, two months ago I was teaching music in +Bayou Latouche!" + +He put his pipe aside. + +"To-morrow we'll ramble about the city, through the Fort and the +bazaars," he told her. "And the next day--to Lahore." + +"I always think of Lahore with a picture of _Kim_ sitting on +'_Zam-zammah_'." + +He smiled. "Then to Peshawar and the Khyber. I've an old friend at Ali +Masjid Fort and he's promised to take us through the Pass." + +Then he rose, picked her up bodily and carried her into her room, +placing her upon the bed. + +"Good night; sleep tight!" + +He kissed her, turned out the light and returned to his room. + +Dana slipped out of her dressing-gown; flung it across the foot of the +bed; dropped her slippers upon the floor. Then she lay back upon the +pillows, watching the moonlight that streamed in through the open +casement. + +The wide-flung windows yielded a view of the sky and the white Indian +stars. In her fancy she likened them to a string of jewels. Jewels. That +word brought to her mind a picture of the looted treasures of which Alan +had told her. Gems. What fascinating things! Jewels of rajahs and +maharajahs, the pomp and rust of pagan rulers! Diamonds stripped from +idols' eyes, and rubies and sapphires pillaged from the vaults of +ancient temples! She had heard stories of the pearl fisheries of Ceylon +where stones were stolen and hidden in cobras, even in human bodies.... +India, mother of intrigue. She shivered. + +She could not forget the copy of the Pearl Scarf of Indore. It haunted +her.... Pearls.... Chavigny, a thief of international notoriety.... +Alan's pen was scratching steadily on in the next room. The odor of +tobacco was comforting. It made her forget the jewels of Ind; conjured +in her mind a picture of the great, pillared house at Bayou Latouche. +And she was still thinking of Bayou Latouche, and hearing faintly the +_scratch-scratch_ of the pen, when she fell asleep. + + +5 + +Dana awakened with a start. Involuntarily she sat up in bed, staring +drowsily about the room. It was buried in dusk. The moonlight, floating +through the casement, crusted the floor with a band of pearl. As full +consciousness wiped the threads of sleep from her brain, she wondered +what had caused her sudden awakening. No noise, for silence shut down +like a lid, made more intense by the sighing of trees beyond the stone +terrace. The sounds of a clock on the dressing-table seemed to stitch +the hush. + +For a moment she sat there, vaguely uneasy; then swung her feet over the +side and slipped them into bedroom sandals. Moving quietly to the +dressing-table, she looked at the clock. After one.... Her sandals +lisped on the floor as she crept to the window. + +Delhi lay asleep in the breathless night. Temple, tower, dome and +minaret swam in the moonlight, and in the jungle stretch by the river +jackals were laughing hysterically. With a little shiver she returned to +the bed. + +Strange to awaken like this, she thought. The new surroundings probably. +She sighed and settled deeper in the bed. + +... She was almost asleep when a shadow flitted across her vision. At +first it seemed a part of the slumber that had nearly overcome her, and +she lay there contemplating the window-casement where it had passed +until it was borne to her, suddenly, and not without a shock, that she +was fully awake and the shadow was not a shadow, but a very substantial +human form that had stolen by on the stone terrace. The realization drew +her muscles rigid, and she lay motionless, listening to the hammering of +her heart. + +A faint scraping noise came from Alan's room. What was it, a footfall? +An oblong reservoir of darkness outlined the doorway. She could see +nothing.... She must move, must call her brother. But her body was +locked in a temporary paralysis, her tongue dry. + +Again the sound. Unmistakable. Some one was walking stealthily. The +crackle of paper. + +Her fright increased, swelled, became so acute that she could no longer +endure it. + +"Alan!" + +It was not a scream; a whisper. She found that she could move, and she +sat up. + +From the next room came a series of thuds; bare feet on the floor. + +"Damn you--" + +She leaped out of bed. + +A ripping sound. A groan. Another thud, heavier this time. + +Dana reached the communicating door in a few steps. A quick intake of +breath. Her hands closed upon the door-frame, tightened convulsively. +Dimness swam visibly before her. Through the dark mist she saw a figure +dart out upon the stone terrace and disappear. + +Beside the bed, stretched full length upon the floor, was a white form. + +She screamed. The dimness dissolved and she rushed to the body. + +"Alan! Alan!" + +She grasped his shoulders, dizzy, cold with horror. Involuntarily she +drew one hand away and saw a dark stain upon her fingers. It seemed to +glare out and strike her eyes. She fought against a gathering weakness; +forced herself to feel his heart. Beating. But that white face! And how +could she lift him to the bed, how-- + +Footsteps rang from the hall. Came a knock at the door; a voice +penetrated the panels. + +Dana rose, found the light-switch and turned it. The flood of yellow +gave warmth and strength to her--showed her a blue coil in the middle of +the room. Dimly she realized it was a turban cloth--probably torn from +the intruder's head. She did not touch it, but unlocked the door. + +The Eurasian proprietor stood outside, in a dressing-gown. Behind him +was a dark-skinned porter. A door opened further along the hall. + +"My brother!" she gasped, motioning toward the white form. + +The Eurasian spoke to the porter. They entered and placed the +unconscious man upon the bed. Oblivious of the fact that she was clad +only in a nightdress, Dana stood by, trying to collect her scattered +faculties. + +"If you will call a doctor," she said, "I'll attend to him now." + +"Yes, madam. I'll have the boy fetch some water and smelling-salts from +my wife's room. How did this happen?" + +"I--I can't think--now," she returned dazedly. "Later...." + +The Eurasian said something, but she did not remember what it was; +remembered only that he and the porter went out. A moment after the door +closed she heard voices in the hall. + +"O Alan!" she pleaded, bending over her brother. "Can't you hear me?" + +Several minutes passed before he showed any symptoms of reviving; then +he mumbled a few unintelligible words, and the lids drew back from his +eyes. + +"Dana!"--weakly. "He--took it--" + +"What, Alan, dear?" + +"The scarf--confounded imitation." He closed his eyes; opened them an +instant later. "I'll be all right,"--with a smile. "Nothing serious. +Don't mention the scarf, or anything about it. Just say--thief...." The +lids sank over his eyes. "Imitation," he muttered. And fainted again. + +... The Eurasian returned shortly, with the porter at his heels. The +latter carried a basin of water and several bottles. + +"If you'll allow me to attend to him," offered the proprietor, "it will +spare you much unpleasantness." + +Dana nodded and sank into a chair, shivering. + +Nearly an hour passed before the doctor arrived. Alan had regained +consciousness, but fainted during the examination. Dana, standing beside +the bed in her negligee, waited nervously to hear the decision. + +"I don't think you have any cause to be uneasy," said the doctor, after +what seemed an interminable time. "The wound isn't serious--only the +muscles and tissues punctured--nothing internal. But I'm going to +suggest, rather, insist, that he go to a hospital." + +"By all means," agreed Dana, very close to tears. "I want everything +possible done for him." + +The doctor smiled sympathetically. "Be sure we'll do all we can," he +assured her. "Now, if you'll have some one fetch a basin of water, +boiled, I'll get at this dressing." + +Close to dawn, after the doctor had departed and Alan was conscious, +Dana went to her room to dress. At the doorway she paused--for the blue +turban-cloth lay coiled upon the threshold where she had tossed it. +Incidents of greater importance had crowded the remembrance of it from +her brain. Now she stooped and picked it up, rather gingerly. Queer. For +imitation pearls! + +She lowered her eyes, suddenly, involuntarily--as though in obedience to +a subconscious command. + +On the spot where the turban-cloth had lain was a small scrap of paper. + + * * * * * + +Thus, having jested with a puppet at Indore and given a thread into the +hands of Dana Charteris, Destiny, capricious as the winds, turned toward +the officer of the empire upon whom a chalk-mark had previously been +placed. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A PIECE OF CORAL + + +Sunset was spreading a fan of flamingo plumes above Meera, a native +village to the northward of Gaya, when Arnold Trent (unaware that +Destiny had been hovering over him since Dana Charteris found the scrap +of paper, in Delhi, three days before) clattered out of the jungle and +along the nearly deserted main street. At the council-tree, where the +headman of the village sat and chewed betel-leaf, he drew rein, +listening to a low, eerie wailing that came from one of the whitewashed +houses. + +"It is Chatterjee," volunteered the headman. "His Ratanamma is dead, +Dakktar Sahib." + +Trent swung down from his saddle. "When did it happen, Ranjeet Singh?" + +"Not an hour past, Dakktar Sahib." + +Trent's eyes roved up and down the street. "Where's everybody? Meera +looks as if a plague had struck it." + +Ranjeet Singh, who was a Jain, spat contemptuously. + +"Some vermin-ridden priests from Tibet are at the Sacred Bo-tree," he +explained, "and the worshippers of Gaudama have swarmed thither, like +flies to a dung-feast!" + +Trent smiled slightly and moved toward one of the whitewashed houses, +swinging along with the leisurely, easy stride of one poised on +well-controlled muscles. At the door he paused. It was dark within, and +a breath of offal and man-reek greeted him. After a moment he saw, +against the darkness, the pale silhouette of a white-clad figure. From +this figure came the eerie wails. + +"Chatterjee!" Trent called. + +The silhouette ceased wailing long enough to quaver: "Dakktar Sahib!" + +The Englishman, his eyes now accustomed to the gloom, strode over to a +thong-strung bed and peered down at the form stretched upon it. Unable +to see clearly, he struck a match. The tiny flare flickered upon bare +brown skin.... Trent swore. + +"Stop that damned nonsense!" he commanded. "Chatterjee, you've had some +infernal _hakim_ here again--against my orders!" + +"My little Ratanamma, dove of my bosom, is dead!" wailed the man. + +"Did you give her the medicine I left?" + +"Yes, Dakktar Sahib! It was your medicine that killed her. The _hakim_ +said so." + +Trent swore again. "I've a notion to report you to the Karnal Sahib and +have you taken up! You old murderer! Didn't you know better than to let +some filthy, stinking _hakim_ burn her stomach with a hot iron?" + +The native was wailing again. + +"Listen to me, Chatterjee," said Trent sternly, gripping the man's +shoulder. "Who did this?" + +"Your medicine, Dakktar Sahib!" + +Trent shook him roughly. "Will you answer me--or...." + +"Your medicine, Dakktar Sahib!" insisted the man. + +Trent released him, realizing the futility of pressing the question. + +"Very well. I'll report you to the Karnal Sahib and he'll have you +strung up by your toes!" + +He left the house abruptly--followed by feverish, glowing eyes. + +Out of Meera he rode, past the temple on the river bank and along the +jungle-lined road toward Gaya. + +Trent was angry. But his face gave no indication of it. Twenty-three +years under a tropical sun (add the ten years at school in Britain and +you'll have his age) had baked his skin to a leather brown, and a third +of that time spent in the army had taught him that impassivity is man's +chief advantage--a citadel against the aggressive. He had, in the +vernacular of the times, a "poker face"--the mask of those who share +their secrets with few. In either mufti or khaki he was not particularly +handsome, and this evening, after a day of work in viscid heat, he was +almost ugly. Dust was ingrained into his skin, like an ocher pigment; +his throat and brows were moist with perspiration. Yet there was about +him something arresting and vital--a challenging strength that +pronounced him a man's man. And he was. He talked with men; ate with +men; lived with men; understood men. Scales that dip into earth-dust and +swing again to regions of exquisite idealism--the eternal weight and +counter-weight of Self. That was how he defined them. And his +definitions were usually metaphors. An idiosyncrasy. Give him a chair in +a dim room with one of Beethoven's sonatas swelling in throat-gripping +chords, or a pipe and congenial darkness somewhere close to the stars, +and he was in his prime element. + +As for women.... That there had been one--one or more--at some time in +his life, nobody who knew him doubted; but it was the general opinion at +Gaya and thereabouts that he was as little concerned with women as with +anything else that habited the planet. Envious subordinates hinted that +at one time or other he had run afoul some feminine reef. When these +remarks drifted to Trent (and such remarks always do) he only smiled, +for he had a generous supply of humor packed away under his impassivity. +It was never known that he deliberately avoided women; it appeared that +he simply accepted them as a matter of form, inevitable as waves on a +sea, and sometimes as disastrous. + +Only Richard Manlove, also an army doctor, who shared his +bungalow, had penetrated beyond the outer-rampart of his seeming +seclusiveness--"Dicky" Manlove whom Trent first saw out in dead +Mesopotamia. Their friendship was a popular topic of discussion on warm +afternoons when feminine Gaya gathered to perspire under one common +punkah. So different, you know.... Young "Dicky"--a delicious boy ... +and the major--oh, rather a decent chap, a human manual of Hindustani +and all those other perfectly impossible languages, but ... well, it's +so disconcerting not to know what a man is thinking, isn't it? + +Thus feminine Gaya catalogued him, and thus he appeared--immobile--this +late afternoon as he rode out of Meera. + +His anger died as he trotted on, and by the time he came within view of +his bungalow, built on the flank of one of Gaya's hills, he was +watching, in a whimsical, almost detached manner, the fireflies dance +and reel in the dusk. When he drew nearer, he saw a figure in a white +dress leave his compound, a figure that paused at the diverging roads +not far from the bungalow, and, after a slight hesitation, chose the +branch in his direction. Instantly he indexed her as a stranger; no +female resident would think of using the isolated Meera road after dusk. + +She wore a pith helmet with a veil. The veil was lifted, but as he +approached, she lowered it--curiously enough, he thought. He was certain +she had come from his compound; therefore, when she was within a few +yards, he drew rein. + +"Your pardon...." as he lifted his helmet. "Do you wish to see me? I'm +Major Trent." + +She halted, resting one hand upon a tree-trunk. He caught the glint of a +bracelet on her white arm, and, being a man to notice details, observed +a design worked in heavy relief upon it--a design that, in the half-tone +of the early night, was almost indistinguishable. + +"No," came the answer from under the veil, in a voice with a soft, +thrilling timbre. "No." + +He was still studying the bracelet out of the corner of his eye, and he +perceived that the intricate workmanship represented a king-cobra; its +hood was lifted in bizarre relief.... A barbaric ornament for a white +woman to wear, he thought. + +"But, really," he persisted, "it isn't quite safe for you to go along +this road. Beasts, you know." + +A pause. He saw the dark pools of her eyes upon him. + +"Thank you," she murmured. "I thought I was going to the dak bungalow." + +With that she turned and moved away in the direction of the metalled +main highway. + +"Now, that's queer," he observed to himself, staring after her. "Anybody +with even bad sight could see that this road...." Certainly she was at +the compound gate. Why had she falsified? + +He removed his helmet and furrowed his hair--a characteristic gesture; +then, still watching the woman, he jerked the reins and trotted toward +the bungalow. + + +2 + +A native servant in a white cotton _chuddah_ and turban switched on the +light in the living-room as Trent entered. + +"Has Manlove Sahib come in, Ganeesh?" asked the Englishman. + +"No, Dakktar Sahib." + +Trent placed his helmet upon the table and sank into a chair. + +"I sha'n't want anything to eat, so you may as well go. If Manlove Sahib +hasn't eaten, he can go to the barracks." + +As the native quitted the room, Trent, at a sudden thought, called after +him. + +"Ganeesh," he said, as his servant reappeared, "has anyone been here +this afternoon?" + +"No, Dakktar Sahib." + +"Didn't a lady call a few minutes ago?" + +The man answered in the negative. + +"Hmm. Very well. That's all." + +Still puzzling over the strange woman, he removed a pipe and a sack of +tobacco from his shirt pocket, and when he had filled the bowl he +lighted it. For several minutes he drew upon the amber stem, looking +abstractedly into the whorls of smoke; then he picked up a brown volume +from the table and opened it at a leaf that was turned under. + +Here was another trait that Gaya had not discovered. Frequently when he +was tired he turned to poetry--sometimes to books on the art-treasures +and ancient lore of India, Indo-China and China--for relaxation. + +His eyes followed these lines: + + Star of the South that now through orient mist, + At nightfall off Tampico or Belize, + Greetest the sailor, rising from those seas + Where first in me, a fond romanticist, + The tropic sunset's bloom on cloudy piles + Cast out industrious cares with dreams of fabulous isles. + +He rather fancied that passage. Fabulous isles. His brain toyed with the +thought. For, although he walked down among mortals, sheathing himself +in indifference and impassivity, he kept, in secret, a ladder to the +stars--a concession to return at will to a guarded kingdom of his youth, +the dominion of Romance and Adventure. He would have dwelt in this +kingdom, secluded from earth, but for a thorn that was fastened deep +within him. This thorn had pricked him since that period of adolescence +when first visions and aspirations stirred in his boyish brain and set +him to dreaming of the future. It had goaded him relentlessly into +achievement, against the will of his adventurous spirit. + +Strive as he might, he could not draw it out. + +It was Ambition. + +Because of it he had buried a dream that at odd moments returned and +haunted him, like the poignantly sweet odor of lavender rising from +packed-away treasures. Reckless, this dream, dangerous. To forsake the +dull earth; drink freedom from the winds. A passion for the open +spaces--to explore the fabulous isles. But the lure of uncharted seas +and archipelagoes beyond the sunset, sheer and calling as they were, +could not entice him to trample tradition. Ambition had won. And he +beheld himself now, at thirty-three, a romantic soul armored in realism; +at heart a boy who had never broken away from the age when flapping +canvas and groaning timbers cause a queer clutching in the throat. His +reckless impulses and desires were bitted and diverted into +accomplishment. He was a success. But there were times, often in the +dead of the night, with the jungle solitude challenging speech, when he +realized that, in his own eyes, he was a failure. + +He sighed unconsciously, almost inaudibly, and his sea-green eyes +softened to gray as he fashioned, extravagantly, a blue dragon in the +tobacco smoke that coiled sinuously toward the ceiling; sighed, as he +often did in the quiet of his own quarters where only the walls might +hear. + +His thoughts switched involuntarily to the present (and his eyes lost +some of their grayness, for their color seemed to change with his moods) +and focused upon the communication he had received that morning. Under +the precise military wording he sensed another element. Mystery. After +all these prosaic years was he to be drawn out of his cocoon of +medicines and gauze bandages and have his adventure? In all probability +the affair would prove drab enough. Adventure? Well, hardly. Things of +the sort set forth in the dispatch were usually rather unpleasant. Yet +it intrigued him. Blindfolded. And was not that it? + +"... temporarily attached to ... Euan Kerth ... a woman called the +Swaying Cobra...." + +Fragments of the communication filtered through his brain. Strange. From +pills and antiseptics to that! It _was_ leaving a cocoon! What a joke to +tell Manlove. Dear old Manlove--this with warmth. + +The sounds of walking in the compound announced the object of his +thoughts. The footsteps drew nearer, crossed the veranda, and Manlove, +uniformed and helmeted, entered. + +"Rum day," he said. "Hot as Tophet; everything wrong." + +Trent made no comment; only nodded. + +"There's a big shindy up at the Sacred Bo-tree," the other added. "Some +Tibetan lamas are there. I stopped by with Herrick." + +He took off his helmet, the removal revealing to the light a tanned, +boyish face and a healthy thatch of hair; mopped his forehead and flung +his headgear carelessly across the room. That was his way, to appear +careless. But at heart he was not; he liked small boundaries (while +Trent craved larger ranges), homely things. He looked forward to the +time when he would come into possession of "Gray Towers," ancestral +abiding-place of the Manloves. Of course, he didn't want his +grandfather, more familiarly known as the Old Fellow, to die or anything +like that; he was simply prepared for the inevitable: The Right +Honorable Richard Auckland Manlove, sitting in the House of Lords and +presenting Colonial improvement measures, for India in particular; no +longer "Dicky" Manlove, irresponsible adventurer, but carrying the +ponderous dignity of the name.... It was all very impressive.... + +"Mrs. Dalhousie is giving a lawn party to-night," he announced, taking a +chair. "Impromptu. She told me to drag you along, if you'd come." + +"Sorry," returned Trent. "I'm leaving for Benares early in the morning. +I'll be occupied to-night. Orders from Delhi." + +Manlove withdrew a cigarette case from under his tunic, opened it, took +out a smoke and placed it between his lips before he spoke. + +"Deuce you say! Not transferred?" + +"Temporarily detached; special service. You and Conningsby will have to +take charge while I'm away." He smiled. "Been reading the papers +lately?" + +Manlove lighted his cigarette, glancing furtively at Trent. The latter +was staring into the blue haze of smoke, half humorously, as though he +found something amusing in the vaporous clouds. + +"Certainly"--thus Manlove. + +"Anything new about the jewels?" + +Manlove smiled to himself. He hadn't lived in the same house with Arnold +Trent for fourteen months without learning _something_ about him. The +old sphinx, he thought good-humoredly. + +"Nothing important"--briefly. "However, I understand, from Granville, +that the Department believes an international thief--Chavigny's his +name--mixed up in it." + +"Wonder where Granville got that?" + +"Oh, rumors are plentiful, especially at stations like this where +everybody's chief occupation is talk." + +"That all?" + +Manlove nodded and said nothing, for he knew Trent. + +"Have you approximated the value of the stolen gems?" queried the +latter, then went on: "Millions of pounds! And have you wondered how the +devil they're going to hide the loot, or get it out of India? Such well +known jewels can't be sold--" + +"Unless they're re-cut," put in Manlove. He smiled wisely. "By Kali and +all the other deities, you don't mean that you, expert in cholera and +dysentery, are about to--" He chuckled. "Well, I'm damned!" + +Trent moved to a desk in a corner of the room, unlocked it and took out +a long, official-looking document. This he handed to Manlove, then +resumed his seat. The latter unfolded it and let his eyes travel down +the sheet. + +"Has the heat gone to their heads at Delhi?" he demanded when he had +finished. "Almighty God, why detach a perfectly good doctor, when they +have a whole list of Secret Service men?" + +Trent only smiled. The younger man waved his hand toward the paper. + +"Surely this isn't all?" + +"You know as much as I do. I leave in the morning for Benares. At the +hotel I'm to meet a fellow called Kerth--" + +"Euan Kerth," Manlove interrupted, his eyes upon the document. "You've +heard of him, haven't you? He's the best of his sort in India. He's been +in Tibet; was one of Younghusband's interpreters in nineteen-four. +Speaks Hindustani, Burmese, mandarin Chinese, Tibetan, and God knows +what else! You and he ought to hit it off fairly well together. But go +on." + +"I'm to meet him at the hotel," Trent resumed. "Just what part he plays, +I don't know yet. There I'm also to find a message from this Swaying +Cobra woman, and meet her at a place named in the message. And--well, +that's all." He smiled. "Enlightening, isn't it?" + +As he finished, Manlove strode to the door and tossed away his +cigarette. There he paused, peering out. + +"Where's Ganeesh?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. + +"I let him go for the evening. Why?" + +"Just saw some one leave the compound; must have been he." Manlove +returned to his chair. "Trent, I envy you--even if they are balmy at +Delhi. This doctoring heathens isn't all it's colored up to be. It's +getting on my nerves. I even dream about fever and stinking _fakirs_." + +Trent consulted his wrist-watch. "I have to ride up to Colonel Urqhart's +and make a report. Remember the chap at Meera, Chatterjee? Some _hakim_ +burned his child's stomach with an iron. Of course she died. I'm going +to make an example of him." He rose. "I have to wash up a bit. I suppose +you're going to the lawn party?" + +"Think not," decided Manlove. "I'll be here when you return." + +"Care to ride up with me?" + +"No. I'm rather tired." + +Trent went to his bedroom and Manlove lighted another cigarette. He'd +miss the old sphinx, he told himself. Good old Trent! Why hadn't he +married? Frequently he asked himself that question; never Trent. There +must be a reason, he mused, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. Maybe +there had been a woman--a typhoon. The typhoon sort could raise the +deuce with a chap like Trent. Perhaps.... He stifled a yawn. Damn India; +damn its climate. He hadn't taken his leave this season; it was about +due now. A jolly trip home; see the Old Fellow; see "Gray Towers." + +He heard Trent moving about in the rear. He couldn't picture him +sleuthing it. Queer world anyhow. And Benares. What was afoot? + +Another yawn. He flung his half-smoked cigarette through the doorway, +and it fell upon the veranda in a mild shower of sparks, and lay there, +its red tip glowing like a malevolent little eye. + + +3 + +It was after nine o'clock when Trent rode out of Sahib's Gaya and around +the shoulder of a hill toward his bungalow. A golden moon floated in +nebulous haze--an electric disc that transfused its heat into the night. +The earth steamed and sweltered, and the perfumes of tropical blossoms +stole out of the jungle and exhaled a heavy languor. + +Trent, pipe clamped between his teeth, sweat running into his eyes from +his helmet-band, jogged along, thinking leisurely (as men do in warmer +climates) of the woman of the cobra-bracelet, and thinking more of the +bracelet than the woman. It was one of his peculiarities to collect rare +ornaments; among his curios he had a bangle of a Nepalese princess, a +Burmese bell from a pagoda in the Pyinmana district, and a +silver-chased, turquoise-inset teapot from Tibet. The bracelet the woman +wore was finely wrought, and its design not of the ordinary; this he +recognized, even though he had but a glimpse of it. A king-cobra with a +lifted hood. And the wearer.... Why had she lowered her veil--why had +she denied that she came from his compound? Mystery.... But, he +reflected, mysteries were not rare; mysteries, to such as he, in the +jungle; in the ruins and tumbled grandeur of ancient temples; in the +dim, dark bazaars, spice-reeking, where filth mocks British law, and +Love and Death are one.... + +A white figure, ahead in the scented gloom, broke into his thoughts, a +figure that at first was distinguishable only as a stain of pallor on +the roadway. Trent experienced a quickening of interest. She of the +cobra-bracelet? No. He could see now. Not a woman; a native. The man was +moving at a swift gait, almost running; but as he drew nearer, he +halted, looking about irresolutely, nervously. And at that moment (he +was not more than ten yards away) Trent recognized him and reined in his +mare. + +"Chatterjee!" he called. "D'ye want to see me?" + +The native did not answer, only fixed upon him a mute, terrified stare, +and crashed through the high, dense undergrowth at the side of the road. +The sounds of his flight grew fainter as he plunged deeper into the +jungle. + +Trent stared at the spot where he disappeared. His first impulse was to +follow--an impulse that he cast aside. Now that was odd, he thought. +What in flaming hades was the matter with him? For a moment he sat in +mystified silence, then he kicked his mount lightly in the flanks. + +A day of incidents. First, the dispatch from Delhi, then the veiled +woman, now this encounter. From where had the native come? The bungalow? +Perhaps he was merely on his way from Meera, for the road passed his +quarters. But he knew natives never walked when it was possible to ride. +Anyhow, that didn't explain his actions. Confound it, he'd have trouble +with that fellow yet! This as he branched off from the main highway and +clattered along the driveway to his compound. + +Not until he reached the gate did he observe that the house was dark, +squatting in gloomy secrecy among the surrounding trees. At first it +puzzled him; then he decided that Manlove had probably gone to bed. + +When his mare was stabled, he made his way into the living-room. In the +dark he struck his knee on a sharp projection and swore. He fumbled for +the light-switch; blinked in the sudden glare. A yawn and an indolent +stretch. He'd get a good sleep and-- + +"Hello!" he exclaimed, as his eyes trailed across the room to an +over-turned chair. "What the devil!" + +A piece of bronze, some Hindu god, lay on the floor, gleaming +sinisterly, and a picture--its regular place was on the desk--had fallen +to the floor. An insidious thought took root in his brain. With quick +strides he reached Manlove's room. It was empty, the bed unused. Its +desertion hurt him--a queer sensation, that. He whirled about, returned +to the living-room and halted, irresolute. + +"Manlove!" + +Silly to call, he thought. Perhaps Manlove had gone to the lawn party. +But the over-turned chair and the idol did not look well. Thieves? +Or.... Suddenly the meeting with Chatterjee shaped into significance. He +knew the workings of the native brain, and a frightful possibility +suggested itself. + +An electric torch lay on the table. He reached for it; stood with his +hands poised in the air, thought temporarily suspended from action. For +his eyes, lowered involuntarily, fastened upon a small, dark spot on the +matting. + +Regaining the power to move, he stooped. A sudden sickness seized him. +Unmistakable. But why did blood affect him? Blood. The discovery added a +spark to his suspicions. His imagination painted a swift, vivid picture. +The look of terror on Chatterjee's face.... Manlove, the innocent.... +But no! It couldn't be! + +In possession of the torchlight, he strode out upon the veranda. There +he discovered a trail of spots identical with that on the matting, a +trail that led down the steps. He made a quick search of the compound. A +sense of helplessness smote him. Manlove, perhaps somewhere within +calling distance, yet unable to summon him.... + +He halted at the gate. On the left was jungle, dark and hushed; on the +right, a few lights in the nearest bungalow. Across the road was the +mouth of a narrow path which he knew led to the ruins of an old temple +hidden behind the rank foliage. At thought of the ruins an impulse made +him forsake the compound and follow the path. + +Less than two hundred yards from the road the growths thinned. Looming +before him, spectral in the yellow mystery of the moonlight, was the +temple. The outer court was throttled with weeds. Luxurious vines +trailed from ruined pillar to ruined wall and wove a sanctuary for +vipers. At the end of an avenue of crumbled columns gaped the black +entrance of the inner court. An impalpable vapor steamed up from the +moist plants and bathed the ruins in a dream-like haze, as the blurred +waters of the ocean engulf and make fantastic the myriad rock-palaces of +the sea-bottoms. + +The dark inner court challenged Trent, and he snapped off the light and +moved between the stone sentinels. A power, terrifying in its vagueness, +pressed upon him, locking his muscles in a tension. A bat, startled out +of hiding by the ring of his footsteps, flapped up from the parapet and +wheeled across the moon's face. But for that, and an occasional rasp of +an insect, the temple was swathed in a hush. + +In the doorway of the inner court he paused. He groped for the shattered +frame; clutched something tangible; fought against a terrible paralysis. + +Yellow moonshine poured through a rent in the ceiling, drenched the +walls and formed a honey-hued pool on the flagging. + +In the wan light lay a human form. + +A deadly inertia coiled about Trent's brain and body. For a moment he +was unable to think, to do other than struggle against the constricting +coils of horror. But at length he broke the rigor. A few steps brought +him to the pool of moonlight. He knelt; switched on the torch; saw the +face. Dull agony spread from his throat to his limbs. In that instant he +seemed to slip back through a millennium and endure the concentrated +pains of a hundred bodies--a flame of cosmic anguish burning down +through the dim jungles of time. + +Automatically his hand went to the heart, but before his trained fingers +touched the breast he knew that to feel was useless. Dark moisture +stained the tunic-front. He unbuttoned the garments. Knife wound! +Manlove had been dead at least a half hour. + +The infinitesimal fraction of a minute that he knelt there might have +been an hour for the multitude of irrelevances that sped through his +brain. Orders. Benares.... And he had cursed when he struck his knee! +Had Manlove ridden with him to Colonel Urqhart's this would not have +happened. Urqhart; what an absurd name.... Murder. In a vague manner he +wondered who had done it; in a vague manner he felt angry. Dead. +Impossible. This must be a dream, a horrid nightmare. Damn these +nightmares! It was the heat ... heat.... His comrade.... Kasvin.... +Kut-el-Amara. And this was the end! The futility of things swept him, a +chill and shuddersome tide that served to wash some of the tangles from +his thoughts. + +He rose. He felt giddy, and the inner court, with its shadows, its pool +of moonshine, swam in a throat-gripping vertigo. But it passed swiftly. +Out of the mental chaos emerged a coherency: perhaps the one who had +done this was still in or about the temple. The remembrance of +Chatterjee immediately appeared to deny it. A solution of the affair +unreeled quickly. Chatterjee, the avenger ... a fatal mistake. That +explained the native's look of terror when he met Trent on the road, +explained his flight. + +Nevertheless, Trent made a search of the ruins and returned to the body. +The face, outlined boyishly in the pallid moonlight, commanded his gaze +with hypnotic insistence. Now that the first acute horror had dwindled, +he was conscious of an abysmal loneliness, an ache that habited every +nerve and fiber of his being. + +He must notify Colonel Urqhart. But the body, what of that? He couldn't +leave it lying in this den of vipers. The very suggestion horrified him, +although he knew the body was but a husk of flesh. He had some +authority; he'd act on his own responsibility. + +An involuntary dread ran through him as he slipped his hands under the +inert form and lifted it. His sight blurred, but he moved with a steady +stride across the courtyard and through the gate. Upon reaching the +bungalow, he laid the body upon the bed in Manlove's room. When he +switched on the light, the boyish features again compelled his gaze. +Manlove had told him of the dream of "Gray Towers," of the House of +Lords; and the memory of it, returning through the stupefaction that +still surrounded him, sent a poignant charge into his throat. To have +his dream perish like this! Whatever a man's philosophy of immortality, +death remains a shock. + +He was about to leave the room when his attention was arrested by the +gleam of a bright object in the lifeless hand. He was forced to pry open +the fingers. The gleaming thing proved to be a piece of reddish stone. +Coral. It was oval-shaped and some six inches in circumference. An +intricate design was overlaid in silver upon the smooth salmon-hued +surface--a human figure. The oval was edged with silver, and at the top +was a tiny clasp. The clasp was broken. He studied the silver design. It +was evidently some sort of deity, but different from any he had ever +seen--an ugly little god with three eyes. + +What was it? he wondered--part of a necklace, an ornament? The broken +clasp testified that it had been wrenched from its fastening. Perhaps in +a struggle--_the_ struggle.... + +Temporarily dismissing it from his thoughts, he left it lying upon the +table and went to the telephone. + + +4 + +Meanwhile, at the dak bungalow, which looks out upon the main street of +Sahib's Gaya, the _khansammah_, a ghostly figure in his white garments, +sat on the covered portico and watched a gharry approach in a whirl of +dust. + +The carriage was jerked to a halt at the compound, and from its dim +interior appeared a form. + +It was the strange Memsahib, the _khansammah_ observed to himself. + +Strange, indeed, he reflected; Memsahibs rarely wore veils, and those +they affected were gossamer, cobweb-like affairs that hid not a feature. +But this Memsahib wore an almost opaque veil, a veil which she lifted +only to eat and when in her room. She had a beautiful face, and well +that she covered it from befouling eyes. For the _khansammah_ was a +Mohammedan. + +She was very generous, this Memsahib, oh, very generous, indeed! True, +she asked many questions--about Major Trent Sahib and his friend, the +other Dakktar Sahib--but she paid for the information. She had been at +the dak bungalow only since morning, and he hoped she would remain +longer. Business was none too good. + +Thus ran his thoughts as the woman alighted from the gharry and crossed +the compound. + +When she reached the steps he rose and rendered a salaam. As usual, her +veil was lowered. He sensed a repressed excitement in the manner that +her white hand closed upon the post of the veranda; a bracelet shone +softly on her arm. + +"_Khansammah_," she began, in a low, vibrant voice that made him think +of the golden tongue of a certain singing-nautch he had once heard, +"When does the next train leave for Mughal Sarai? Do you know?" + +"Hah, Memsahib!"--with regret. "Must you leave? Has not my +hospitalit_ee_ been all the Memsahib could--" + +"Of course," she broke in, impatiently. "But the train?" + +"At midnight, Memsahib. But it is unlike_lee_ the Memsahib can get +accommodations, for there is ver_ee_ much travel at this time of the +year--oh, ver_ee_ much!" + +"At midnight," she repeated, as though she had heard only that. + +Then she entered--and the _khansammah_ thought he saw her pause, falter, +as with a sudden stroke of weakness. + + +5 + +And again meanwhile-- + +The moon paled, sank. Its senescent glamour lingered upon the towering +plinth and fluted pillars of the temple of the Sacred Bo-tree, seven +miles south of Gaya-town. A warm wind fretted the tapering leaves of the +holy tree; the sunken courtyard was a cistern of gloom where tiny yellow +lights swam like foam-flecks on a dark sea. These flecks of light, +forming a semi-circle about the Sacred Bo-tree, were many little +butter-lamps. Their glow revealed a man seated on the Diamond Throne +(just as Gaudama sat on the same spot in a buried century and +contemplated his Dewa Laka); revealed his yellow features, his tonsured +skull and magenta robes; revealed the stone image of Buddha that looked +down from the shrine with an expression of serene omniscience; revealed +the row of crimson-togaed monks that knelt within the semi-circle of +butter-lamps and murmured prayers. + +The man on the Diamond Throne sat motionless. Only his lips moved, and +his eyes. A hint of guile showed in his face. He repeated a _mantra_ +automatically, for his thoughts were elsewhere. + +This was no other than his Holiness the Grand Lama of Tsagan-dhuka, who +had pilgrimaged from his Tibetan abby to the Sacred Bo-tree--the first +journey of the sort to be made by a lama of high rank since the visit of +that venerable pontiff, the Tashi Lama.... Behold him, then, in the +magenta robes of his office, squatting upon the Diamond Throne, reciting +a Buddhist prayer. + +The patter of bare feet on stone caused him to shift his gaze to the +gloom beyond the courtyard. His black eyes squinted, and he traced the +outline of a palanquin. The primitive conveyance came to a halt. A +figure in loose robes took shape between the parted curtains; the light +of the butter-lamps fell upon a man in scarlet, a man who descended into +the sunken courtyard and approached the Diamond Throne. No mere priest, +this newcomer, for he wore a mitre-shaped hat; a very obese, very +pompous personage as he waddled up to his Holiness of Tsagan-dhuka. + +The crimson cardinal spoke; and had anyone who understood Tibetan been +standing close by, he would have heard: + +"His Excellency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo has arrived." + +The Grand Lama ceased his _mantra_. + +"Tell him I shall be with him when I have finished my reflections." + +The cardinal bowed and took his leave. The curtains of the palanquin +blotted out his corpulent person. Again the patter of naked feet sounded +above the surreptitious whispering of the Bo-tree. + +A cryptic smile slid across the Grand Lama's eyes; the lids dropped to +hide it. He resumed the prayer. + +"_Om mani Padme hum...._" + +Thus he sat--just as Gaudama sat on the same spot in a buried century. +However, the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was not contemplating his Dewa Laka. + +Above him the plinth of the temple strove skyward, secure in the +knowledge of the riddle of Life and Death. + + +6 + +A half hour after Trent took the receiver from the telephone, Colonel +Urqhart and Merriton, Head of the Police, rattled into his compound in a +dog-cart. Accompanying them were several officers to whom Trent spoke by +name. + +"... And you found him in the ruined temple!" exclaimed the colonel, in +the living-room, when the customary formalities had been observed. "Good +God, major, what a pity! The poor, poor boy! His father and I were +friends, y' know." + +"I'm positive Chatterjee did it," declared Trent. "You see...." And he +told of the encounter on the road and the subsequent events. + +"What were you saying, major?" asked the Head of the Police, coming out +of the bedroom just as he finished. "But first--what's this?" + +He held out the oval of silver-overlaid coral, and Trent explained how +he had found it. + +"Some sort of native charm, I dare say," observed Merriton. "Tell me +about this Chatterjee." + +When Trent had retold his story, the Head of the Police enquired: + +"Where's the telephone? Ah! I see it!" + + * * * * * + +It was nearly midnight when Colonel Urqhart and Merriton prepared to +leave. + +"Major," said Trent's commanding officer, "you'd better get some sleep. +Eckard and Gerrish will remain to--" + +"Sleep?" echoed Trent. + +"You'll need it if you're going in the morning--and you _are_ going? +Orders, y' know. There's nothing you can do here. I'll personally attend +to everything." + +"Of course I'll go." This from Trent as he passed his hand wearily over +his forehead. "However, I shall sit up to-night. Eckard and Gerrish can +remain--but I'd rather be alone." + +The colonel cast a glance toward Manlove's room. + +"Poor chap!" he sighed. He extended his hand. "Well, good luck, major. I +probably won't see you again before you leave." + +They shook hands, and the colonel and Merriton departed. Not until the +sounds of the dog-cart had dwindled did Trent discover that the Head of +Police had left the piece of coral on the table. His first impulse was +to call after him, but he decided to give it to him later, and dropped +it into his pocket. + +Through the seemingly endless night Trent kept vigil beside the +curtained bed where Manlove lay. He sat huddled in a chair, his face +expressionless; frequently he rose to pace the floor; on several +occasions one of the men in the next room heard him murmuring to +himself. Shortly after midnight (about the time the veiled Memsahib's +train roared out of Gaya toward Mughal Sarai) it began to rain. That was +the prelude to a storm that crashed and tore in a fury about the +bungalow. In the dead silence following, when the damp heat shut in and +stars sparkled in the rain-swept sky, jackals chattered mournfully in +the jungle. + +The last stars passed and the earth awoke in a bath of gold. Ganeesh, +with a frightened, awed expression, crept in hesitatingly with tea, and +behind him came one of the officers. + +"I'll have to get ready to leave now, Eckard," Trent said laconically to +the officer, when he had gulped down the hot liquid. + +Twenty minutes later, washed and shaved, he came out of his bedroom and +found Colonel Urqhart waiting for him. + +"Just came by to tell you Merriton hasn't found Chatterjee yet," +announced the colonel. "Cleared out, it seems. But they'll get him." + +"Uncommonly nice of you, Colonel," returned Trent. His face was drawn, +his eyes veined with red, and a pallor underlay his tanned skin. + +The colonel waved his hand toward the door. "My cart's outside. I'll +drive you to the station. 'Bout time, isn't it?" + +Trent nodded. He strode to the door of Manlove's room and halted on the +threshold, looking with dry eyes into the hushed apartment. A +diamond-winged dragonfly lay dreaming on the window-sill ... the white +face shone through the mosquito-curtain.... Thus Trent stood for a +moment, then he turned and joined the colonel. + +He talked very little during the ride to the station, and Colonel +Urqhart did not press conversation. In the midst of chattering native +passengers and a few whites, with an engine puffing heat into the +already suffocating air, he parted with the colonel,--a handshake and a +few perfunctory words--and settled down in his carriage. + +Not until the train jerked out of the station did the strain snap. He +relaxed wearily upon the leather-lined seat, a steady hammer of pain at +the back of his neck. He felt suddenly alone, intensely alone--a +sensation that carried him back to his boyhood, to a night when he awoke +in a strange, black-dark room. He shuddered involuntarily. His eyelids +burned. Sleep--sleep. The engine seemed to purr that one word, and the +swaying and rocking of the carriage lulled him into drowsiness. + +He fell asleep, suddenly, with a picture of the hushed room--the +diamond-winged dragonfly--painted upon his vision. + + +7 + +Trent was brought out of slumber by the sound of his name. He opened his +eyes and perceived that the train was at a standstill. Heat pressed +close about him, stifling him. Thrusting his head out of the window, he +read the name of the station. He was but a short distance from Gaya. A +telegraph messenger was walking along the platform shrilling: + +"Major-rr Tr-rent Sahib!" + +Trent called him, and as the train pulled out he tore open the envelope. + +"Chatterjee found in river this morning," the message ran. "Stabbed. Let +you hear particulars at Benares. Urqhart." + +For some time after Trent read it he stared out of the carriage-window. +Chatterjee--stabbed. He let the words filter and re-filter through his +brain, let them settle and sink in. They gave a new significance to the +encounter with the native on the previous night. Chatterjee--stabbed. +Murdered? Or had he taken his own life--in remorse? But the river.... +No. Murdered. That word stood out like wet type. Chatterjee--stabbed. +Why? Obvious enough. The native's look of fright explained that. Perhaps +he knew who slew Manlove. Chatterjee, whose lips were sealed. Blind +alley. He faced a wall behind which was hidden the identity of Manlove's +slayer. Manlove, who, to his knowledge, hadn't an enemy-- + +He stiffened at a sudden recollection; brought his fist down upon his +thigh. Idiot! Colossal idiot! Why had not this occurred to him before? +It was fantastic, yet.... + +He procured from his pocket a pencil and an envelope, and scribbled on +the back of the latter--scribbled a description of the woman he had met +on the Meera road; of the cobra-bracelet, of the encounter and his +suspicions. This he would send to Colonel Urqhart at the next station. + +When he had finished, he read it, struck out a few words; folded the +envelope; returned it to his pocket, and settled back in the seat to +reflect upon the tragic immutability of circumstance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +HOUSE OF THE SWAYING COBRA + + +Trent, rested only by short naps on the way, stepped from the railway +carriage in the Cantonment Station, in Benares, and, after a ride past +dusty red brick barracks, reached the hotel--a series of small houses, +with one main building. To his disappointment he found no message from +Colonel Urqhart. Nor was Euan Kerth there. Mr. Kerth had arrived, he was +told, but was not in at present. Trent left word to be notified directly +Kerth returned, and went to his room, in one of the out-buildings. + +Several hours later, refreshed by a sleep, washed and shaved, he seated +himself on the portico to wait for Euan Kerth. On one end, peddlers were +besieging a group of tourists; on the other, a girl with bronze-colored +hair sat reading, a native in a flowered chintz coat drowsing at her +feet. There was something slumberous and torpid in the scene. India, +like the world, relapsed into a lethargy after the tumult of war. + +When he slipped his hand into his tunic pocket for his cheroots, he +found, instead of smokes, a hard, cold object. Withdrawing it, he +recognized, not without some surprise, the oval of coral he had found in +Manlove's hand. He remembered that Merriton had left it on the table in +his bungalow, and he had put it in his pocket with the intention of +returning it to the Head of Police before leaving Gaya. He would have to +send it back, now that a new complication had arisen--namely, the death +of Chatterjee; it might prove a valuable clue. + +He studied it. Time had mellowed the design and smoothed the once-sharp +edges of the silver that rimmed the oval. Coral, he knew, was rarely +used for purposes of ornamentation in India. Too, the three-eyed deity, +a hideous figure, puzzled him, though he was by no means unversed in the +symbolism of the many religions of the land. Coral and silver. The +combination haunted him, was linked with an illusive fragment in his +memory. It came to him suddenly. Tibet. Coral and silver from Tibet. +While he was stationed at Darjeeling he frequently saw men from Phari +and Gyangste with coral and silver ornaments. + +He continued to stare at the oval. The ugly face of the three-eyed +little god seemed to mock him; challenged him to fathom the power that +impelled these waves of mystery that lapped up and touched him, and +receded with their secrets. It brought a vision, too, of the hushed room +at Gaya. + +That was a hurt which only the ointment of time could heal. The tissues +of human relationship mend slowly. His friendship for Manlove had taken +seed deeply, in a measure unconsciously, nurtured by months of intimate +companionship; and now his sensitive nature tingled and throbbed at the +violence with which it had been wrenched from its roots. + +With the murder looming in his thoughts, his mission shrank. Adventure! +Fabulous isles!... Queer how last night's stars lose their fever and +passion when they become a memory. But perhaps the work would distract +him. At least it was different, and in his present mental condition the +very thought of medicines and human ills was intolerable. + +Shadows lengthened between the buildings; the peddlers and tourists +disappeared; the bronze-haired girl had closed her book and lay back in +the chair, staring into space. Upon her he unconsciously focussed his +attention, and as he contemplated her, impersonally and as he would an +inanimate object, she shifted her eyes to him, stared coolly, turned +away, rose and entered her room. + +And Trent forgot her. + +A few minutes later, as he was at the point of making another inquiry +about Euan Kerth, he saw a man leave the central building and move +toward the portico where he sat--a man who approached and spoke his +name. + +"Major Trent?" + +They shook hands. Kerth was an immaculately dressed fellow, with smooth, +olive-tinted features. A rather Mephistophelian face. A small black +mustache, carefully waxed, helped the suggestion. His hair was +shiny-black, as were his eyes, and his dark complexion was only +emphasized by white twills and a white felt hat. His fingers were long +and slim, almost too well-shaped to be masculine. Something very fine +and sleek, Gallic rather than Anglo-Saxon--that was Euan Kerth. + +"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologized in a +too-long-in-the-tropics drawl. "I've been with the Commissioner. You +arrived this afternoon?" + +Trent nodded. He saw behind the assumed languorous air a keen, searching +glance; Kerth was measuring him as he was measuring Kerth. He came to +the tentative decision that he wasn't quite sure he liked him. + +"Sit down, won't you?"--perfunctorily. + +Kerth dropped with lazy grace into a chair and sat with his legs +sprawled wide apart. He proffered some of the blackest cheroots Trent +had ever seen. + +"My Tamils," he explained, with an indolent smile. When the smokes were +lighted, he asked: "Just how much do you know of this little party we're +about to start, major?" + +"As little as possible, I think." + +Kerth puffed on his cheroot. "Ever heard of this woman who styles +herself the Swaying Cobra?" + +"Never." + +"Neither have I." A pause. "Of course you've heard of Chavigny?" + +Trent's answer was a smile. + +"We almost got him the other day, in Delhi. We traced him to a native +serai--Queen's Serai; but he eluded us. Left only a few blood-stains on +the floor of his room. Blood-stains sometimes tell a lot, but they +didn't in this instance. But Chavigny's bottled up in Delhi. Yet"--Kerth +smiled--"yet I wouldn't be at all surprised if he pulled the wool over +the Department's eyes. Of course you think he's involved in this +affair?" + +Trent's eyes followed the spiral of smoke from his cheroot. + +"He might be," was the slow reply, "and, again, he might not. What does +Sir Francis think?" + +A wry smile. "He rarely confides in the Department. At any rate, I don't +fancy we'll encounter this Chavigny. You know he's been running at large +under the name of Leroux--Gilbert Leroux. Remember that; might be useful +some time. If you want my opinion--But I'm sure you don't. Now, as for +this Swaying Cobra--" + +But he was interrupted as a porter appeared and salaamed. + +"Major Trent Sahib?" he enquired. + +Trent nodded and received an envelope with his name written upon it. + +"Pardon me"--this to Kerth as he tore off the end. + +The missive was written in English, in feminine handwriting, and carried +a faint, illusive odor--that of sandalwood. + + GREETINGS! + + I, the Swaying Cobra, welcome you to the Sacred City and beg + the honor of a visit from you to-night. If you will be at the + shop of Abdul Kerim, in the Sadar Bazaar, at eight-thirty + o'clock, my trusted servant, Chandra Lal, will meet you and + conduct you to my humble dwelling. + + Your faithful servant, + + THE SWAYING COBRA + +When he had read it, he handed it to Kerth, who let his eyes run down +the page and smiled. + +"Suppose we move to the dining-hall?" the latter suggested. "I'll finish +what I have to say there." + +Trent assented, and they rose and left the veranda. + +As the purple-tongued shadows lapped them up, the last of the row of +doors opened, and the girl with the bronze hair came out and moved after +them toward the dining-hall. + + +2 + +"In other words," said Kerth, as a soft-shod "boy" arrayed the meal +before them, "you are to deliver yourself blindfolded into the hands of +this Swaying Cobra, and if she says go to the moon, then, according to +the Old Man, you're to go there, without questioning." + +Trent listened, apparently abstractedly, for he was studying the +amazingly clear profile of the girl at the next table. Punkahs, worked +by electricity, disturbed straying tendrils of reddish-gold hair. + +"The woman mystifies me as much as the affair itself," Kerth went on. +"Who is she? It's evident the Old Man trusts her--to a degree. From her +name, 'Swaying Cobra,' I'd judge she's a nautch, yet, on the other hand, +I'm inclined to think she's above that. Fact is, the Old Man was too +infernally secretive about her; seemed afraid he'd tell me something. +However, he isn't absolutely sure of her. If he was, I wouldn't be +here." + +A tourist, was Trent's conclusion. (For he was still studying the girl.) +She choked over the greasy, peppery curry concoction. A moment later her +soft voice floated to him as she spoke to her "boy." + +"Confound him! Is he listening to me?" Kerth wondered. Then aloud, "My +part is this: I'm to rig myself up as a native--a Rajput--and accompany +you as your servant. My name will be Rawul Din." + +Trent's eyes turned sharply from the girl to Kerth. He noticed, +incidentally, that the latter's hair would need no lamp-black to make it +like a native's. + +"Suppose she objects?" + +Kerth smiled--an expression that was almost sinister because of his +dark, satanic features. + +"That's the point: she _must not_ object!" After a pause he resumed: +"The Old Man wanted that firmly impressed. In some way or other she must +be forced to agree to that condition. You're the diplomat of this +expedition; that means it's up to you. So said the Old Man. I'm to be +the connecting link between you and the Department." + +"Is that keeping faith with her?" + +"According to the letter of the contract, yes; morally, no. As I +understand it, she demanded your word of honor you wouldn't +'communicate' any information. Therefore, you must not; what I don't +hear and learn for myself is the Department's loss. Neat way of beating +the devil around the bush, isn't it?" + +It was not visible upon Trent's face whether or not he agreed with +Kerth. However, his next question hinted negatively. + +"If she discovers you're not Rawul Din, the Rajput, what then?" + +Kerth shrugged. "_Adrushtam!_" he said, which means, "It is Fate!" Then +he lighted a cheroot and leaned upon his elbows, a queer smile lurking +in the corners of his mouth. "It means this, major," he continued. "If +she's loyal, as the Old Man believes, she will either be very angry and +throw over the whole business, or overlook it and simply demand that +espionage be discontinued. But"--his face, veiled by smoke, looked more +satanic than ever--"if she isn't loyal, then--well, we'll both +probably...." He finished with a lift of his eyebrows. + +Trent watched the bronze-haired girl as she left the dining-hall--as did +others, for she was a type to draw eyes. + +"To-night's the test," Kerth observed aloud. "If you succeed in forcing +your point, good. Otherwise, I return to Delhi." He looked at his watch. +"It's close to seven now, and my metamorphosis will require some time. +Shall we adjourn?" + +They did. + + +3 + +Before Trent left his room he placed the oval of coral in his handbag; +then he went out on the portico to smoke and watch the stars gather +about the cleaving silhouette of a church steeple across from the hotel +grounds. + +At one end of the veranda two shadowy forms were conversing; a woman's +voice drifted to him, a soft voice that slurred and caressed the words +it spoke. It was vaguely familiar, and in a detached manner he +identified it with the girl of the dining-hall. + +The phosphorescent hands of his wrist-watch crept to five minutes to +eight before Euan Kerth put in his appearance. A heavy footstep +announced a turbaned man. He halted in the light cast from a window; +executed a salaam. He wore white breeches, an alpaca coat and a white +shawl. A huge turban shadowed a brown face and a carefully waxed +mustache. Had it not been for that and the slim hands, Trent would not +have recognized him. + +"_Salaam, Huzoor!_" was his greeting. "Is the _Huzoor_ ready?"--this in +the manner of a native trying to affect an Oxford accent. + +Trent nodded and rose, and Kerth fell in behind. + +"There's no need to take a gharry," said Kerth. "The Sadar Bazaar isn't +far." + +Their walk led them past the dusty red brick barracks that Trent had +seen that afternoon, and within a short while they reached the Sadar +Bazaar, where, after many inquiries, they were directed to the shop of +Abdul Kerim--a dingy little hole in a narrow lane. A native was lounging +in the doorway, but at their approach he straightened up and salaamed. + +"Major Trent Sahib?" he queried respectfully, with a grin that displayed +betel-stained teeth. "I am Chandra Lal." Then he looked inquisitively at +Kerth. "Who is this, Sahib?" + +"My servant." + +Chandra Lal shook his head. "I was instructed to bring only Major Trent +Sahib." + +"But it is my wish that my bearer accompany me." + +The native shifted uncomfortably. "The sahib's wish is law; yet if I do +other than I have been bidden I will be a disobedient servant." Another +glimpse of scarlet teeth; a rather nervous smile. "So what shall I do, +Sahib?" + +"My man shall go--_maloom hai_!"--sternly. "I will be responsible to +your mistress." + +Chandra Lal saluted. "_Achcha_, Sahib! I have a carriage in the street!" + +At the mouth of the lane a landau was waiting, and when Trent and Kerth +were seated on cushioned springs, Chandra Lal flicked his whip. + +Out of the Cantonment they were whirled, and eastward into the old city, +where constricted streets refused passage to any vehicle. They drew up +by an oval-shaped, tree-grown expanse, and the landau was left in charge +of a man who was waiting for that particular purpose. Then began a +journey on foot that was memorable to the two Englishmen because of the +muddle of dim, narrow highways into which it took them. Chandra Lal +leading, they percolated through streets and passages that stank of +every unpleasantness known to Indian cities; mere clefts where the stars +swam at distances immeasurable; stairs, tunneled lanes and alleys, and +amidst ramshackle, tumbled buildings and temples and shrines. + +Trent's sense of direction was completely baffled when they came at +length to a quarter where the houses were more pretentious--a long +street of several-storied dwellings, of projecting eaves, of white walls +and of latticed windows that hinted at the lurking mystery of zenana and +harem. + +Into one of these houses the native guided them, up a short flight of +stairs and into a dark room. The air was fresh and cool, fanned by +invisible punkahs. A snap brought on electric lights, and Trent blinked +about him; blinked and suppressed a smile, for he realized the entrance +into the room while it was yet unlighted was done for purely dramatic +effect. + +His eyes, roving around the chamber, missed not a detail; a chamber +wholly amazing and incredible to the Westerner, who rarely, if ever, +sees into the houses of the wealthy, high caste Hindus. Trent, however, +(to whom India was an open book, as much as it ever will be to any white +man) was only mildly surprised. The chandeliers were crystal, tinted +amber by the yellow lights. Brassware and gold brocade (the latter hung +to hide all doors except the one by which they had entered) introduced +an effect of rich browns and richer golds; and a spire of incense +uncoiled from a brazen bowl to be dispelled by punkahs and leave the +heavy fragrance of musk swimming in the air. + +"My mistress will join you presently," announced Chandra Lal. "Be +seated, Sahib, and you will be served with refreshments!" + +Trent flung himself upon a divan pushed against the wall; silken +cushions yielded to his weight and clung to him caressingly. Kerth +dropped cross-legged at his feet. + +Before Chandra Lal made his exit he drew the gold-hued draperies +opposite where Trent reclined, drew bamboo blinds and disclosed a white +arch that framed a portion of a garden. Stone steps sank into a +courtyard where rustling shrubs wove shadows about a fountain; falling +water played flute-notes on a tiled basin; stars scraped a white wall. + +"She's no novice, this cobra," thought Trent. "Wonder if she's anything +like her lair?" + +"... wine," thought Kerth. "And we must drink it ... unless--yes, guile +for guile." + +Suddenly, from behind gold curtains, came the faint whispering of music. +Trent smothered an insurgent desire to laugh. Incongruity, the essence +of India! The music was made by a gramophone! Presently he recognized +the tune--Tschaikowsky's "Serenade Melancholique"! + +He glanced furtively at Kerth. The latter's face was expressionless, his +slim hands toying with the tassel of a cushion. Trent sensed in his +attitude the same wild desire to laugh that possessed him. + +"Steady!" he mentally encouraged himself, fixing his gaze upon a piece +of brassware close by--a _lota_ overlaid with copper and chased with +mythological figures. "Hmm.... Half as old as India, I'll wager," ran +his musings. "Siva--who the deuce is the other chap?" + +Gold brocades parted and a turbaned servant glided out silently with a +tray, which he placed on a pearl-inlaid table. Claret-hued wine glowed +in twin beaten-brass goblets, rich as melted rubies. One he passed to +Trent, the other to Kerth. Then he made a soundless departure. + +Inwardly, Trent smiled. And drained his goblet. The gramophone ceased; +only the music of the fountain stole to him, with a breath of fragrant +shrubs that made the incense seem sensuous and heavy. + +Again the brass _lota_ claimed his gaze; held it until he heard a sigh +from Kerth and looked down to see the latter's eyelids droop, to see his +eyes close and his chin sink into his white shawl. + +"Damn!" he swore, almost inaudibly, and his hand sprang to Kerth's +shoulder and gripped it none too gently. "Rawul Din!" + +As he pronounced the name, Kerth fell against the cushions of the divan, +drugged in sleep. Some one laughed--a laugh that rippled low in the +throat. Trent did not look toward the sound immediately, although that +was his first impulse. He let his eyes turn naturally and rest, at first +incredulously, upon the woman who had entered and who stood regarding +him with a mocking smile. The blood flooded his temples; after a second +it receded, leaving him cold, numb, with a tingling sense of unreality. +He did not rise; merely stared; and presently forced a smile. + +"Sarojini Nanjee," he said, trying to put down the emotions that +declared insurrection against his will. And he repeated, "Sarojini +Nanjee, the Swaying Cobra?" He smiled. "I confess, I never once +suspected." + +Outlined against the gold draperies she stood, dressed as nautches +dress, only with more richness and without the customary head-scarf. Her +garments were full and as shimmery as cobwebs in the sun, and confined +at the waist with a goldcloth girdle that matched the tint of her +marvelously smooth skin. Her eyes burned under heavy lids, burned and +mocked him; and by their feverish brightness he understood that this +meeting wrought in her an excitement equal to his, although she was +prepared for it. + +"I did not intend that you should suspect," she told him as she moved to +the divan where he reclined. "I knew you would not come if you did." + +Not until then did he rise. He smiled, and the smile lingered as she +bent over Kerth and drew back the lids from his eyes. + +"Why did you disobey me by bringing this man?" she demanded, and, +assured that Kerth was drugged, dropped gracefully upon the cushions. + +"Why did you drug him?" he countered. + +The blood still throbbed at his temples. The irony of it, that they +should meet again! And on this mission! She was as beautiful as ever. +But the lure of her eyes--eyes as purple as moist violets--of her smooth +golden skin and lithe body, no longer affected him. All that was in the +sepulcher of the past. A memory that was like the taste of stale wine +upon the tongue. + +"I put a sleeping powder in his wine because what I am going to say is +for only _your_ ears," she replied. + +"And you're called the Swaying Cobra," he mused, more to himself than to +the woman, "or did another write that note?" + +"I am the Swaying Cobra." A pause. She studied him from under +half-lowered lids. "I dance for those I love. I have only venom for +those I hate." + +The Swaying Cobra! He almost laughed. That was a good symptom, that he +could be amused. A pretty viper! Resolving to let her open the subject +of his visit, he allowed his eyes to wander about the room. + +"Here I cease trying to be an Englishwoman," she said, perceiving his +inquisitive look. He did not fail to register the ring of bitterness +beneath that assertion. "In Jehelumpore and in Delhi it is different, +but here--here I am a Rajputni." Another pause. She laughed, and it was +not without a sting. "I know what you are thinking: that you will refuse +to work with me because--because of a foolish Anglo-Saxon +sentimentalism!" + +She waited for him to respond; he did not. + +"But why not forget that we ever knew each other--and did we ever really +know each other? Why not regard this as an impersonal affair? +Individuals do not count where an empire is concerned." + +Trent smiled discreetly and held his tongue. + +"I bear you no rancor," she went on. "On the contrary, I recognize and +respect the qualities that prompted me to select you for this +mission--imagination, wits, honor! Yes, for these things I chose +you--forgetting that when we last saw each other it was not under the +most pleasant circumstances. What is dead is dead." + +She fell silent, and he spoke for the first time. + +"You've anticipated," he said. "I was sent here to work with you and I +intend to. I've already forgot that we ever met before to-night. What is +dead is dead." + +The woman smiled--but had she known what was in his mind at that moment +she might not have been so pleased. However, she did not. And she lay +back among the brocaded cushions, quite at ease, her hands clasped +behind her head, chin tilted, eyes looking upon him as a cat's eyes look +upon the mouse it is about to play with. + +All of which did not pass unobserved by Trent, who pictured, instead of +a woman lying upon the gold silks with her head lifted, a lithe, +beautiful cobra with its black hood raised above the cushions; pictured +her thus, and returned her gaze with frankness and a smile that disarmed +her. + +She clapped her hands and a servant brought wine. "Were you well +informed as to the terms of the agreement?" she questioned, handing him +a cup of claret-hued liquor. + +"I believe so." + +"That when you leave this house you are no longer Major Arnold Trent, +but another--a well of secrets from which no man can draw, and as mute +as the Buddha at Sarnath?" + +He demonstrated that he could do so by remaining silent. She resumed: + +"And you will do as I direct?" + +"To a reasonable extent," he modified. + +"To a reasonable extent," she repeated, and nodded. "And if you do not +understand a thing, you will trust to my judgment that it is better you +do not understand it." + +"Then I'm to deliver myself blindfolded?" he put in, remembering Kerth's +words of the early evening and glancing involuntarily toward the drugged +figure. + +"You will be told all that it is consistent to tell." She took a sip of +wine and surveyed him. "What is your first question?" + +He thrust back the query that came to his tongue and reverted to his +conservative tactics. He sat as mute and expressionless as the Buddha at +Sarnath. When a moment had passed, she announced: + +"You would like to know how I know what I know about the jewels; is it +not so?" + +"I would like to know _what_ you know first," he corrected. + +She laughed--that laugh that rippled low in her throat. + +"What I know is locked away safely until the time is ripe to bring it +forth. Meanwhile, I will say this much: the jewels have not left India." + +"Then they _will_?" + +He flashed out the question with the air of a fencer thrusting at a weak +point in his opponent's guard. But foil met foil. She replied: + +"Did I say so, O wise one? Again your thoughts are as clear as a crystal +pool. You say to yourself, 'Such a hoard of jewels cannot be smuggled +out of India; she is trying to confuse me.' But nay! The gods of India +are many and I swear by all of them that every gem that was stolen, down +to the last pearl, can be spirited out of India at any moment it is so +desired--and under the very eyes, nay, the protection, of your Secret +Service!" + +If this statement surprised him, his face did not betray it; he +disconcerted her by looking interestedly at the brass _lota_. His +indifference drew fire. + +"I said it could be done!" she declared. "Whether it will be is for you +to learn. Oh, you do not deceive me! I know you are consumed with +curiosity, under that shell of yours! Your Raj, well fed and growing fat +with wisdom, thinks it has a clue. Chavigny! The Raj thinks Chavigny is +involved!" + +She leaned closer; peered intently into his eyes. The illusive fragrance +of sandalwood from her hair was not calculated to make him feel any more +at ease. But he did not stir nor wink an eyelid under the close +scrutiny. + +"Chavigny!" she mocked. "Chavigny, the famous thief! Chavigny, whom some +silly Secret Service man tracked to Indore--and lost! Chavigny, driven +into hiding in Delhi! Pah! Let the Raj search for Chavigny, let it turn +Delhi inside out--while we look on and laugh! You--you have imagination! +I can guess what is in your mind, for I, too, have imagination! You have +pictured a gigantic criminal organization--a gem syndicate, let us +say--a flock of jewel vultures who have swooped down and plucked clean +the bones of the empire! And perhaps you even think Chavigny the leader, +yes?" + +She smiled, quite pleased with herself. Then once more she leaned close +to him. + +"What would you think if I told you there is such a band--an order, we +will call it--of jewel vultures who have flown away with riches worth a +dozen rajah's ransoms? What would you think? Only"--she paused +dramatically--"we will omit Chavigny, for if there be such an order he +is not its head nor in it!" + +He drew out his smokes; passed them to her. She refused, and he lighted +a cigarette and flicked the match through the archway. Then he +suggested: + +"Aren't all cards to go on the table?" + +She smiled wisely. "No, I can play them more effectively one by one," +was her retort. + +His brain was working swiftly yet carefully. When he had selected his +words he uttered them. + +"Presuming there is such an order, as you call it, we'll go further and +say that you, by some unguessable means, have become a member; and are +working with them for the Raj." + +She looked her approval. "Presumably"--with a nod. That word was a key +to further knowledge. + +"Then it would seem logical, if I'm to work with you, for me to be +initiated into the mysteries of this order--become a member, in other +words." + +"Go on," she encouraged. + +"So the purpose of this visit, I take it, is for me to learn the 'Open +Sesame' of the order." + +And having said that much, he realized it was sufficient and relapsed +into quiet to let her do the rest of the talking. + +"You have already proved that I chose well," she announced. "But before +I go on you must give me your word of honor that all I have said and +will say, all that occurs until I release you from the promise, will +never be repeated--by word or writing." + +"I give it," he returned quietly. + +She leaned over and deftly drew back the lids from Kerth's eyes; Trent +caught a fleeting glimpse of the whites. + +"To-morrow you leave Benares," she directed, again assured. "You will +take a train in the morning for Bombay and go to an address which I +shall give you; and do as I instruct." Her hand slipped under her waist +and brought out a long blank envelope. "In this envelope are your +instructions. I must have your promise not to read them until you are on +the train to Bombay; then destroy them immediately." + +He inclined his head and placed the envelope in his pocket. + +"You said that when I leave this house I am no longer Major Trent," he +reminded. + +"You are Robert Tavernake, a jeweller, from London. All that is +contained in the instructions." + +"Including the name of the order?"--his curiosity escaping him. + +For answer she clapped her hands and curtains parted to admit a servant +with a black lacquer tray. From the tray she lifted a small box; opened +it as the servant padded out. + +"This is the symbol of the order"--removing a string of beads. + +Had Trent felt any hesitancy about plunging into this blind mission it +would have vanished at sight of the beads--reddish coral beads, with an +oval-shaped pendant overlaid with the silver image of a three-eyed god! +The only emotion he displayed was to moisten his lips; but it required +all the force he could marshal to check the questions that flooded to +his tongue, to mask his surprise and reach with a steady hand for the +beads. Despite his control, it seemed for a moment that he would betray +his nervousness. + +"... the Order of the Falcon," he heard her say. "See--" She inserted +her fingernail under the silver band that finished the coral; the +pendant opened, like a locket. The interior was silver and a name was +engraved upon the back--"Robert Tavernake." + +She snapped the oval shut and he took the beads; twisted them carelessly +around his fingers, until the deep reddish coral seemed like huge drops +of blood welling from his hand. As he caught the significance of the +illusion, he looked up quickly and spoke. + +"Am I to carry these?" + +She nodded. + +His thoughts swung back to the oval that lay in his handbag at the +hotel. + +"Is it customary to have the name engraved--like this?"--with a gesture. + +After the words left his mouth he realized he had made an indiscreet +move. She looked at him suspiciously, then answered: + +"Customary, yes--among those who possess such beads." + +He did not fail to grasp the insinuation that her speech bore. He +glanced down at the beads in his hand, casually enough; toyed with them; +slipped them into his pocket. His heart had not resumed its normal beat, +but the tension had eased. He fastened his eyes upon the relaxed figure +of Kerth and-- + +"It will be permissible, I presume," he began, as though the sight of +the turbaned head suggested the question, "to take my bearer along?" + +Did a smile flicker across her eyes, he wondered, or was it only his +fancy? The answer came decisively. + +"It is scarcely practicable." + +"Why?"--a shade too artlessly. + +"Servants have eyes to see and ears to hear." + +Something in her tone caused him to wonder if she had penetrated under +Kerth's masquerade. All the while he was subconsciously thinking of the +mate to the oval in his pocket. + +"What harm in taking him to Bombay?" he pursued, conscious that he was +losing ground. + +Again he could have taken oath that he saw the shadow of a smile in her +eyes. + +"To Bombay?" she repeated thoughtfully. "No"--slowly--"no, I see no +objection. I concede that." But he did not like the manner in which she +said it. + +"Conditionally, however," she added. "He must leave to-night. When he +reaches Bombay let him reserve a room for you at the Taj Mahal--and +wait." + +Trent was discreet enough to accept her terms without question. His eyes +returned to Kerth. He saw him stir slightly, heard a sigh leave his +lips. The woman, too, saw and heard. + +"He is awakening," she observed. "I shall summon Chandra Lal to guide +you back to your hotel." + +Again she clapped her hands; again the servant appeared. She spoke to +him swiftly, not in English nor Hindustani, but in a tongue Trent did +not understand, and the man vanished with a salaam. + +Sarojini rose; Trent, too, got up. + +"_Salaam, Burra Dakktar_," she said, lapsing into Hindustani and +bringing the visit to an end. "I, the Swaying Cobra--who dance for those +I love, but have only venom for those I hate--bid thee farewell until +the gods bring us together again. And may that be soon!" + +She smiled and contemplated him, once more as a cat contemplating prey; +smiled with eyes that spoke mockery as she suffered him to salute her +fingers; and the last picture he had of her was as she crossed the +golden room and parted the golden curtains, vanishing like a cobra into +its lair. + +He turned then to Kerth and shook him. The latter was slow to awaken. +Lids lifted to reveal rheumy eyes, but as he recognized Trent sleep was +wiped away, like a cobweb. His gaze swept the room; he rose unsteadily. + +"I am ready, Sahib!" announced Chandra Lal, appearing in the doorway. + +Kerth opened his mouth, as if to speak; shut it; shot Trent a cryptic +glance. + +"Come." This from Trent, laconically. + +Thus they left the house of the Swaying Cobra, left it with its vain, +old-world atmosphere and its golden room; re-traversed the labyrinth of +streets; got into the landau; whirled toward the Cantonment. + + +4 + +Not until they reached the hotel, until Chandra Lal flicked his whip and +rolled away into the gloom, did either of the Englishmen speak. + +"So you've known her before!" observed Kerth as they approached Trent's +room. + +Trent said, without surprise: "You heard?" + +"Everything.... I'll drop over and find out about the Bombay trains; +join you in a moment." + +As Kerth moved toward the central building, Trent unlocked the door. +After he switched on the light, his first act was to open his bag and +insert his hand into the pocket where he had left the piece of coral. +His fingers trembled, for he felt that he was questioning for the +identity of Manlove's slayer; trembled--and groped in an empty pocket. + +For several seconds he stood motionless, trying to adjust himself to the +situation. When he came into full sentience, he looked carefully through +the bag. He even searched his pockets. But the oval was not to be +found.... Some one had entered his room; stolen it. The realization +burned like acid into his brain. But if-- + +His mental inquest was cut short as a knock announced Kerth. + +"Message for you," said the latter, extending a telegram. + +Trent hastily tore it open; read: + +"Party fitting description bought ticket for Mughal Sarai last night. +_Khansammah_ at dak bungalow says she asked questions about you and +Manlove. Following up clue. Nothing new. Urqhart." + +A sense of disappointment smote him. First Chatterjee; then the oval; +now this! A series of blind alleys. + +He applied a match to the telegram and watched it burn. + +"Train leaves in an hour and a half," Kerth volunteered, taking a seat +and staring inquisitively at the ashes as they fluttered to the floor. + +"How'd you suspect the wine?" Trent enquired, unbuttoning his tunic. + +"It's my business to suspect. I emptied the cup under the divan and, +afterwards, expected any minute to see it seeping out. As it is, I'm +not sure she didn't smell a mouse. Gad! The way she pulled back my +eyelids!" + +Trent hung his tunic on a chair. "Don't object if I get comfortable, do +you?" he asked. "Rather done up; awake all last night, you know." + +Kerth waved his slim hand. "Go ahead; I'll have to pack up shortly." +Then, as Trent undressed: "This Sarojini, she's a shrewd one, major, and +I don't envy you the task of matching blades with her. However, you +gained a point on her to-night. I was rather surprised that she gave in +so easily; not so sure, either, that there isn't a trick in it." He +laughed easily. "Oh, I'll wager she has a bag of tricks! And do you +think she was telling the truth when she said Chavigny has nothing to do +with this Order of the Falcon?" + +Trent, stripped but for one garment, propped himself against two +pillows, pencil and pad in hand. + +"I'm sure I don't know," he returned, making a notation. "Pardon me for +taking a few notes; 'fraid I'll forget 'em. No, don't go.... About +Chavigny: why should she say he isn't, if he is?" + +"To confuse you." Kerth drew out a silver cigarette case. "Have a smoke? +And what d'you suppose she meant by saying the jewels could be spirited +out of India under the protection of the S. S.?" Kerth searched from +pocket to pocket for a match. "Have you a light, major?" + +Trent's hand moved involuntarily to his side; then he motioned toward +his tunic. + +"In the pocket." + +And he continued to write as Kerth reached into the pocket of his coat. +He read the notes he had made: + + Who the deuce would want the pendant? Answer: if a name is + engraved inside, it would be very valuable to the owner. Yet + the fact that the coral was found in M.'s hand doesn't prove + conclusively that its owner is the murderer. + +He looked up as Kerth extended a lighted match, took it and held it to +his cheroot. + +"Thanks"--briefly. + +"Do you think," interrogated Kerth, "you could find her lair without a +guide?" + +Trent smiled. "Hardly." + +"I'd take oath that her man, Chandra Lal, led us along the same street +twice! Oh, she's a wily one! And the way she had us taken into the room +while it was dark!" + +He puffed on his cheroot and Trent continued to jot down notes. + +"Furthermore," Kerth drawled, "why doesn't she want you to read those +instructions until to-morrow? Some catch in it." + +Conversation languished, and presently Kerth drew out his watch and +observed: "Nearly midnight. I'll have to be moving on." + +He rose and extended his hand. + +"I'll take a room at a native serai in Bombay--for atmosphere--and meet +you at the station. Until then, good luck!" + +In the doorway he paused. He looked particularly satanic at that moment, +and again Trent was not quite sure that he liked him. + +"Bombay, major!" were his parting words. And the door closed behind him. + +Trent stared at the blank panels for a moment; then, while he ran his +fingers through his hair, he glanced over his notes: + + Something queer about this Chavigny. May not belong to Order, + but he's not to be overlooked. Last alias was Gilbert Leroux, + Kerth said. Kerth is a downy bird. Gilbert Leroux. Names mean + nothing. Sarojini took particular pains to empress it upon me + that Chavigny is _non compos mentis_. Therefore, he isn't. He's + something. What? And--Sarojini is a connection of the Nawab of + Jehelumpore--the jewels of the Nawab were among those stolen. + Find out if she was in Jehelumpore at time of theft. + +Then he tore off the slip of paper, crumpled it and held a corner to his +cheroot. When the blaze lapped up to his fingers he let the paper fall +to the floor, then swung his feet over the edge of the bed and reached +for his tunic. From the inside pocket he removed the long envelope +Sarojini Nanjee had given him. It was sealed and its white surface +invited inspection. He made a movement to open it; hesitated. Why not? +As Kerth suggested, there might be a trick--and he knew only too well +that she was not above chicanery. But he did not open it; slipped it +under his pillow. + +A glance at his wrist-watch. He procured his revolver; snapped open the +breech; inspected the cartridges; clicked it shut; placed it beneath the +pillow with the envelope. Then he switched off the light and lay with +his cheroot's end glowing in the darkness. + +The discovery of the symbol of the Order revealed another side to the +mystery surrounding Manlove's death, and during the ride back to the +hotel he had constructed a new theory--a theory that he reviewed now. +The analogy between the Swaying Cobra and the woman of the +cobra-bracelet did not escape him. One suggested the other. Surely it +was plausible to surmise that Sarojini was the veiled woman, although he +was at a loss to find a convincing motive for her presence at Gaya. +However, Colonel Urqhart's telegram stated that the woman had made +inquiries about him--and what other woman was interested? Further proof +was offered by the fact that the mysterious woman left Gaya on the night +of the tragedy for Mughal Sarai, the junction for Benares. Finally, +there was the coral pendant-stone. Sarojini had called it the "symbol" +of the Order; therefore, only a member of that mysterious band was +likely to possess it, and had not she admitted she was a member? And the +pendant-stone was stolen--evidently for the reason that engraved inside +was the name of its owner. Sarojini was in Benares; it was logical to +assume, then, that some one in her employ had entered his room and +removed the condemning evidence. + +But, on the other hand, there were elements to upset this theory. Clues +indicated that Manlove was stabbed at the bungalow and carried to the +temple-ruins. Could a woman do that? Under the stress of circumstances, +yes. But why move the body--unless to hide it? Or had Manlove been +mortally wounded at the house and gone of his own volition to the ruins +before his death? Possible--but he could conjecture no cause for such +action. + +And there was Chatterjee. Since the receipt of the telegram telling of +his death, Trent was of the opinion that the native knew something about +the crime and for that reason was killed. Had Chatterjee gone to the +bungalow that night, grief-crazed and believing Trent responsible for +his child's death, to administer primitive justice? Had he witnessed the +crime and fled? Of course, there was the possibility that Chatterjee's +death might have been a coincidence--the termination of a quarrel +between him and another native. Yet Trent was not inclined to lay great +importance upon this, as he considered, meager explanation and his +thoughts returned to the woman. + +He could fix the guilt upon neither Sarojini Nanjee nor Chatterjee. Of +the two, he least suspected the native. He knew the woman to be +unscrupulous--whether to the point of murder he was uncertain. True, it +may not have been deliberate murder. She might have gone to the bungalow +for (again) a mysterious reason; might have been discovered by +Manlove.... But the glove did not exactly fit. Nor had he any concrete +reason to believe her the woman of the cobra-bracelet--or to believe the +woman of the cobra-bracelet involved. That the latter had worn a heavy +veil, surrounded her, in his eyes, with an aura of mystery. This he +realized, and gave her the benefit of the doubt. + +Nevertheless, the coral pendant linked Sarojini with the crime; +suggested that even though she did not actually commit the deed, she was +undoubtedly implicated. + +All of which did not clear the mystery; instead, bewildered him the more +and kept suspicion, like the needle of a compass, wavering between +Chatterjee, Sarojini Nanjee, the woman of the cobra-bracelet (if she +were not Sarojini) and a person unknown. + +His cheroot had burned low, and he got up and flung it away, and made +sure the door was secure before he returned to the bed; then he relaxed +and lay staring up into the darkness--darkness that was hotter because +of the thick mosquito-curtain--until he fell asleep. + + +5 + +Trent returned to consciousness gradually, as a diver rising from the +bottom of the sea. He was aware of another presence in the room before +he was completely awake, and he strained at the threads of sleep that +still entangled him. + +The first proof of a presence in the hot, dark void that enclosed him +was the sound of repressed breathing. He felt, now at the helm of his +faculties, a movement under his pillow--realized it was a _hand_, a hand +that withdrew stealthily, that belonged to a dark figure crouched +outside the mosquito-curtain. A turban and shoulders were silhouetted +upon the gray rectangle of a window. He sensed eyes upon him, cat-like +eyes that saw despite the darkness. + +With a stealth that proved that the intruder was no novice, but of the +school of thieves that graduate well-nigh perfect adepts in the art of +silent movement, the silhouette receded from the bed. Trent realized +that in all probability his revolver had been placed beyond reach; +attack by surprise was impossible because of the mosquito-curtain. So he +lay there, undecided, scarcely breathing; and, after a moment, he let +his hand slide slowly, cautiously, toward his pillow. + +The silhouette halted; was motionless. + +Trent's hand touched the seam of the pillow and pressed underneath. It +encountered steel. + +The silhouetted turban was moving again--toward the door. + +Trent gripped the revolver. He turned on his side noisily and sighed, as +though in sleep. At the sounds, the dark figure stepped swiftly to one +side of the window, thus vacating the gray rectangle. + +Trent waited no longer. He raised the mosquito-curtain and jumped. And +the thing he apprehended happened. His head and shoulders became +enmeshed in the netting. Cursing his awkwardness, he rent the fabric +with a downward sweep of his hand. As he leaped through the opening, he +saw the door flung wide, saw the man plunge out. + +He pressed the trigger--and it snapped harmlessly. + +"Damn!" he spat out, knowing the weapon had been tampered with. + +Again he pressed the trigger; again that absurd click. + +Meanwhile the door slammed. The crash awakened him to the fact that the +thief was escaping, and he dashed across the room and threw open the +door. As he emerged, a figure disappeared behind the far corner. + +He rushed in pursuit, his bare feet padding upon the stone flags. At the +end of the portico he halted sharply, almost colliding with something in +white--a something that appeared, as if by magic, from behind a suddenly +opened door; that came to a standstill as abruptly as he, and gasped. + +"Oh!" + +Words died in Trent's throat. The girl, whom he recognized as she of the +bronze hair, wore a long white garment, and her hair fell in heavy +braids over her shoulders; her hands were at her throat. + +For a moment they stood and stared, both speechless. Then: + +"Oh!" she repeated, with a hysterical little laugh. "You frightened me! +I woke up and--" She swallowed with difficulty. Her eyes dropped to her +nightdress, she threw a significant look toward him and darted into her +room. + +Not until he heard the key turn in the lock did he remember the very +substantial reason for his presence on the portico--and then that reason +was nowhere in sight, but was, he surmised, at a safe distance, +laughing at the awkwardness of all sahibs in general and one sahib in +particular. + +His face burning, and not altogether from the heat, he returned to his +room. The glowing hands of his wrist-watch pointed to nearly two +o'clock. + +When he switched on the light it shone on six cartridges lying upon the +table--cartridges that deft fingers had removed from his revolver and +left to mock him. It was no mystery how the thief had managed to get in, +for he knew that entrance could be effected with the aid of a master +key, but it did puzzle him that neither his money nor the contents of +his bag were touched. He suspected, however, now that he had time to +review the affair, that the intruder had not come bent on loot, but +after one particular thing--and when he assured himself that that thing +was safe under his pillow, he guessed that his awakening had prevented +the man from making away with it. + +As he held up the envelope, he was once more seized by an impulse to +open it. But, as before, he placed the tempting object under the pillow. +Then he returned the cartridges to the breech, and, after propping a +chair against the door, turned off the light and stretched himself upon +the bed. + +Again a wave of mystery had lapped up and touched him, and receded +without leaving a hint of the power that energized it. He could not +suspect Sarojini Nanjee, for he saw no reason why she should have the +envelope stolen. Other hands were at work. + +But thoughts and questions did not harry him long. He felt certain that +he need not fear another intrusion that night, and when drowsiness +returned he yielded to it. + + +6 + +The next morning at _burra hazri_, or "big breakfast," he found himself +searching the dining-hall for the bronze-haired girl; but she was not +there, nor did she appear during the meal. + +When he returned to his room he discovered a letter under the door, and +tore it open with quickened interest as he recognized the handwriting +and inhaled the delicate fragrance of sandalwood. + + GREETINGS! + + You will no doubt be surprised when I inform you that instead + of going to Bombay, you will go to Calcutta. The address of the + place to which you are to report is set forth in the packet I + gave you, and which you, being a man of honor, have not read + ere you receive this. I told you Bombay last night because one + can never be sure there are no ears listening, even in one's + own house. + + Your bearer, Rawul Din (who, I assure you, is worthy of the + confidence you impose in him) will by this time be on his way + to Bombay, which inconvenience to you I regret exceedingly. + However, you shall have a servant. One Tambusami, an excellent + bearer, will meet you in Calcutta. Regarding your own man, + Rawul Din: he is, I am sure, a most obedient servant and will + carry out your instructions by waiting in Bombay. + + Meanwhile, I trust you will have a most pleasant journey and + will grow in both wisdom and prosperity. + + Your humble servant, + + SAROJINI NANJEE + +When Trent finished reading the letter he smiled. He felt no anger, nor +even chagrin; he was amused; he could picture with what satisfaction she +penned that missive. She was as full of tricks as a street-juggler, this +Swaying Cobra. Whether she discovered Kerth's true identity or only +suspected he might act as a listening-post for the Intelligence +Department, he did not know; he knew only that Sarojini Nanjee had +outwitted the Government in the first move of the game. + +The remainder of the morning he spent in making arrangements for his +departure. While he was having his luggage removed from his room he saw +the bronze-haired girl--a glimpse of white and gold as she crossed the +portico. She did not even glance at him. + +Two-thirty, with a sun glaring down implacably upon the dusty +Cantonment, found him pacing the platform of the railway station. +Suddenly he caught a glimmer of bronze, a familiar face among many +unfamiliar ones. It may have been the advent of the train, roaring up in +a cloud of heat, that made her turn quickly--and it may not. She hurried +into a carriage, followed by a porter in a flowered chintz coat. + +As the train puffed out, Trent drew from his pocket the envelope +Sarojini Nanjee had given him and tore off the end; read the closely +written pages; reread them; made a few notes; memorized certain +passages, and consigned the packet to ashes. One sentence stood out in +his brain, in raised lettering: + + ... Thursday night to the house of his Excellency the Mandarin + Li Kwai Kung, in the Street of the River of the Moon, which is + in the Chinese colony at Calcutta. + +It was Wednesday now. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +INTERLUDE + + +Calcutta was luxuriating in the amber and blue of a clear day when Trent +detrained in the Howrah Station the following morning; detrained as Mr. +Robert Tavernake of London, in light gray tweeds, instead of Major +Arnold Trent of Gaya, whose military trappings, with his identity, were +secreted in a trunk. + +As he neared the front arches of the building, with a porter in tow, he +was hailed by a drill-clad officer. + +"Hello, Trent!" exclaimed the uniformed one, whom he recognized as a +former messmate. "_Quo vadis_, you old mummy?" + +Trent, not blind to the fact that he was being eyed by a native in +horn-rimmed spectacles and a pink turban, returned the greeting with a +polite smile. + +"Sorry," he said; "You must be mistaken"--and walked on. + +"Crazy?" wondered the surprised officer, "or am I?" + +He stared at Trent's gray back and sunburnt neck--and he was not the +only one, for at least two others did. + +As the porter put Trent's luggage into an automobile, the expected +happened: the spectacled, pink-turbaned native approached, beamed upon +him and spoke in suave tones, in English. + +"You are Tavernake Sahib?" + +Trent nodded. "Tambusami?" + +The pink turban inclined forward as he salaamed. "I have a communication +for the Presence!" he announced, extending an envelope that distilled an +unmistakable perfume. + +Trent did not open it, but thrust it into his pocket and instructed: + +"Get in." + +The motor car rolled across the Hoogly and deposited Trent and his +involuntarily acquired servant at a hotel off the Maidan. There he +dismissed his bearer. + +"I sha'n't want you this morning," he told the pink-turbaned Tambusami, +resolving to experiment with him. + +And the native departed with a most profound salaam. + +A half hour later, over breakfast, Trent read the note from Sarojini +Nanjee. It wished him welcome to Calcutta and urged him to listen well +when he visited his Excellency the Mandarin Li Kwai Kung--"who lives in +that very poetic Street of the River of the Moon," as she put it. "I +regret that it will be impossible for me to see you in Calcutta," she +concluded. "Meanwhile, I trust you will find Tambusami an excellent +bearer." + +"Hmm," he thought, "if she won't be able to see me in Calcutta, where +the deuce will she see me?" + +Then he turned his attention to the "Daily Indian News," perused the +closely-set columns while he finished his meal, and, after breakfast, +set out for a stroll. He moved north along Chowringhee, past +green-grown gardens, and into a quarter where the streets swam in +intense white sunlight and men and women of every caste and color +pressed close to the flanks of harnessed beasts. It did not disturb him +in the least when a backward glance showed him a pink turban following +at a discreet distance; he smiled. When he had filled his pipe, he +turned toward the riverfront. He felt rather in the mood for a tramp, so +he increased his pace--strode on. He reached the Hoogly Bridge; followed +Harrison Road. After an hour of steady walking he of the pink turban +showed signs of weakening. Trent, perspiring freely yet not +uncomfortable, suddenly plunged into a side street, made a series of +turns and came out, eventually, near the Secretariat--without the pink +turban. There he encountered the officer he had met in the Howrah +Station earlier that morning. + +"Hello, Ayrton," was Trent's genial greeting. "Sorry I couldn't speak to +you this morning--but too many ears were listening." + +"So!" commented the officer, wisely. "You're doing _that_ now!" He shook +his head with assumed gravity. "Government's gone mad--madder 'n a March +hare!" A laugh. "I suppose you're shadowing Ghandi!" + +Trent grinned and made an inconsequential remark. + +"Here permanently?" he queried. + +"End of my life, I daresay," was the gloomy reply. + +"You can do me a favor, then"--thus Trent. "I've a uniform I want to rid +myself of temporarily; don't object if I send it around for you to +keep?... Thanks." + +They chatted for a few minutes; then the officer entered one of the +buildings facing the square, and Trent returned to his hotel. + +He arrived hot and perspiring, and sat down upon the veranda to wait. +And before long the pink turban appeared in the street below. Their +glances met and Trent motioned to him. + +"Why did you follow me?" he demanded, as Tambusami, sweat flowing from +every pore of his brown face, salaamed. + +"My orders, O Presence!" + +"Whose orders?" + +"The Presence knows!" + +Trent thought a moment. Then: "I object to it." + +Tambusami smiled broadly. "But, O Presence, it is for your good that I +follow--to protect you!" + +And knowing it was useless to tell him he lied, the Englishman dismissed +him curtly. + +Trent spent an idle afternoon. He did not leave the hotel, for he feared +that he would encounter other acquaintances, as he had met Ayrton, and +with Tambusami tracking him it might make more insecure his position. To +be sure, Sarojini Nanjee knew he was Arnold Trent--but did Tambusami? + +As he lay sprawled across his bed, enjoying the inactivity and listening +abstractedly to the sounds from the street, a recollection of the +bronze-haired girl insinuated itself into his thoughts. Subconsciously, +he wondered why the remembrance of her came to him. He hadn't seen her +since she entered the carriage at Benares Cantonment; didn't know +whether she left the train along the route or in Calcutta. Queer that +this girl should have crossed the border of mere observation. Yet, had +he analyzed it, he would have known the reason. The world, that is, the +great firmament of existence around his immediate sphere, was to him a +scroll of faces. Now and then some countenance was lifted from the +multitude--a swift glimpse of eyes in the dusk, eyes he would never see +again, and for many nights afterward, when he sat alone with his pipe +and the stars, he would spin webs of glamour. A quixotic person, this +Trent.... The girl, then, was one of the lifted faces. Skin of old ivory +hue, he mused, and hair--now, just what color was it? His imagination +supplied a simile. Golden, with little flickerings of auburn--like +firelight on bronze. The figure rather pleased him. Firelight on bronze. +A contrast to Sarojini Nanjee. One the jungle orchid, blossom of purple +shadows; the other ... well, the type one liked to picture at a piano in +a dusk-deepened room, with hands gleaming pale as moonlight.... + +Sentimentalism, he concluded. And dropped off to sleep. + + +2 + +Dusk had fallen when he awakened. He dressed quickly and went below. +Tambusami was nowhere in sight; however, he suspected his shadow was not +far away. Doubtless the native knew of his appointment in the Chinese +quarter, but he determined if possible not to have him at his heels. To +this end he took an automobile part of the way, by a roundabout route; +then, certain he had eluded his tracker, set out on foot to finish the +journey. + +An intense vitality lived in every line of his body as he swung along +crowded streets, a tall, trim figure in white linens, smoking a cheroot +with the air of a globe-trotter trickling through the evening swarm for +no other purpose than to absorb atmosphere, instead of a man approaching +an uncertain venture. + +Native Calcutta was airing itself after a hot day, and a film of color +and life unreeled in the early night. He passed two sailors from a +British man-o'-war, younger by ten years than himself, clean-clipped +chaps. The sight of them brought back the old dream--freedom and the +quest for fabulous isles. He rather envied that pair, irresponsibly +young. Always there, this dream, lurking in the subconscious, eager for +some incident to draw it into the conscious. + +From the thronged bazaars he turned into a quarter that was no less +crowded, but with people of a different sort. It was as though he had +descended into another world, a planet of dirt and filth and sin--sin in +its nakedness, as only Asiatic cities know how to strip it of its +glamour. A foul artery fed with the virus of the East--beings whose +faces were mottles of yellow and brown and chocolate black upon the +mephitic gloom. A woman in satin trousers ran out of a balconied house +and clutched his arm, whispering an entreaty; she cursed him in bastard +English when he thrust her away. Something of psychic consciousness came +to him from the street, as though fanned into momentary being were the +sparks of old evil.... Babylon and Rome, and the perished cities of the +Nile.... + +Once clear of this humanity-clogged artery with its aura of ancient sin, +he found himself in the quieter, though scarcely cleaner, Chinese +quarter. Jews, Parsees and Chinamen; black and gilt signs; open doors +that, like dragon-mouths, expelled the mingled odors of _samshu_ and +soy, of cassia and joss-sticks and opium; an atmosphere that transported +Trent to the picturesquely wicked towns of the Straits Settlements. + +The Street of the River of the Moon belied its name; it was no more than +an alley and it slunk in the shadows of unpretentious houses. Its lights +were dim, many-colored globes afloat on warm darkness; it was as +mysterious as the numerous slant-eyed yellow men who came and went so +soundlessly in its shifting dusks. After several inquiries Trent located +the residence of his Excellency the Mandarin Li Kwai Kung--a dark, +colonnaded pile. He jerked the leather strap that hung from a panel of +the door; heard a muffled tinkle, the padding of feet. The door opened +wide enough to permit a yellow face to peer out. + +"Tell his Excellency that Mr. Tavernake is here," Trent instructed. + +The door closed quickly; again the padding of feet. After a moment the +yellow face reappeared. This time the door opened sufficiently for +Trent to see a house-boy in a slop-shop suit and a black skull-cap. + +"His Excellency sends greetings and bids you enter his dwelling," +announced the house-boy. + +The door closed behind Trent. He was in a hall where a _dong_, swinging +from brass chains, kindled an orange flame against the semi-darkness, +where a stale-sweet scent clung to the air and gloom varnished +everything. + +The house-boy took his shoes and gave him straw sandals, afterward +leading him through a series of doors to a corridor where the rich, +stupefying odor of opium saturated the atmosphere. A sliding door was +pushed back--a black door inlaid with characters in glistening +nacre--and Trent stepped into a dimly illuminated area. + +A lamp with a yellow shade hung by invisible means from an invisible +ceiling, casting a pyramid of ochre light upon a figure that squatted on +silken cushions beneath it--a figure arrayed in a loose yellow garment +and the embroidered boots of a mandarin's undress. He was grossly obese, +with drooping gray mustaches and oblique, beady eyes--a grotesque effigy +made more unreal by the incense that floated up from a brazier at his +side and wreathed bluish spirals on the dead air around him. Trent +received an impression of sheeny hangings beyond the radius of the lamp; +vases and gold-embroidered screens--a web of shadows, with, in its +center, this gorged yellow spider. + +His Excellency rose with visible effort, smiled blandly and shook his +own hands within his brocaded sleeves. + +"You will do me the honor to be seated?" he enquired, gesturing toward a +pile of cushions opposite him. "My house is flattered that one of such +fame should lighten it with his presence." + +Trent waited for his host to be seated, knowing this to be a custom, +then dropped cross-legged on the cushions. Followed the usual exchange +of lilied words, of felicitations and compliments. Afterward, Li Kwai +Kung struck a gong and a little rice-powdered, red-lipped girl appeared +from behind the dusky screens, like a figure out of one of Pan Chih Yu's +poems, and set a brass basin filled with scented water before Trent. +When he had washed his hands the basin was removed. More lilied words, +more felicitations and compliments. Then, a few minutes later, the first +course of the meal was served. + +"_Ch'ing chih fan_," said the mandarin graciously--by which he invited +Trent to eat. + +Bamboo shoots, rice-cakes and honey; roast duck flavored with soy, seeds +of lotus in syrup; prawns, sweetmeats, nuts and tea made fragrant with +petals of jasmine. A very celestial meal. They talked as they ate, and +if his Excellency clung to the custom of balancing food on his chop +sticks and thrusting it unexpectedly into his guest's mouth, as an act +of courtesy, he refrained from doing so on this occasion. Trent grew +anxious to have the formalities over with. He knew he was undergoing a +test; upon the success of this interview, he imagined, depended his +future safety. + +When the meal was finished, Li Kwai Kung asked: + +"Will you join me with a pipe?... No?" + +A ring of the gong brought the serving-maid with cigars. His Excellency +declined to smoke tobacco; instead he spoke to the girl in his own +tongue and she vanished, to reappear presently with the requisites of an +opium smoker--a lighted lamp on a tray, a blue jar containing +poppy-treacle, and a metal pipe. The jar, Trent observed, was a piece of +blue porcelain of the Sung period. + +Then, after the manner of the East, which is to say, obliquely, his +Excellency approached the subject of Trent's visit. + +"There are certain necessary precautions," he began, while the girl +twisted a black gummy substance about a needle and held it over the +lamp, "before we enter into any discussion." + +Trent opened his shirt and revealed a coral pendant chased with silver, +lying against his skin. Li Kwai Kung nodded. + +"And if I say, 'It is a wise man who holds his tongue in the presence of +knaves,'" pursued the mandarin, "what would be your comment?" + +"I would reply with the ancient wisdom of Lao Tzu--'By many words wit is +exhausted; it is better to preserve a mien.'" + +Li Kwai Kung nodded again. "_Hao_," he grunted--and his guest did not +know that was a signal for the house-boy, armed with a revolver, to +retire from behind one of the many screens. + +"It is needless, I am sure," the Oriental resumed, "for me to caution +you, who are about to start on a journey to the dwelling-place of +_He-whose-wisdom-is-as-a-lamp-filled-with-much-oil_, that the discreet +man questions himself, a fool others. You will tread the path of +discretion, I know, for I perceive that the light of intelligence burns +with much brightness in your brain." + +A pause. Trent studied the blue porcelain jar. Li Kwai Kung took the +metal pipe from the girl and inhaled; bluish vapor welled from his +nostrils, half-obscuring his countenance. + +"The arm of the Order is long and powerful, like Mother Yangtze, and its +eyes are as many as the stars." Their glances met; no expression was +mirrored in either face. "Yours is a great work to do," continued his +Excellency, sinking deeper among the cushions and expelling smoke. "The +Order will reward the faithful; they shall flourish as the +willow-branch. The first step of your journey to the City of the Falcon +will be taken shortly--and what sage was it that said, 'A journey of a +thousand miles begins with one step'?" + +The obese effigy smiled, pleased with his knowledge, and Trent felt that +each word had its own hidden significance. Curiosity pricked him, like a +needle flashing back and forth across the loom of thought. But he smoked +his cigar and stared at the blue jar as if he had nothing weightier than +the Sung porcelain upon his mind. + +"As a man climbs a mountain by terraces, so will you travel to the city +where dwells the Falcon, he who guides the workings of the Order," Li +Kwai Kung went on. "There, having attained the summit, you will--er--see +light. The next terrace of your journey is Burma." + +He withdrew an object from under the cushions and Trent looked upon a +packet wrapped in white silk. The mandarin, placing his pipe in a bowl +at his side, rested a contemplative gaze upon the silken wrapping. + +"Passage for Rangoon has been booked for you on the _Manchester_, which +leaves day after to-morrow. Here"--indicating the packet--"are all +necessary papers. When you reach Rangoon you will take a train, as soon +as convenient, for Myitkyina, where you will go to the shop of Da-yak, +the Tibetan, and identify yourself by showing the symbol of the Order. +He will furnish you with a _hu-chao_, or, as you would say, a passport, +to a--er--higher terrace." + +He handed the packet to the Englishman, who placed it in his pocket. +Trent's thoughts were revolving about what he had just heard--revolving +and reaching no end. Myitkyina. Upper Burma. Were the jewels in Burma? +But why Burma? How were they taken there? "Under the protection of your +Secret Service," Sarojini Nanjee had said. Were they hidden somewhere in +the hills? Myitkyina. He tried to visualize a map; failed.... This City +of the Falcon: in Burma? And the Falcon? Who was he? White or +Oriental?... Groping--groping in the dark--a purposeless circle. At +least, this Order was no small one. + +"I believe there are no further instructions to deliver," he heard Li +Kwai Kung say. "Regarding the trivial matter of your--er--incidentals, I +presume you have been told to keep an account and submit it at the +proper time?... No?... Then do so, as it is the wish of the Order that +you suffer no personal expenses.... Stay,"--as Trent made a move to +leave--"it would be ungracious for me to allow so honorable a guest to +depart without further hospitality!" + +The little Chinese maid brought liquor--a sort of _arak_ that, despite +his Excellency's comment that it was a draught of the gods, tasted like +sweetened vinegar to Trent. As the Englishman sipped the wine he +continued to mull over what Li Kwai Kung had told him. The +formidableness of the Order amazed him, troubled him not a little. This +Falcon had a nest in Calcutta and Myitkyina. Where else? What of his +brood? Why not, he mused, report what he knew to the Intelligence +Department; let them swoop down upon these two nests; thus avoid any +treachery that Sarojini might contemplate? An idea that he instantly +dismissed, for to act prematurely was to invite defeat. He was under +orders--and he had given his word of honor. Seek the root of the vine, +the seed from which the Order flowered; then exterminate it. + +Trent saw by his wrist-watch that it was nearly ten o'clock when he +finally rose to take his leave. Li Kwai Kung lifted his corpulent person +with an effort and repeated the ceremony of vigorously shaking his own +hands. + +"A sage once said, 'A man's actions are the mirrors of his heart,'" was +his parting remark. "And, verily, I have looked into your heart!" +(Which, Trent reflected later, was a rather cryptic compliment.) "May +you flourish in wisdom and wealth, as the blossoms of the almond tree +flourish after the snows have melted and run down from the Yunnan-fu!" + +Trent inclined his head gravely. "And may the Green Gods grant you the +Twelve Desires!" he returned. + +The house-boy appeared; his Excellency sank among his cushions, like a +spider retiring to its gossamer web; and Trent was led back through the +series of doors to the outer portal, where he exchanged the straw +sandals for his shoes, and left the colonnaded residence--left a world +of mystery for a world of noise and heat, of odorous reality and pale +lanterns that reflected upon yellow faces and sloe-dark eyes. + +He was a short distance beyond the mouth of the alleyway when a gharry +rolled by. He started to call after it--an impulse born dead. It was not +late; he would walk. Motion accelerated his thoughts. And he wanted to +think. + +As he strode along the street, fragments of the obese mandarin's +conversation slid into his brain and receded, like waves gently +insinuating themselves upon a beach. Casually (he had turned into a +narrow highway of balconies, of swinging signs and Chinese scrolls) he +noticed a white woman on the opposite side of the street--only noticed +her, for he knew the type that haunted this quarter. He would have +expelled her instantly from his mind had not she moved from the shadow +into a band of light that extended beyond a doorway; had not he seen +her pause and draw away, as from a plague, as a Chinaman slunk past. The +glow fell upon a face of old ivory hue, upon hair as bronze as the +lettering upon the black scroll above her wide-brimmed hat. + +He drew a quick breath. + +The girl evidently recognized him as he recognized her, for she darted +out of the band of light and to his side. Dark eyes looked into his from +under the brim of her hat. She smiled, half with fright, half ashamed. + +"I--I've been very foolish," she said, much after the manner of a truant +child. "Please take me out of this dreadful place!" + +Trent did not speak immediately; grasped her arm; looked about; hailed a +dilapidated carriage that was rattling by. As it came to a halt he said +"Get in!" much after the manner of a stern parent. + +She smiled again, that same half-frightened, half-ashamed smile, and +obeyed. + +Thus she of the bronze hair stepped from Trent's world-scroll into a +sphere of more intimate association. + + +3 + +The girl was the first to speak. + +"Really, I don't know what to say. I hope you don't think--" + +"I think as you do," he interposed, "that you've been very foolish." + +She laughed tremulously. A voice as soft as a gentle monsoon rain--a +voice that slurred over its words. Wisps of hair were burnished by +passing lights; her throat shone palely. Only the eyes were in the +shadow--dark eyes, deep with mystery and a promise of revelations.... +Old ivory and bronze. A picture of soft tones and colors. + +"My brother would--well, I hardly know what he _would_ do if he knew +about this!" + +"Your brother's in the city?"--conscious of a lingering strain. + +She shook her head. "I'm alone, or I wouldn't have done what I did +to-night--or what I'm doing now. It was brazen of me to come up to you +as I did, but I was frightened--terribly!" Then, with that nervous +little laugh, she added, "But it wasn't as though I were approaching a +totally strange person, for--for I believe you were at the hotel in +Benares." + +Trent remembered his uniform and that now he was Tavernake--remembered +divers things. He decided quickly. + +"You must be mistaken about having seen me at Benares; but I've a +brother there--in the Army. Perhaps you saw him. He passed through the +city to-day." + +"Oh! Perhaps so!"--this rather frigidly. "What a striking likeness!" He +felt her eyes upon him--those dark eyes. A moment passed before she +said: "I must explain why I'm here, at this hour. Of course it will seem +foolish to you, but I'm a tourist, and I wanted to see Calcutta's +Chinese colony at night--oh, it had to be night, because I knew +everything would be tawdry and ugly in daylight!" + +It didn't seem at all foolish to him, only indiscreet. + +"I hired a registered guide. He was to show me the temple of--of +Kwan-te, I believe. Anyhow, he assured me it would be perfectly +safe--and, knowing that it wasn't, but rather enjoying the idea, I went. +But I didn't see the temple. There was a street fight between some +Chinese and Brahmins--Chinese and Brahmins _do_ fight, don't they? In +the confusion my guide disappeared. Perhaps he joined in or ran--I +suspect the latter. I was so frightened when I found myself alone--and +I--well, I walked a short distance--and then--then I saw you." + +He realized he ought to say something to fill in the gap that followed, +but he was not a man given to much conversation and for the time nothing +suggested itself. Finally: + +"I hope you've learned a lesson"--grimly. + +She laughed, and the nervous note had gone from her voice. Again he +thought of cool monsoon showers. + +"I'm afraid I'm incorrigible! Now that I'm safe, I think I really +enjoyed it. Being a man, you'll disapprove." + +"Thoroughly," he responded. + +Conversation lagged for a brief spell. The girl took it up. + +"You see, Mr.--" + +She stopped and he supplied: + +"Tavernake--Robert Tavernake." + +"I forgot we hadn't been introduced. My name is Dana Charteris. I was +going to say that this is like a fairy tale to me--some 'Arabian +Nights' story. Since I was a child I've wanted to travel--to see +Aladdin's palace and Sinbad's islands--and now I'm doing it. I lived in +a town called Bayou Latouche, in Louisiana, U. S. A., and, you know, +Bayou Latouche scarcely prepares one for this!"--with a gesture. "It +reminds me of carnival in New Orleans." + +"You've not been disillusioned?" + +"In India? No." + +"Of course you have visited Agra." + +"No, I haven't seen the Taj. It's a frightful confession to make, isn't +it?" + +He reflected upon the question and decided: + +"It's rather jolly to find some one who's traveled in India without +seeing the Taj. Sort of different. But I forgot to ask where you wanted +to go. For some reason I took it for granted that you're staying at the +Grand." + +"That's almost clairvoyant; I am stopping there." + +When he had instructed the _gharry-wallah_, she asked: + +"You don't live in Calcutta?" + +Making conversation, he thought. + +"My home is the world." Then, specifically, "I live in London. I +represent a diamond firm." + +Before she spoke he knew quite well what she was going to say. + +"Jewels always fascinate me. Isn't it frightful about the gems that were +stolen?" + +"Rather," was the close-mouthed reply. + +"Just fancy losing all those jewels!" she went on. "My brother said +they are worth millions or _lakhs_ and _lakhs_ of rupees, to be proper. +I suppose it's the work of this Chavigny who's reported to be at large. +You've heard of him, haven't you?" + +He answered in the affirmative and, inwardly, expressed relief that they +were nearing the end of the ride. + +"I can't ever thank you enough," she told him as they left the gharry +and entered the hotel. + +In the better light he saw her eyes for the first time and explored a +new dimension of strength and dignity. He felt as though he looked into +the rich glow of autumn forests, spaces of warmth and color and +spirit--an initiation into the sense of discovery and lofty exhilaration +that Balboa must have known when he gazed upon the shining expanse of an +unknown sea. It was a glimpse into some high arcanum--to him new, but to +the world as ancient as the tale of Cana of Galilee. + +"I hope I'll see you before I leave," she said in a way that would have +made it impossible for him to misunderstand, had he been inclined to do +so. "Good night." + +He watched her go.... And when he reached his room and examined the +silk-wrapped papers Li Kwai Kung had given him, she persisted in +cleaving through his thoughts, in appearing from the pages before him +and distracting him; and after a few minutes he re-wrapped the packet +and placed it in his trunk. + +Long after he plunged the room into darkness he lay thinking--thinking +of Kerth in Bombay, of his Excellency Li Kwai Kung sitting in his +shadowy room, like a yellow-bellied spider, and of the Order of the +Falcon. The _Manchester_ was to sail Saturday; it was Thursday now. Two +days, an interlude; then the Bay, Rangoon and-- + +But would he see _her_ before he left? + + +4 + +Morning and a hint of coolness caressing the air. Sampans and other +craft rocked and crooned in the murky Hoogly. Gauzy streamers of smoke +floated over the jute-mills of Howrah. Sunshine drenched the modern +buildings of Dalhousie Square and Government Row; submerged the myriad +bazaars and shops in yellow liquor; crept into the room where Trent was +sleeping and aroused him with an impelling finger. + +He dressed and went to breakfast. When he left the dining-hall his +attention was arrested by a black straw hat with a sheaf of cornflowers +and ripe yellow wheat about the crown. A tendril of hair glowed against +the somber brim. She was talking with a native, an itinerant merchant; a +string of beads hung from her white fingers. Trent approached from +behind and spoke. + +"He's asking entirely too much for those stones, Miss Charteris." + +She turned, smiling. He felt the same warmth in her brown eyes as on the +previous night. + +"You always appear at the psychological moment--or rather," she +interpolated, "this time at the financial moment." + +She returned the beads to the merchant, who took no pains to hide his +displeasure at Trent's interposition. + +"I'm really glad you appeared--for a purely selfish reason. I want to +buy some things to send home, and I know if I go alone I'll be cheated +outrageously. I wonder if you'd care to go with me? However, I suppose +that, man-like, you detest shopping with a woman." + +"I don't object at all," he said. + +"And you really haven't any business engagements?" + +"I'm free until to-morrow." + +"Oh, you're leaving Calcutta then?" + +"Yes." + +"So am I"--with a smile. + +She raised a silk parasol of pongee-color as they left the hotel, and +the sun reflected a rich glow through the fine texture. + +"You see," she explained, "I taught music at Bayou Latouche and I +promised my pupils I'd send them each a remembrance from India." + +He might have known she was a musician. There was a depth of conception +in her that was lyrical, a somber yet thrillingly-alive tone, of which +her eyes were the pinnacle-expression. _Andante appassionato._ Queerly, +that term came to him. His mental portrait of the day before blended in +with actuality: White hands brushing the keys in a dusk-varnished room; +nothing heavy, some old song, redolent of recollections.... + +"Is this your first trip to India?" he heard her asking. The clamor of +Chowringhee was in his ears, but her voice rang clearly through the +sounds, an unbroken thread in the tangle of city streets. + +"No. Mother India called me when I was a boy. I used to hunt with my +father." That was true; for some reason he detested lying to her. + +"Hunting! Tiger?" + +He nodded. + +"Is it true," she queried, "that there are mystics who walk in the +jungles with animals--who belong to a sort of brotherhood of the wild +and understand tiger and python and cobra?" + +"The jungle has her own secrets," was his reply; "things that white men +will never know." + +"I heard a man," she resumed, "a converted Brahmin priest, lecture in +New Orleans. He told of his boyhood; of the magic lore of the +'Mahabarata' and the 'Ramayana'; and of a time when an old priest--he +called him a _Saddhu_--took him into the jungle at night, and he heard +the many animal-sounds--the voices of the jungle. He said that once +green eyes peered at them, so close that he could hear the quick +breathing of the beast, and the old priest only looked into the +eyes--oh, he described that look as so potent and unafraid!--and soon +the eyes disappeared. I've always remembered that. Since then I've +wanted to _feel_ the jungle--and the power of will that can soothe a +great animal. Yet I suppose Mother India, as you call her, is suspicious +of us foreigners who try to pry into her secrets. And yet"--the brown +eyes were filled with reflections--"perhaps she has a right to be +resentful, for men have maligned and misrepresented her so, credited her +with false mysticism, with _Mahatmas_ and cults of which she isn't +guilty." Then she laughed--a little ripple that broke the smooth spell. +"I--an outsider--talk as if I were intimate with India! Although +sometimes I do feel that I must have known India before; a haunting +familiarity. That's why I came--to see if my visions were aright." Again +the rippling laugh. "But I'm sure you'll think me an Annie Besant, +incognito, if I talk on like this!" + +"Not at all"--smiling. "I'm interested." + +"But you should tell me of India; for you've hunted in her forests and +wild places. Oh, it must be wonderful to know the world!" + +"Well, I'd scarcely say I know the world," he corrected; "only a few +Indian and Persian cities--and some of the more southern watering-places +of Asia. I was stationed for a while at Singapore." + +"Stationed? You mean in the interest of your firm--or were you in the +Army then, like your brother?" + +"In the Army," he answered, again experiencing that insurrection against +falsehood. + +"I see," she commented. A wistful sigh. "I think I should have been a +man. Penang, Shanghai and Zanzibar, those cities with such thrillingly +wicked names, fascinate me; Tibet and inner China, all the far places, +call. There's something pagan and magnificent about it--a sort of broken +thread in me that matches the tapestry of it all. Oh, I'm sure I should +have been a man! I know if I were, I'd be an explorer and hunt among the +ruins of the Phoenicians and the Incas, and those other remnants of +ancient civilizations." + +Her words brought a tightening of the cords in his throat. Another who +dreamed of the fabulous isles! But, for a reason he did not analyze, he +could not place her in the picture she painted. Always, to him, the +music-room--white hands in the dusk. + +"But I'll have my fling," she continued; "only in a mild degree. My +brother's home is in Burma. I'm going to live with him, and we plan to +slip off every now and then. A trip to Malaya or Borneo or Java--I've +heard so much of the beauty of Batavia--or up the other way to Siam. +Siam! Isn't the very name magic? Bejewelled dancers and emerald Buddhas +and theaters where they pantomime ancient tales!... I'm not a reformist +in the least, but there's one sort of 'uplift work' I'd love to do--a +'purpose in life,' as some call it. I'd like to visit the far places and +return home and lecture to those whose boundaries are their own yards, +and try to make them understand that on the other side of the world +there are civilizations so much mellower than their own, and doctrines +of existence that have nothing to do with mints and stock exchanges!" + +Her voice was an expression of the high arcanum that he had glimpsed in +her eyes. Here was a woman who possessed the rare triumvirate of flesh +and mind and soul; whose gifts to men were other than brief summer +passions and earthly donations. He felt that it was irreverent when he +asked if he might smoke. As he touched a match to his cheroot, she went +on: + +"Oh, the West knows so little about the East, and the East so little +about the West, that it isn't strange that one misunderstands the +other.... But I'm boring you with this talk," she broke off +irrelevantly. + +"Won't you go on?"--earnestly. + +She smiled. "It's impertinence for me to tamper with mysteries that I +haven't explored. No,"--still smiling--"I'm going back to my ken--to +Siamese dancers and pantomime shows. And that reminds me, is it safe to +go to a native theater? I'd feel as if I'd missed part of Calcutta if I +didn't see a Bengali performance." + +"I wouldn't advise you to go alone." This soberly. "Too, if you don't +understand the language, it would prove rather dry entertainment." + +Another smile. "Why must a woman have such narrow man-made boundaries? +If you hint that it's dangerous, then you'll intrigue me the more." + +A recollection of the Chinese quarter flashed through him. + +"If you insist on going," he said, and he, too, was smiling, "I daresay +nothing can stop you--and the best possible thing for me to do is to +offer my guardianship." + +"It really wouldn't be stealing your time? Oh, it would be splendid!... +But you're leading me by all these shops. Shall we go in here?" + +It was an epochal morning for Trent. After the tension of the past few +days, he craved relaxation. This recess had a warmth and exhilarating +intimacy that was a stimulus to him, and he luxuriated in it, listening +attentively as the girl talked--talk that revealed little brilliant +flashes of her nature--and drinking in the study of rich tints that her +face and hair presented in the straw-colored light beneath her sunshade. +He had the feeling of a seaman in port, a boyish thrill at the freedom +from restraint; a few hours shore leave, then the sea again. He entirely +forgot his substantial shadow until they returned to the hotel. The +sight of the pink turban whipped him back into tension. + +"At five-thirty," she said as they parted. "And I'm sure it will be a +wonderful adventure." + +As she left him, Tambusami approached, smiling his ingratiating smile. + +"I have news to report, Presence," he announced. "It is indeed well that +I am here to protect your interests, for while you were away some one +entered your room, and had not I appeared at the opportune moment he +might--" + +"You had him arrested?" Trent cut in. + +"I went to your room, and hearing strange sounds within, I looked +through the keyhole and saw a man--a brown man. Knowing he was a thief, +I took the liberty of entering. He had opened your trunk--oh, they are +clever, these thieves!--but he did not have a chance to steal +anything." + +"You caught him?" + +The smile left Tambusami's face. "He was too strong for me, Presence; he +had muscles like the unicorn!" + +Trent considered a moment. Then: "Whose servant are you--mine or hers?" + +Tambusami beamed. "_She_ pays me to be _your_ bearer!" + +"Then say to her that I'm capable of taking care of myself and that +you're to be my servant from now on and _not_ my shadow. We'll only be +here until to-morrow, which no doubt she's already told you, but until +then you'll watch my room instead of me." + +Trent found the silk-wrapped packet safe in his trunk. Nothing was +disturbed or missing. However, he surmised that the "thief" gained what +he came after--knowledge of his, Trent's, destination. Was this the hand +of that mysterious power he had felt in Benares when he awakened to +discover an intruder in his room? But what power could it be? Not +Sarojini Nanjee. Who?... Plot and counter-plot. Each day fixed in him +more immovably the belief that behind the activities in which he was +involved was a sinister purpose, more stupendous, when revealed, than he +imagined. Every new incident, like a hand in the night, lured him, +beckoning, but never fulfilling the promise of disclosure. Adventure! +And only one thorn to prick the joy from it.... Manlove.... + +It came to him suddenly that perhaps, unaware of it, he was exploring +the fabulous isles of his fancy. + + +5 + +They had tea at a restaurant in Government Place. She wore the black +straw hat with cornflowers and wheat woven about the crown. White voile +caressed slender limbs and fell away in a deep hem to give a glimpse of +silk-stockinged ankles and suede shoes. + +They rode along Beadon Street in a glamorous after-sunset glow (the car +was threading through swarms whose sheet-like garments blended softly +with the gray pastel of houses and the lingering rose-light) and Trent, +eyes upon the girl, felt the sheer call of youth and romance at dusk. +The very atmosphere was an electrode, drawing its current from the first +white stars. Nor was Dana Charteris unreceptive. She was aware of a +shielding warmth, and not of the physical, in his presence. The play of +muscles of sunburnt cheek and jaw was vital and challenging, but behind +that, more convincing because it was not visible to the eye, but to a +sense of inner perception, was a compelling cleanliness; strength that +had not to do with thews or tendons. + +The theater was in a neighborhood of white houses and green palms, close +to Beadon Square; their seats in an orchestra-stall. Over the pit hung +oil lamps, round yellow moons suspended in cavernous gloom; dim electric +lights in the ceiling; about them, a loose-robed, turbaned audience, the +majority chewing pellets of crushed areca-nut and lime. + +Musicians in white raiment filed in and played an overture, and the +performance began.... A tale of chivalrous deeds and chivalrous days +(thus translated Trent in a whisper, as the actors, flashes against the +rich gloom of a back-drop, recited their lines); of Kurnavati, the Rani +of Chitor, and Humayun, the Great Mogul. Bahadur Shah, so went the +story, was hurling his armies against Chitor. The Rani had sent out the +pride of the Rajputs, but they could not check the onrush of Bahadur +Shah. Chitor was lost. Then the Rani, recalling a custom, took from her +arm a bracelet and gave it to a servant, bidding him carry it, with a +plea for succor, to Humayun, the Great Mogul. The servant departed.... +And the first act ended. + +"And you said it would be dull!" This from Dana Charteris when Trent had +explained all that happened. "Somehow it makes me think of the Brahmin +priest who lectured--a sort of thrilling mysticism; color and tragedy." + +Just before the second act Trent glanced around the betel-chewing +audience and saw--a pink turban. It disappeared as he looked, and he +smiled at the thought of Tambusami crouching between the seats of the +back row of stalls. + +The second act was at the court of Humayun. The messenger of the Rani of +Chitor arrived; presented the bracelet. Humayun, knowing of the custom, +accepted it. By that act he became the bracelet-brother of the Rani, +bound by custom to go to her if she called. Then the servant delivered +the Rani's plea. And Humayun, who was a noble monarch, drew a jewelled +sword from a jewelled scabbard and declared that the blade should not +return to its sheath until his bracelet-sister was free of the +oppression of Bahadur Shah. + +Thus the second act. There was a third; a fourth. Clash of steel upon +steel; the clangor and strident ring of battle. In the last act Humayun +reached Chitor--too late. For Kurnavati, rather than be conquered by the +terrible Bahadur Shah, died upon the funeral pyre. And Humayun, borne to +the walls in a golden palanquin, looked toward the smoky ruins and wept. + +Trent, leaving the theater, let his eyes quest over the crowd in search +of Tambusami. But he had gone. However, the Englishman suspected he +would find him at the hotel, the essence of innocence. + +"Now that you've seen the Chinese quarter and a Bengali theater," he +said as they rode toward the modern city, "what other reason can you +think of to prowl about after dark?" + +"I won't have another chance in Calcutta," she answered, smiling. "I'm +leaving to-morrow; and when I'm with my brother--well, you know how +brothers are.... I felt so sorry for the Rani in the play--she looked as +I've always visualized _Ameera_, in 'Without Benefit of Clergy.' Was +that really a custom--the part about the bracelet-brother?" + +He nodded. + +"It was superb romance." The brown eyes deepened. "I shall always +remember that story of Humayun and Kurnavati--and remember you for +explaining it to me." + +Silence of a few seconds followed. Then Trent ventured: + +"I daresay I sha'n't see you again before I go. I sail to-morrow noon." + +"Really? I'm sailing then, too. I suppose you're going back to England?" + +"No. I"--he hesitated--"I'm bound for Burma." + +She laughed, a bit tremulously--that laugh of soft monsoon showers. + +"Why, so am I. Surely you're not booked on the _Manchester_?" + +The face that was turned to her, faintly bronze in the street-lights, +was impassive enough; his only expression was of mild, polite surprise. + +"Yes--on the _Manchester_." + +His thoughts were swept by two currents, one shot with chill warnings, +the other warm with the wine of anticipation. But for the incident of +the uniform at Benares, the announcement that she would sail on the same +boat would have done anything but disturb him. However, even if she did +suspect his brother-fabrication, she could not guess his mission. As +Tavernake she knew him. A few days more--a lengthening of the +_intermezzo_, rich notes and chords of harmony to remember +afterward--then, at Rangoon, the finale. _Allegro moderato_.... No harm, +this Tavernake interlude; a cool breath to the being, like temple-dusk +after arid desert heat. + +"What a coincidence!" she remarked; then explained, "My brother lives in +Rangoon. But he isn't there now. He had an--an accident in Delhi, and I +came ahead to attend to some matters for him. Oh, nothing serious +happened to him, or I wouldn't be here. But it is queer that we're going +on the same boat. Don't you think so?" + +And he replied in a manner that was new for him. + +"Not altogether. It merely proves that Kismet had a purpose in arranging +our meeting last night." + +"A purpose?" she echoed--and they both were thinking different thoughts. + +They were in Chitpur Road; soon Chowringhee; then the hotel. To him the +throbbing of the motor car suddenly became the pulse of the night, of +the hot street where, on either side, dark faces peered curiously at +them. Subconsciously, his brain dipped back; he saw her beneath the +black-and-gold scroll on the previous night.... Her voice broke in, a +crystallization of his thoughts. + +"I was thinking how foolish it was," she said, "for me to have done what +I did last night." + +"You mean"--he smiled--"in speaking to me, or--" + +A whimsical laugh. "Both. Oh, don't misunderstand me! The thought just +occurred that--well, my adventure might have turned out differently. I'm +wondering, too, if I should have come with you to-night. Instead of a +jeweller from London, you might have been--anything. What I'm trying to +say, and doing it badly, is that after all we're prisoners of +instinct--at the mercy of elements that we have not the power to +fathom!" + +A pause ensued, and when she spoke again her tone was one of light +raillery, yet beneath it was a tense excitement that puzzled him. + +"And consider. For all you know I might have planned that meeting in the +Chinese quarter for a--a dreadful purpose. Even now I may be spinning a +web around you!" Then, with a laugh, she switched the topic. "It will be +pleasant to have an acquaintance aboard. Voyages are rather monotonous +when one is alone, don't you think?" + +Conversation was not at its best during the remainder of the ride, and +at the hotel they parted with a few words, rather stilted words. He'd +surely see her on the boat. Yes, he must look her up. She had enjoyed +the evening tremendously. A last glimpse of her eyes, of their luring +mystery; then she was gone. + + * * * * * + +Trent did not go to sleep immediately. He lay in darkness and smoked a +cheroot, puzzling over what Dana Charteris had said. + +"... For all you know I might have planned that meeting.... Even now I +may be spinning a web around you!" + +Those words lodged in his brain, baffled him. There was something he +could not understand, but none the less intriguing, in the still, +obscure depths below the surface ripples. + + +6 + +Trent did not see Dana Charteris the next day. It was raining and +Calcutta was gray and dismal. Tambusami appeared early and saw to it +that his luggage was transferred to the ship. Trent felt that his very +spirits were moist as he rode to the boat. Even his cabin was damp, +cheerless. + +Shortly before five o'clock the _Manchester_ warped out from the jetty, +her twin screws churning the brown water. Trent, looking out of his +cabin window, saw Calcutta draw robes of rain about her and fade. The +smoke-stacks of Howrah's mills were blurred fingers appealing to a stark +sky; leaves, wind-whirled from toddy-palms on the mud banks, spun across +the Hoogly; only when lightning scribbled a line of vivid lavender +across the heavens was the gray monotony relieved. + +The world was an old, old woman, and the sound of the steamer's whistle +was her hoarse, stricken voice. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HSIEN SGAM + + +Nightfall found the _Manchester's_ prow bearing into a thin mist. The +rain had slackened to a fine diamond-drizzle; lightning no longer wrote +livid ideographs upon the sky, but flashed far away in faded flares. + +Trent did not see Dana Charteris at dinner, as he expected. "_Dummkopf +Englischer_"--thus he was catalogued by a German merchant from Celebes +who sat at the same table in the dining-salon and succeeded in drawing +only monosyllables from him. The gentleman from Celebes was hot, damp +and irritable, and he found fuel for his ill-humor in the Englishman who +sat beside him and ate mangosteens with the air of one who liked such +beastly heathen food. + +After the meal Trent sought the smoking-room with a volume of lyrics, +much to the disgust of his German dinner-companion, who, in passing, +read, "Poems of Alan Seeger" over his shoulder. But Trent could not fix +his attention upon the reading matter, and he sat with the book in one +hand, a lighted cheroot in the other, and his interest nowhere in +particular. He was suffering the first anaesthetizing effects of a drowsy +boredom. + +"... You'll have to go higher than that if you want to see me!" rasped +a voice close by, and there followed a click of chips, a laugh. + +Clouds of grayish smoke, fanned into fantastic shapes by electric +punkas, floated on dead atmosphere, personifying the languor that had +suddenly quartered in Trent. A white-clad deck-steward slid through the +vaporous whorls, serving frosty glasses of _arrica_, or whiskey and soda +to those less favorably inclined toward exotic liquors. + +"... But surely, my friend, you would resent it if _we_ sent +missionaries to your country," a voice not far behind him was saying; a +quiet voice that separated itself from the drone of conversation, a +voice with a peculiar, alien note that caused Trent to wonder, after he +heard it, why it had not penetrated to him before. "Why, imagine the +indignation of your--what do you call them, New Yorkers?--if Buddhist +priests established a mission in that vast and bewildering city; if they +so presumed as to try to press their creed upon those of another +religion." + +Trent was possessed of a desire to turn; he merely sat expelling smoke +from his nostrils, listening without consciousness of eavesdropping. + +Another voice, quieter still and more reserved--an American +voice--answered. "The result of such a thing," it said, "would be ... +well, in the first place no Christian would...." + +"That is precisely it. Do you wonder, then," resumed the voice with the +alien note, "that we resent the intrusion of missionaries? What does it +matter if Deity is symbolized by Buddah, Mohammed or a Nazarene? God is +one. No, my friend, you cannot convince me that it is better for my +people to substitute your God for theirs. In other relationships they +should be friendly, and they are, but in religion ... a colossal +misunderstanding. My people are declining; soon, as a man of letters +once said, the rust of our departed glory will corrode us and reduce us +to the dust into which our empire has dwindled. Russian wine, Japanese +greed and Western vices--a combination too strong for the slender +potencies of our flesh. On the other hand, you Anglo-Saxons, Celts, +Normans, Huns and Slavs will continue to build your empires; to fight +among yourselves (there will be no war between East and West); to go +forward in science and invention.... Yes, I am returning home." + +The American voice asked a question. A laugh, selvaged with irony, +answered it, and-- + +"No, I shall not attempt to 'enlighten' my people. I have studied in +your universities, dipped into your learning; now, true to the blood, I +go back. Perhaps, were you to see me in a few months, you would be +shocked, for I shall be a 'barbarian'.... What? Satisfied? Yes, I +believe I will. Your country has its dramas, its libraries--so very +much--yet I could not but feel, when I was there, that the structure of +your land is a--a _Frankenstein_, do you call it?--of self-stimulated +delight, something soulless. Millions worshipping the false gods of +body-pleasure; vassals of the senses, ignoring the fact that there are +hungers above mere flesh-appetite." + +The voice fascinated Trent, gave him a picture of deft fingers inlaying +a mosaic; thoughts chosen with care and spoken as though filtered +through many translations before they left the tongue in the integument +of English. + +"... I hope I have not offended you," the voice resumed. "I feel no +rancour, you understand, only an ache--a very great ache--over this +colossal misunderstanding.... You must go? Then, good night!" + +A chair moved. After a moment a man in somber clerical garb passed and +left the smoking-room. Trent closed his book; placed his burnt-out +cheroot in an ash-bowl; got up. And the quiet voice behind him asked: + +"Your pardon. Have you a match?" + +Trent turned. Whatever he expected, he was surprised at what he saw. An +Oriental of no common type. He registered an impression of bronze, +almost beautiful, features; a high, Mongoloid skull; dark eyes, veiled +by an impalpable haze of tobacco smoke; moist, sensitive lips, rather +thin and too red. Features that drew and repelled him in the same +instant--face of a Buddha, and eyes.... He groped in an effort to +understand the eyes. The man wore tweeds with the air of one accustomed +to Western clothing, and he had a poise, a finish to the minutest detail +of dress, that, in a yellow man, seems sleek and "dossied" to the eyes +of the Occident. + +"Thank you," said the Oriental, as Trent gave him a match. + +The Englishman nodded perfunctorily and left the smoking-room, a picture +of the bronze, beautiful face, lighted by the flaring match, engraved +upon his brain. + +His curiosity led him to the purser's office where he consulted the +register. His eyes paused as they encountered the name "Dana Charteris"; +roved down the list of first-class passengers to a signature that stood +out from the others by its very _bizarrerie_. + +"Hsien Sgam," he mused aloud. "Hmm.... Sgam--Sgam.... Mongolian." + +And he went to his cabin to fetch a raincoat, still thinking of the +bronze face of Hsien Sgam. + + +2 + +Trent twice circled the promenade deck. The faint drizzle had ceased, +but there was a dampness in the mist that moistened his face as with +spray. Yet he could not bring himself to the point of turning in. The +scene exerted an irresistible fascination over him. The spectral pallor +of cabin walls; portholes aglow in the murk; a gentle vibration +underfoot; the _swish-swish_ of the tide against the hull. + +On his third round of the ship he paused aft, at a point that yielded a +view of gaping cargo-well and the steerage. He could see the forms of +steerage-passengers--amorphous blurs in the hazy night. A tongue of +yellow lapped out from a bleary deck-lamp and licked across crowded +bodies, groping stanchions and hatches, touching twin ventilators that +reared up, like phantom cobras, out of the jungle of human beings. Some +one was piping on a reed flageolet--an eerie, tuneless wailing. He +almost imagined the pink turban of Tambusami among the spot-like +head-dresses below. + +As he passed the wireless-house, at a turn of the promenade-deck, he +caught a glimpse of green-shaded lights. A breath of tobacco warmly +brushed his face; he heard the crackle of static trickling in. + +It was not yet ten-thirty when he went to his cabin. He undressed +leisurely, reflecting the while. Then, lighted pipe between his teeth, +he established himself in his berth with a newspaper. But the restful +churn of the engines had a somnolent effect upon him, and presently he +tossed the news-sheet away, put out the light and settled himself for +sleep. + +And did not. + +Of late, since the night he found Manlove in the ruined temple at Gaya, +he had formed the habit of reviewing, after retiring, the incidents of +the day. This habit clung. Sleep that a moment ago courted him, now +evaded his advances. A picture of the Mongol created itself in illusive +imagery before him. A woman's mouth--and a woman's hands, for the skin +that touched his as he gave the Oriental a match had the feel of satin. +Long hands, they were; but he fancied that beneath the silken smoothness +was sinuous, fibrous strength. They.... But why in Tophet was he +thinking of this Buddha-faced heathen? He shut his mind. But thoughts +refused to be excluded from their dominion. Nor could he sleep. His +eyelids rebelled against closing, and when now and then he succeeded in +downing their resistance, it was only to have them lift the next instant +and show him the dim monotony of the state-room, relieved by the murky +gray porthole. + +And as he stared at the porthole, contemplating it vindictively, as if +it were responsible for his wakefulness, it suddenly darkened. + +When he became fully cognizant of the fact that a face was peering in at +him, it had vanished--but as he sat up, his every nerve alive, he +witnessed a second apparition. + +The murk outside the porthole gave birth to a hand that sank into the +dim obscurity within, then reappeared, stamped momentarily in relief +upon the gray circle, and withdrew into the foggy gloom that had yielded +it. + +Trent sprang from his berth. As his feet touched the floor, he heard a +thudding sound on the deck; a low exclamation; running footsteps. At the +door he fumbled with the lock, then stepped into the cross-corridor +vestibule-way and rushed out upon the deck. + +A nearby deck-lamp shone in the mist like a nebula-ringed planet, +shedding paltry light upon moist timbers and begrudgingly revealing a +pale turban as it disappeared around a projection of the deckhouse. + +And there was not only one turban, for another followed the first! + +Trent threw a glance right and left; broke into a run, his bare feet +padding on the damp planks; paused at the corner of the deckhouse. A few +yards beyond, a companionway spilled a plenitude of light. Voices came +to him above the rumble of the steamer's screws; a woman's laugh. He +stood motionless for a moment, hesitating; then, chagrined, returned to +his cabin and switched on the light. + +No recess from intrigue, even on the ship! Mystery ever at his heels. +Was this another demonstration of the power whose hand he felt at +Benares and Calcutta? + +He fastened the wingbolts upon the brass-bound port-glass; pulled the +curtain to insure against observation from outside. Not until then did +the glittering object at his feet capture his attention. As he saw it a +charge, as of an electric current, tingled the length of his body. It +seemed unreal, impossible--until he picked it up. The contact assured +him it was no vision, that he held in his hand a coral silver-chased +oval with a broken clasp--the pendant that he had found in Manlove's +dead fingers. + +Cold anticipation settled upon him. He inserted a fingernail under the +band that bound the oval; hesitated, stayed by a queer reluctance. He +held what he believed to be a key to the mystery of Manlove's death. A +single move and the name engraved within would be disclosed--the +identity.... But suppose there was no name; suppose-- + +He pressed under the silver band ... and a knock sounded on the door. + + +3 + +Trent did not stir for a space of several seconds. Then, reluctantly, he +placed the pendant under his pillow and opened the door. + +A grotesque effigy grinned at him. After an intent scrutiny he +recognized Tambusami--Tambusami, turbanless, blood welling from a cut in +his cheek, but, despite the wound, smiling. + +"I have him, Presence!" he announced. + +"Who?" + +The native looked amazed at what he evidently considered gross +stupidity, and elucidated: + +"The he-goat that came to your window! It was he who--" + +Trent cut in. "Where is he?" + +"There, Presence!"--with an indefinite wave of his hand. "By the +wireless-house!" + +"Why didn't you bring him here?" + +"He is tied, Presence, to a--what do you call them?" + +"Go watch him," Trent rapped. "I'll be there directly." + +Trent slipped into trousers and coat and made his way aft, up a flight +of iron stairs, to the turn of the promenade deck. There, in the zone of +greenish light cast from the door of the wireless-house, he beheld a +startling tableau. + +Tambusani, in the grip of two white-uniformed men (from the +wireless-house or the deck-watch, Trent surmised), was protesting and +gesticulating excitedly toward a huddled figure by the rail. The latter +was a native, bound to a stanchion with a pink turban-cloth, the end of +which was stuffed into his mouth. + +"I can vouch for that man," Trent announced crisply, coming up. "The +other fellow"--pointing at the native by the rail--"is a thief. He tried +to enter my cabin. My servant happened along and followed him up here." + +He saw, then, that one of the uniformed men wore chevrons of gold +sparks; the other was a deck-steward. To the latter he spoke first. + +"Will you call the captain? I want a word with him.... Thanks." Then to +the wireless-operator: "I'll take charge of this fellow now. And you +might keep this affair quiet." + +The operator smiled wisely (he didn't have to see credentials to spot +'em!) and withdrew into the room where the powerful machines buzzed and +crackled. + +"Now, you fellow," said Trent, removing the improvised gag from the +"thief's" mouth. "Who put you up to this?" + +Sullen eyes glowed. "Yonder devourer of pork lies, Sahib!"--with a +venomous look at Tambusani. + +"Son of a dog!" flung back the other. "Mohammedan whelp!" + +"Stop it, both of you!" ordered Trent. "Tambusami, what have you to +say?" + +One hand pressed to his cheek, Tambusami explained. + +"He is a liar and a thief, O Presence. It was he I caught in your room +in Calcutta--who got away from me! I recognized him as he passed me in +the steerage--and I followed. He went to your cabin and--" + +Trent broke in, directing a question at the suspected one. + +"Do you deny that?" + +"I am an honest man, Sahib!"--sullenness giving away to fright. "That +body-louse is a sink of lies!" + +Trent pressed on. "Will you tell me who gave you that--? Well, you know +what you dropped in my cabin." + +"I am an honest man, Sahib! I was walking along the deck and--" + +"Whose servant are you?" + +"No man's. My name is Guru Singh. I go to Rangoon to--" + +"If you're not a servant, then you had no business out of the steerage. +I'm going to have you put in irons, and when we reach port you'll be +taken up by the police--" + +"No, no, Sahib! By Allah, I am an honest man!" + +Trent reflected a moment before he spoke again. "You insist, then, that +you didn't drop--something--into my cabin?" + +"Yes, Sahib!" + +The captain arrived at that juncture, a subordinate at his heels. Trent +explained to him what had happened, adding--a shade too darkly, he +thought--certain words that impressed upon that worthy officer his +authority to conclude with: "And I want him locked up." + +The captain gave an order to his subordinate, who hastened away, and +Trent addressed Guru Singh in Hindustani, which he felt certain the +master of the vessel did not understand. + +"You would rather be put in irons than tell who your master is?" + +"I have no master, Sahib!" + +"Very well. We will see how you feel about it to-morrow." + +Shortly two men appeared and led the protesting Guru Singh below--but +not before Tambusami had rescued his turban-cloth. + +"It is defiled," he said, looking at it regretfully and letting it drop +over the rail. + +"Come with me," directed Trent. "I'll take a look at your cut." + +It was only a flesh wound Trent ascertained when they were in his +state-room, and after bathing it in a sterilizing solution and binding +it with an adhesive strip, he dismissed Tambusami with a brief +commendation for his prowess. + +"It is nothing, O Presence," declared the native, magnanimously. "With a +lord who deals in magic medicines, why should not I watch over him, as a +keeper over his cheetah?" + +And the Englishman was not quite certain that Tambusami didn't wink as +he went out. + +Subconsciously, Trent had been thinking all the while of the coral +pendant; now it filled his mind. Again he felt the chill anticipation. +His hand shook as he jerked aside the pillow; shook, as he stared in +blank stupefaction. + +The oval was not there. + +As yet scarcely believing, he stripped back the sheet; turned over the +mattress; searched every crevice of the berth. But the pendant had +disappeared. It rather dazed him. Stolen. Once more a mysterious hand +had reached out and spirited away the oval. One thing it proved: that +there were two elements at work, lurking elements. But how swiftly! He +was gone only a few minutes!... Why in thundering hades hadn't he looked +inside before he went on deck? What a monumental fool! + +Which verifies for the millionth time the truth of a certain fable about +an _Equus caballus_ and a stable. + + +4 + +The next morning in the dining-salon Trent saw Dana Charteris, merely a +glimpse--a smile and a nod. She was at a table across the room. However, +later, as he was moving toward the purser's office, he came upon her aft +on the promenade deck, elbows upon the rail, eyes upon the steerage. She +turned as his step sounded behind her. + +"Isn't it glorious?" was her greeting, motioning toward the sea where +the sun had painted a glittering dragon on the intense blue. + +"Quite," he agreed, having forgotten the purser in the eternal wonder +of her eyes. "I hope you weren't ill last night?" + +"Not physically. I was doing penance." + +"I shouldn't think that would require all evening." + +A smile. "Would you like to become father-confessor?" + +"Perhaps." + +She let her eyes rest upon him in a curious, contemplative look. + +"How absolutely British!" she remarked. "An American would have agreed +instantly, but you, being British, only commit yourself half-way." + +"Isn't that diplomacy?" he asked, entering into her mood. She was +revealing another side of her nature. Each time he saw her she unfolded +more and bared to his gaze new and stimulating mysteries of her +personality. + +"Perhaps. But I sha'n't confess to you now--just for that.... I +understand you didn't have a very quiet night." + +The only surprise he betrayed was a tightening of the muscles of the +jaw. + +"Really?" + +Her smile grew into a laugh. "Show some surprise, Stone-man, instead of +trying to impress me with the fact that you've suddenly acquired an +interest down there"--her white hand flashed toward the steerage. +"You're wondering how I know it, and seething with curiosity. You +wouldn't be human if you weren't." + +"I'm not"--forcing a smile. "But if you wish it, then how _do_ you know +it?" + +"Well, it's considered excellent marine etiquette to visit the +wireless-house and worry the operator when one is bored--as I happened +to be this morning in the interim between my rising hour and +breakfast--" + +"And as feminine charm is an 'Open Sesame' to the secrets of +wireless-operators," Trent finished up, "this particular one told all he +knew." + +"Am I to accept that as flattery?" + +"Is it?" he countered; then, eager to learn just how much she knew, he +remarked casually: "Thieves are thick as mosquitoes in Asiatic +countries." + +"I know," was her unsatisfactory response, and, proof that a woman can +be quite uncommunicative when she wishes, she diverted conversation into +another channel. "I'm afraid, Mr. Tavernake, I've impressed you as +being--well, a foolish flippant child." + +His eyes met hers--barely a second. + +"Why should you think that?" + +She shrugged. "Oh, my endless talk of--of travel." + +He took out his pipe, asked permission to smoke; filled the bowl and +lighted it before he quoted: + + We are those fools who could not rest + In the dull earth we left behind.... + +She took him up: "Doesn't it go on with--" + + The world where wise men live at ease + Fades from our unregretful eyes, + And blind across uncharted seas + We stagger on our enterprise. + +He nodded. While she was speaking he thought of the _andante +appassionato_ comparison. Music always--she was that to him. + +"Uncharted seas!" she repeated. "They've always lured me. I felt the +call, but couldn't understand it until I read a tale several years ago. +'The White Waterfall' it was called. It seemed to open magic doors. +After that, 'Treasure Island' again, and 'She.' Stevenson, Kipling, +Conrad and Haggard--they are the masters that taught me the doctrine of +Romance and Adventure. Oh, I've always wanted a crowded +hour--excitement--the sting of winds not in books! I think after one +excursion into the reality I'd be willing to settle back into my +peaceful alcove of imaginings. Then I'd have food for my +fancies--something to remember in the quiet that followed. Don't you +think it would be alluring, in mellower years, to close your eyes and +dream--of wanderings in the 'Caves of Kor'--or the time you spent on a +pirate island?" + +"It's youth," he philosophized to himself. "Youth craving the open +spaces; hours of breathless living!" + +"It would," he said aloud. + +"But perhaps"--her voice sank to a dreamy tempo--"perhaps I'm having my +adventure now." + +(And many days passed before he understood what she really meant by +that.) + +Below them, in the steerage, a snake-charmer--a villainous-looking +fellow with a scar across one cheek and a drooping eyelid--was making +two cobras ripple to the sounds of a reed flageolet. The eerie, +tuneless wails were reminiscent of the previous night when Trent stood +on the same spot and looked below. + +"What would you think, Mr. Tavernake," the girl began, her voice very +solemn, "if you discovered that some one whom you trusted and believed +your friend was secretly striving for the thing you were working for. +Would you call it fair competition?" + +He applied a match to his burnt-out pipe, then regarded her--quite as +intently as she regarded him. + +"Are you making me father-confessor, after all?" + +She laughed, thus ending a very solemn moment. + +"Good heavens, no!... But come, shall we take a walk?" + +They tramped about the ship for nearly an hour; then he established her +comfortably in a deck-chair and sat down at her side. They talked, +mostly frivolously--conversation that only now and then carried a vein +of seriousness. Not until after tiffin (he sat at her table, for she +quite naively suggested that he have the steward change his seat) did +they part, she for her cabin, he for the purser's office, which place he +suddenly remembered as his goal when he came on deck earlier in the day. + +He consulted the passenger-list, lingering over each name in search of +one that might seem likely as that of the person who had directed Guru +Singh's activities. There were thirty-one first-class passengers, the +majority English, with a scattering of Americans; the only Easterns +were, namely, an Indian gentleman (Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh, of Calcutta +University, his signature read), a Japanese and Hsien Sgam. Of the +group only one seemed likely, and he by virtue of his name and +nationality--Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh. + +Trent then sought the captain and after a short conversation (during +which he made a request that seemed rather extraordinary to the master +of the _Manchester_) he visited the imprisoned Guru Singh. Abuses, +threats, even promises of clemency, brought forth only: "I am an honest +man, Sahib!" + +His next move was to visit the steerage. A naked child with a ring in +its nose begged for a gift; brown bodies lay asleep on mats; the cobras +were still performing for the wicked-looking juggler. Stupid, +unintelligent faces.... + +On the fore-deck a dark-skinned gentleman in European clothing was +talking with the clergyman to whom the Mongol had expressed his beliefs +the previous night. The former, Trent guessed, was Dr. Dhan Gopal Singh. +One glance eliminated him as a suspect. + + +5 + +Toward dusk the captain of the ship approached Trent in his deck-chair. + +"One of my men searched the steerage," he said, "and there wasn't a sign +of the ornament you described." Then politely, if not a little +curiously, "Was it of--er--particular value?" + +"It had its significance," was Trent's meager reply. + +"It's quite distressing, quite, to have thieves aboard. But in these +waters.... Is there anything else I can do for you?" + +There wasn't. And Trent went to his cabin to shave. + +After dinner he and Dana Charteris walked another mile around the +vessel; stood for some time in the bow, watching the flying-fish skim +the glassy undulations in greenish, phosphorescent flashes; sat in their +deck-chairs in the shadow of a looming cabin (and the spell of low-hung +Oriental stars) and talked of inconsequentials. + +For some time after she left, he sat sunken in cavernous absorption. He +was aroused by a voice close by--a quiet familiar voice that asked if it +were not a rare night. He turned to see a tall figure near his chair. +Starlight dwelt on even mobile features, a high forehead, slender hands +and eyes that looked inquisitively into his. + +He answered that it was indeed a rare night. Whereupon Hsien Sgam +politely enquired if he might occupy the chair next to Trent's. As he +moved, the Englishman noticed that he slued slightly to the left--saw +the twisted limb. The Mongol lit a cigarette. The flare of the match +brought his face into ruddy prominence. In that brief moment Trent felt +that ancient wickedness, refined to an exquisite degree, looked at him +from beneath the bronze lids; then the match died and Hsien Sgam spoke +in his quiet cultured voice, and Trent realized to what fantastic +borders imagination can extend. + +The Oriental asked perfunctorily if Trent intended to remain long in +Rangoon, and ventured that it was a very quaint city; and, quite as +perfunctorily, Trent responded that he wasn't sure how long he'd be in +Rangoon, and that from all he'd heard it must be very quaint. +Conversation threatened to pursue a dull course until Trent opened the +subject of the political situation in Mongolia. + +"Ah, Mongolia!" Hsien Sgam drew a deep breath. "It is there as it is +elsewhere in the East. The Holy Lands, as you call them, are +dead--sterile as eunuchs. Ghandi preaches--is _Swaraj_ the word?--in +India; China is locked in inner convulsions; Japan is a dragon with fire +in its nostrils; Korea and Manchuria are but manikins that act as Tokyo +directs; Siam, Indo-China, Malaya and Burma are the only peaceful +spheres, and their people are children, thoughtless children. Asia has +red wrath in her bowels. I am afraid for her. But Mongolia--you asked +about Mongolia?... + +"The world moves in cycles," the Easterner continued. "It is the +inexorable law. Asia was at its--er--pinnacle about twelve hundred and +twenty-seven; then Europe. Europe is dipping; next America--and after +that?" The slender hands shaped into an oddly expressive gesture. "The +failure of Sultan Baber was the beginning of a slow death for my +country. Now there seems but one future--that of a base from which Japan +can operate in Asia. Japan must have food, too, and already the +Szechuanese and other border people have pressed into Mongolia and +proved it fertile. And we have unworked mineral resources...." + +"But Japan is apparently retrenching in her policy," Trent reminded him, +finding himself interested. "What of the Allied Consortium?" + +He imagined he could see a smile upon the Mongol's face. + +"The Consortium is--forgive me--a bubble, a beautiful bubble with magic +prisms and exquisite tints. Japan will see to it that loans to China are +made as she wishes them." + +"Japan improved Korea"--thus baiting conversation. + +The reply came quietly, but vehemently. "Yes, my friend, Japan improved +Korea. She scientifically reforested its mountains, built roads and +railways, public buildings and sanitary houses.... But Japan slew soul +to erect in its stead a structure without conscience or heart. Japan may +improve China--but it is not for China, but for the time when Japan +controls China and compels her four hundred millions to form a unit of +her military organization." + +Quiet ensued for a space. The myriad sounds that brew in the bowels of a +vessel came to them--the jangle of bells, smothered by decks, and the +ponderous, deep-throated roar of funnels. + +"An example of Japan's purpose and her power is the cancellation of +Mongolian autonomy," pursued Hsien Sgam. "When my people formed a +government of their own, they expected the protection of Russia. But +Russia failed. Semenov, the Cossack adventurer and agent of Japan, +threatened invasion, and my people, frightened, appealed to China. The +consequences you know. Hsu Shu-cheng, with four thousand troops, +occupied Urga. Hsu forced the Hut'ukt'u to sign a petition returning +Mongolia to China. Later it was learned that Hsu's troops were equipped +with Japanese money." + +Trent settled deeper in his chair, his eyes lifted to the roaring +funnels where volumes of smoke were sucked up as by invisible vacua. + +"But there is a key to supremacy in Mongolia," Hsien Sgam resumed. "It +is the projected extension of the railway from Kalgan to Kiachta. +Whoever finances that, thus linking China with Europe, through Mongolia, +will be the sovereign power. Will Japan--or your Allied Consortium? I +think, my friend, the former--unless it is prevented. And how can that +be done?" + +Trent took him up. "How?" + +Hsien Sgam did not answer immediately. Finally: + +"Mongolia can assert her rights--by force." + +Trent lowered his eyes to the indistinct outline of the Mongol's face. + +"She hasn't arms or ammunition or organization--and, furthermore, what +good would a revolution do?" + +Hsien Sgam answered the latter half of his question. + +"It would give Mongolia self-government; and she could refuse a +concession to any power to construct a railway through her territory. +Organization? You spoke of that. No, they have no organization. But I +have a dream--an ultimate--do you say Utopia? It is a union of the +Mongols of Barga, the Buriats of Transbaikalia, the Chakhar tribe, the +Khalkas, and even the Hung-hu-tzees, into a single unit--or, if you wish +it, an empire. Tibet might be included. But that--that is only a dream. +There is but one man who could possibly bring that about--and he is a +pawn of China. The Dalai Lama...." + +In the pause that followed, the glow of his cigarette showed Trent an +imperial profile--like a bronze head of some Mongol conqueror he had +once seen. A queer analogy struck him. Timur the Lame, who seared Asia +with his vitriol. But there was an alien element in the likeness that he +conjured--dust on the reflection. It haunted Trent and eluded analysis. + +"The Church dominates Mongolia," the quiet voice went on, "and the Dalai +Lama is its--how do you say it, Pope? He lost much power when the +English drove him from Lhassa, but after years of wandering he came into +his pontificate again. However, the President of China had a purpose in +restoring him. He knew the power of Tubdan Gyatso--knew also that he +would be safer in Tibet than Mongolia." + +They smoked on. Presently Trent asked other questions, about customs and +people and history. The subject swung to literature. Hsien Sgam talked +at random of Chinese philosophers and poets: Confucius, Mencius, Lao +Tzu, Yang Chu, Kang-hsi. There were giant dimensions of mentality behind +his speech. Every word was surcharged with restless energy; thoughts hot +from the vortices of emotion. But, underneath, was a current of +bitterness that surged up at intervals and injected into his usual calm +a passionate, almost terrible, intensity. It was more evident when he +referred to his affliction. + +"My father, who was a prince of the house of Hlaje Khan, believed that +one of his sons should be sent into your world and acquire learning and +enlighten the people," he said. "I, being lame and never entering into +physical activities, was considered a student--and I was sent. Among the +elders it was looked upon as an honor, but those with whom I played as a +boy and grew up.... Well, in Mongolia, as elsewhere, virtue is in muscle +and cowardice in morality. I went into your world and--I say this with +no meanness--it hurt me. I took back wounds. Many things I was taught, +among them a realization of the truth of a certain Manchu proverb about +women. Yes--I wonder, my friend, why I tell you this, but perhaps it is +the night and the sea--a woman entered my life for the first time--a +woman who came as a leopard and left the mark of her claws." + +As he talked on, unfolding with a readiness that puzzled yet did not +fail to interest Trent, the latter closed his eyes and smoked, and +imagined he was transported, through some reversed medium of +metempsychosis, across a dead interval of time and was listening to the +voice of Timur the Lame. The stars drowsed above them, like sleepy eyes, +and the ship was a dim, prowling world when they parted. + +As Trent undressed he reflected upon the conversation with Hsien Sgam. +He felt that he had looked upon a tragic anomaly in the person of the +lame Mongol. Learning had refined his primitive impulses to a higher +degree of intellectuality; affliction had warped his vision. +Civilization, with him, was a varnish; he did not possess its essence. +In a day less modern, when men were not so well equipped to kill one +another, he might have risen to formidability; now, Trent felt, he could +go no further than that group of idealistic radicals whose careers are +meteoric, attaining little political significance and ending in the +pathetic justice of a firing squad. + +He wondered, too, if the encounter on deck was coincidence, or if Hsien +Sgam had deliberately sought him. The Mongol would bear watching, he +decided, simply for the reason that his own position was one of +insecurity and tampering fingers might send it toppling. + +Until he went to sleep the memory of Hsien Sgam haunted him, like the +shadow of Timur the Lame cast down through the centuries. + + +6 + +Morning and another day of peacock-blue and gold. + +After breakfast Trent visited the confined Guru Singh. The native was no +more communicative than before but Trent did not press his point, for a +better plan than blatant questioning had asserted itself. + +When he returned to the deck he found Dana Charteris stretched out in +her chair, her slim person a symphony in white. + +"Good morning," was her greeting as she motioned him into the chair +beside her. "I reached a very definite decision last night." + +He smiled. _Andantino con languore_ this time. There was a refreshing +draught in the mood that he instantly felt--light, golden wine to the +senses. Her eyes were like liquid amber. + +"Really?" + +"Yes. I used to think that all Englishmen were cold-mannered creatures +and quite indifferent to their wives, as fiction has it. I've undergone +a metamorphosis." + +He continued to smile as he packed his pipe. + +"Are you accusing us as a nation of polygamous practices?" he asked. + +She made a grimace. "Please don't try to be clever or you'll spoil my +opinion--and you know countries are judged by single representatives. I +warn you that I'm in a desperately serious mood, despite all +indications. As proof, I've been wondering if too much travel, too long +a sojourn in foreign lands, doesn't affect one's ideas and +philosophies--in other words, intoxicate one and leave a craving for the +wine of exotic environment." + +He contemplated the possibility that her remark was intended as +personal; dismissed it; waited for her to continue. Which she did. + +"Since you won't be human and ask why I think that, you force me to +confess that I'm leading up to a--a personal example." + +"Namely?" + +"Well--yourself." + +Another smile; he lighted his pipe. "Go on." + +"Really, would you be satisfied in a prosaic English or American +city--after--all this?"--with a vague gesture. + +He didn't know; hadn't thought about it. Perhaps--perhaps not. + +"I don't believe you would," was her opinion. "You've absorbed a certain +amount of atmosphere that has poisoned you in so far as living elsewhere +is concerned. I shouldn't be at all surprised, either, to learn that you +think Indian and Chinese religions superior to ours?" + +"Aren't they?" + +"Are they?" + +"You, yourself, spoke a few days ago, if I remember correctly, of the +philosophies and doctrines of the East--doctrines that have nothing to +do with mints or stock-exchanges, as you expressed it." + +"Yes. But now I'm comparing the principles of religion--those adopted by +our thinkers and real philosophers. Oh, we have our nobler types, who +haven't been blinded by earth-dust! It may be a taint of the flesh in +me, but I can't adjust myself to the belief that the ascetics and +shrivelled yogis that I've seen are the proper habitations for pure +spirituality. If the manifestation isn't wholesome, how can the inner +conception be? You wouldn't fill an unclean vessel with holy water, +would you? It's the methods and instruments through which the East +voices its philosophies that I rebel against. That which mutilates, or +even neglects, the body, can't be a true religion.... But really, I'm +afraid I'm getting beyond my depth. What I originally intended to say is +this: occultism is dangerous to those of the West, minds and bodies of a +different substance than those of the Orient. I knew a man who became +interested in theosophy. After a time he entered some secret cult that +had a temple in the Himalayas. It grew to be an obsession, and now ... +well, he tried to touch flames that were not conceived for man-tampering +and they seared him." + +Trent chuckled. "In other words," he said, "you're afraid I'm a Buddhist +or a Mohammedan at heart, or, if by good fortune I'm not, you wish to +warn me against exotic religions." Another chuckle. "It's flattering. +What other conclusions have you drawn?" + +"Just at present," she responded, smiling maliciously, "I think you're +horrid." + +He sobered. "Please go on. It's like looking into your house from the +neighbor's window. I'm really interested." + +"Or curious? Men who have not ventured into matrimony are, as a rule, +inquisitive. And that suggests another question. It seems to me that one +alone would be much more receptive to these"--she smiled--"these +paganisms than one in union with another. Loneliness--that is, +isolation--is food for heresies." + +That showed him an old vista at a new angle. There was no +misinterpreting her meaning.... Women. A few, but none of consequence; +puerile passions and brief affairs of the starlight, never the full +ruddy glow of a riper devotion, the finding of the One Woman.... And +again, that might not have been her meaning at all. She--At a sudden +inspiration he spoke--before he considered. + +"Why, no, I'm not married, if that's what you mean." + +She gave him a queer look--half smiling, half vexed. There was a faint +suffusion of color in her cheeks. + +"I'm not quite sure," she announced, swinging her feet to the deck, "but +I've almost decided that you're impossible. However, I'll leave you +alone to decide for yourself." + +And she did. + + +7 + +At dinner Trent sensed a change in Dana Charteris. She was quite +friendly, even inquired banteringly if he were angry because of the +manner in which she left him that morning, but there was, invisible, +indefinable, a reserve in her attitude that forbade a resumption of the +former intimacy. This troubled him. + +Later, on deck, he was brought out of his reflections by the sound of +uneven footsteps. Hsien Sgam approached. He was dressed in white and +seemed to Trent almost grotesque--the twisted limb and the beautiful, +yet strangely sinister, face! + +In the course of conversation he asked Trent's business. The answer +brought forth a short discourse upon precious stones. He then touched +the war--inquired if Trent had "seen service," as he termed it in a +thoroughly Occidental way. Realizing that he was being catechized, Trent +replied guardedly. In the East, quizzed the Mongol? No, on the Western +front, Trent lied. In the infantry, Hsien Sgam assumed? Yes, the +infantry.... + +Of course Trent had traveled a great deal, he presumed. Well, a bit, the +Englishman admitted. If it were not too impertinent (thus the Mongol) he +imagined Mr. Tavernake had not always been "of the trade." He had the +appearance of--well, a soldier rather than a "business man"; one eager +for ranges and color and action, so to speak. + +It was then that Trent became more communicative. He was rather a +soldier of fortune, he acknowledged; intrigue lured him. But the Mongol +was as wary as he, for, perceiving the change in tactics, he turned the +talk into another channel. + +A few minutes later he moved on. Trent watched him limp off and puzzled +over this anomaly of a man. What was his object in catechizing him? He +could not even surmise; but he determined to take a drastic step toward +finding out. + +His first move led him to the purser's office. Closing the door quietly +behind him, he said: + +"I would like to borrow your pass-key a moment." + +"Sorry, sir," came the polite reply, "but it's against orders. I can +unlock your door--if you've lost the key--but--" + +"Suppose you call the captain," Trent suggested. + +"Tell him Mr. Tavernake wants to borrow the key. I'll be responsible for +it." + +While the purser was telephoning, Trent scanned the register. "Hsien +Sgam--No. 227," he read. + +"It's all right, sir," reported the purser, hanging up the receiver, a +new note of respect in his voice. + +Trent circled the deck, assured himself that Hsien Sgam was in the +smoking-room, then went aft to cabin No. 227. A turn of the key, a +glance behind into the vestibule-way, and he was inside. He locked the +door; drew the curtain across the window. + +A thorough search gained him little knowledge. Only clothing and a +hand-grip containing perfunctory toilet articles; there were no letters, +not even a passport. Evidently the Mongol carried all papers of +importance upon his person. + +Hardly assured, yet satisfied to a degree, Trent returned the key to the +purser and made his way toward his cabin--and as he rounded a corner of +the deckhouse he almost collided with Dana Charteris. She backed, half +in surprise, half in fright, to the rail, and gripped the white enameled +iron. + +"Oh!" she flared. "You _do_ appear at the most inopportune times!" + +And she stalked past him, entering the cabin before he could recover +himself enough to speak. + +Perplexed, he continued to his state-room. "Inopportune, indeed," he +muttered as he closed the door--for as she darted to the rail he saw her +fling something overboard, an object that flashed white as it shot past +the scuppers. + +He sat down on the edge of the berth; filled his pipe. + +What was she carrying that she did not want him to see? It could not +have been of value or she would not have disposed of it in that manner. +But.... + +He ran his fingers through his hair; puffed on his pipe. + +Was it possible--? No, the very suspicion was preposterous; he was +surprised that it should even occur to him. Yet, he acknowledged, a +certain king of Ithaca believed in the beauty of Calypso. Forcing +himself to face the situation, he reviewed his short acquaintance with +Dana Charteris in a cold, scrutinizing light. The result was not +altogether pleasing. Their midnight encounter on the portico at Benares +was hardly reassuring, now that he looked at it through a different +lens, nor was the meeting in the Chinese quarter, in Calcutta.... +_Intermezzo!_ Would it end in discord? He smiled grimly, confessing to +himself that grave doubts (and, deeper than doubts, an ache that was not +physical) had arisen from this new development. Had he been a fool? + +He fortified his mind against such thoughts. What substantial reason had +he to suspect that her interest in him was other than personal? +(Personal! That word was fine ego.) The incident on deck--Well, he +evaded, it might have been anything that she threw overboard, a +handkerchief ... or.... At least, he would not be so unjust as to +suspicion her--or anyone, he enlarged--upon such meager suppositions. + +Only partially satisfied, he retired. He did not go to sleep for some +time--and when he awakened in the morning, with the sun raining bronze +needles at the blue sea, his first recollection was of the incident on +the previous night. Considered in daylight, it lost its dark +significance, but, nevertheless, made him vaguely uneasy. + +This brooding discontent grew with the day. Dana Charteris was not in +the dining-salon at breakfast, nor did she come on deck during the +morning. He sat near her chair, waiting, his mind barred against either +condemnation or justification. He would reserve his decision until he +heard what she had to say. When she appeared (and it seemed that she +never would) she could probably clear the incident with a few words, an +explanation that would no doubt shed a light of absurdity upon his +apprehensions. + +But she did not appear, not even at tiffin, and he passed a restless +afternoon. He walked the vessel from bow to stern, from bridge to the +torrid depths where beings heaved fuel into her hungry stomach, +impatient with the unseen forces that controlled his affairs. + +He saw Hsien Sgam several times, but avoided him, for his mood was not a +friendly one. A short interview with Guru Singh--who clung to the +integrity of his honor--only served to irritate him, and a few minutes +later when he came upon Tambusami, in the steerage, confabbing with the +snake-charmer (he of the scar and the drooping eyelid) he snapped him +up in his laconic way for having removed the dressing from his cut. + +(And it would not have improved his mental estate had he seen the manner +in which the snake-charmer's afflicted eye watched him leave the +steerage.) + +The sun sank. Its sullen crimson bled upon cirrus clouds; faded with +dusk; was absorbed as night bound the sky with gauzy blue and stars came +forth to cool the fevered pulse of day. + +Trent had just taken his seat in the dining-salon when Dana Charteris +entered. White shoulders rose above the silver-cloth and flame-blue +tulle of an evening frock. The startling shade of blue challenged out +the deeper tints of her eyes; her pallor was made more lustrous by red +lips and russet-gold hair. At sight of her he felt the blood throb in +his throat. + +"I hope you haven't been ill," he said as he placed her chair. + +She smiled in a rather strained manner, he thought. + +"I've been a poor sailor to-day." + +A pause; then he plunged. "I should like to have a word with +you--alone." + +She met his gaze unsmilingly. For a moment he thought she would refuse. + +"There's to be a dance to-night--you knew it?" He shook his head. +"Suppose I give you--the third?" + +"I'd prefer not to dance," he returned solemnly. + +"Then we'll go on deck." + + +8 + +The night was blue and moonless; no ordinary blue, but the clear, rich +shade found in the depths of a sapphire, and it poured out as from an +invisible fountain, blending the sky and sea; it caught a thousand stars +in its flood and they, like diamonds cast into an unstirred pool, pulsed +with lazy insolence above the oily swells. + +Trent, leaning on the port rail, pipe between his teeth, heard the +throbbing violins cease. He straightened up sharply. There was a patter +of applause from the main salon; an encore. He knocked the dottle from +his pipe and sauntered nearer the doorway; there he waited impatiently +for the encore to end. + +Once more the violins ceased; a ripple of applause. But the music did +not resume. Several couples emerged from the salon. Dana Charteris +appeared as Trent was within several paces of the door; paused a moment +in the frame, her hair glimmering in the brazen light. Then she saw him; +joined him. + +"Shall we walk?" she asked. He thought there was a tremor in her voice. + +"Yes." + +Their mutual inclination led them toward the fore-deck. In the bow, +beyond a monster coil of rope, they halted as with one accord. He stood +looking out over the blue-black sea; she backward, across decks, at the +huge funnels where smoke piled upward into darkness. + +"Miss Charteris," he began, quite calmly, "I daresay you know why I +asked for a word with you." + +She was still watching the smoke. "I daresay I do," she replied, not so +calmly. + +He went on. + +"I'm going to be frank--even abrupt. Will you tell me what you threw +overboard last night?" + +Silence followed. The big ship throbbed, but it seemed far away, part of +another world; in his sphere there was but the girl, himself and the +stars. He thought he saw her shiver--although it was not chilly. + +Finally she spoke. + +"Before I answer, there's something I must say. You are frank; I, too, +will be frank." Her eyes shifted to his face. "I feel sure you're aware +that I am not so stupid as to believe your name is Tavernake--or that +you are a--a jeweller. Furthermore, you know I saw you in uniform in +Benares. Your story about the brother was--rather flat." She smiled +faintly. "I'm no child, Mr.--yes, I'll continue to call you Tavernake. I +have imagination; I have guessed you are engaged in some sort of +important work--work that you must not be distracted from. At first, I +didn't care--particularly--or perhaps I was weak. So I let myself drift +along. It's so easy to drift, isn't it?" + +A new tone had come into her voice; a softer, more poignant quality. It +carried to him a lofty exhilaration. He knew it was dangerous, yet, for +the while, it thrilled him. The looming masts beyond the coil of rope +were transformed, in his eyes, into the enchanted rigging of a dream +ship. + +"... So I took the easiest course--because I found you interesting. Then +it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I was interfering with your +duty. I knew I must stop. I resolved to--to end our friendship as easily +as possible, without hurting you--or me. I hoped, after my outburst last +night, you wouldn't try to see me again; that you'd be angry." + +She smiled; let her hand rest lightly, he knew unconsciously, upon his +arm. + +"You understand? To-day I was--well, afraid of you and of myself. I had +my meals served in my state-room. But I realized I had acted in a way +that would seem strange to you; so I came out to-night to explain. If I +give you my word that what I did last night is of no consequence to you, +will you spare me the embarrassment of explaining? It _will_ be +embarrassing, Mr. Tavernake, very. Yet it was such a small incident!" + +Her hand slipped from his arm; she lowered her eyes. Trent, watching +her, felt that at last he had explored to the inner shrine of that +arcanum in her eyes. He saw altar-flames there. + +"Don't you think it wise," she resumed, looking up, "that we discontinue +our association--not our friendship--now, to-night? To-morrow, in +Rangoon...." + +Her voice died out in silence. They were quite alone, there in the bow, +lifted, so it seemed, into a realm of blue starlight. Her face swam in +the shadow, very close to his own. He obeyed an impulse. He took her in +his arms; kissed her. Her eyes were closed, but an instant later the +lids lifted. What he saw was not rebuke, but surprise, astonishment. +Vaguely, from that other world, came the strains of music. It seemed an +endless period before she spoke. + +"I--I have this dance...." + +She turned; paused, as if to speak; disappeared behind the coil of rope. + +Trent did not stir for some time. Then it was to draw out his pipe. He +lighted it calmly; inhaled the smoke. For at least a half hour he stood +there, the wind in his face, smoking steadily. When he left the bow and +moved aft to walk, to accelerate his brain, a figure emerged from the +door of the smoking-room and joined him. A figure that limped, that fell +in with Trent. + +"I have been looking for you," the Mongol announced. + +Trent smiled an amiable contradiction of his real feelings. + +"Shall we sit down?" He halted. + +"No. I merely wish a moment of your time to explain my actions of last +night, and to ask a question." + +The orchestra was playing, and the music came as a bitter-sweet reminder +to Trent. + +"Well?" and the word was almost abrupt. + +"I presume you think me very inquisitive"--Hsien Sgam's eyes were upon +him, watching him closely--"and I have been. But I had a purpose. I +wished to sound you, as they say in America; to find out if your +business connections were permanent, and--well, other things, too." + +Silence followed. + +"Suppose," the Mongol resumed, "I were to say that plans for such +a--you recall what we discussed the other evening? Well, suppose I were +to say I spoke the truth: that there is a possibility of my dream +crystallizing into reality; also that we need men who have had military +experience, who can command. Soldiers of fortune, as it were, to cast +their lots with a worthy cause...." + +Trent's eyes evenly met his. He smiled, very slightly. + +"Are you--making an offer?" he asked quietly. + +Another silence. Then Hsien Sgam laughed. + +"Perhaps I am; perhaps I am not. But if you are interested, go to the +House of the Golden Joss, in Rangoon, to-morrow night. I will be there." + +And with that he limped off and vanished in the door of the +smoking-room. + +Trent stared after him. Presently he laughed, without humor. + +Of a certainty, he told himself, there was madness in the night. + + +9 + +The _Manchester_ swung into the Rangoon River some twenty hours late. +Trent, who had risen early, saw the dome of the Shwe Dagon in the dawn, +like a rippling flame against the purple haze. Before the ship dropped +anchor, he sought the captain. + +"I've decided not to press charges against the fellow confined below," +he announced. "Let him go--but not until a half hour after we come to +anchor." + +The captain, his eyes following Trent's receding shoulders, reflected +that he'd see the blighter in blazing hades before he'd let him off so +easily. But, not being clairvoyant, he could not know that Trent had a +few minutes before issued certain specific instructions to Tambusami. + +Later, after Trent had concluded with the tiresome customs details, he +saw Dana Charteris. She was preparing to go ashore. She wore the black +hat with the sheaf of cornflowers and wheat about the crown, and her +face, shadowed by the wide brim, had the pallor of ivory. + +"I suppose I ought to say something," he began, halting in front of her, +"but I don't know whether I want to ask your forgiveness for what +occurred last night." + +It was a strained moment, for both were painfully conscious. She averted +her face. + +"Perhaps," she suggested, "it would be better to say--nothing." + +Then she looked at him; smiled; extended her hand. + +Not until she was gone, a creature of white and russet-gold in the +sunshine, did he remember that he did not know her address. This +realization brought a new and enveloping sense of isolation.... +Interlude! And this was the end--_andante dolento_! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VERMILION ROOM + + +Sunset, like the wings of a giant golden moth, quivered in the sky and +beat gently against the city, stirring from the earth a film of dust +that, illuminated by the lingering glow, hung in the air like yellow +pollen. Gold was the sovereign tone of every quarter. In the Shwe Dagon +numerous Buddhas smiled at the vain splendor of goldleaf and +gold-fretted spires; Victoria Lake, on whose banks social Rangoon had +gathered to cool after a stifling day, lay like a gold-chased platter; +along the riverfront, dull brown water, shot with glinting ripples, +swirled and eddied beneath quayside godowns, and in the adjacent bazaars +a concourse of native life moved against a background of gold-lettered +signs and gilt-painted shops. + +This golden dust-haze enveloped the bungalow in Prome Road where Dana +Charteris was packing a suitcase; floated through the window of a house +near the waterfront where Hsien Sgam sat talking to another Oriental; +irradiated the interior of the tramcar that carried Tambusami toward the +commercial town; and glowed in a luminous cloud about a veranda of the +Strand Hotel where Trent, lounging in a wicker chair, engaged in an +occupation that might have cast some slight reflection upon the morale +of the British Army. + +Immediately after reaching the hotel from the steamer he had inquired +about the train schedule, and was informed that to make the best +connection at Mandalay for Myitkyina he should leave Rangoon on the noon +train, reaching Mandalay at nightfall. From there, he was told, +Myitkyina was a matter of twenty-four hours. Trent decided to remain in +Rangoon until the next day; for he intended to explore the mysteries of +the House of the Golden Joss. Having settled the time for his departure, +he gave himself over to an inspection of the city. After tiffin he +visited the bazaars, purchased a small leather-bound volume by Shway Yoe +at a shop in Merchant Street, and now sat on the veranda of the Strand, +waiting for Tambusami, whom he had not seen since he came ashore. + +It was growing too dark to read, and he slipped the book into a pocket +of his silk suit, transferring his attention to the variety of +head-dresses that passed in the roadway. Pith helmets, felt Bangkok +hats, Chinese skull-caps, loosely-knotted Burmese scarfs, and turbans of +all sizes.... Darkness fell and street-lamps glowed into being before he +abandoned his watch and went to dinner. + +After the meal he returned to the veranda--and met a smiling, +bespectacled Tambusami in the doorway. + +"_Burra salaam_, O Presence!" was the native's greeting. "Was the +Presence beginning to believe I had been swallowed up by this strange +city?" + +Trent drew him into one corner and sat down. + +"Well?"--as he lighted his pipe. + +Tambusami, after a wary look about him, made a gesture. + +"I did as you directed, Presence," he began. "I waited until that filthy +Mohammedan louse left the ship, and followed. Louse indeed, for he went +to a place of stinks that would poison other than vermin! Fish and +onions, Presence! He put such corruption into his belly! From there he +walked about several streets that are as filthy as that stink-hole of a +restaurant, then took a tramcar. He sat in front, I in the rear. + +"At the pagoda, the great pagoda"--meaning, Trent knew, the Shwe +Dagon--"he got off and defiled it with his presence. He went up to the +top, where there is a great bell, Presence, and many images of the Lord +Gaudama. Even the dogs in the stalls snarled at him! After he had +tainted the upper platform with his presence, he returned to the bazaars +below. There at the foot of the steps he waited, while I hid in the +shadows above. Finally the one for whom he waited came--a Memsahib." + +Trent's lips pressed into a thin line. + +"A Memsahib," Tambusami went on. "She wore a veil and I could not see +her face. She was dressed in white." + +"Did you notice the color of her hair?" Trent cut in. + +"No, Presence; the veil was heavy. But I saw a bracelet--oh, a very +beautiful bracelet! It was gold and had a cobra upon it--a king-cobra, +with hood lifted!" + +If this announcement was startling to Trent, he succeeded quite well in +hiding it. He smoked on in silence. + +"I could not hear what they said," continued the native. "They left +almost immediately. She had a gharry waiting in the road. I did not +follow long. Am I a dog that I should run behind until my tongue drips +and I drop dead of heat? When they disappeared, I got on a tramcar. Now +I am here!" + +Trent looked at him closely. "You heard the Memsahib's voice?" + +"Yes, Presence, but not--" + +"It wasn't familiar?" + +"Nay!" + +Trent's fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. + +"You should have followed," was his comment, after a moment. "Since you +didn't, the only thing for you to do is to return to the restaurant. He +may go back to-night." + +Tambusami ceased smiling. "That stink-hole of fish and onions!" he +exclaimed indignantly; then: "Very well--I am a faithful servant of the +Presence!" + +Whereupon he salaamed and departed, quickly losing himself among the +many turbans in the street. + +Trent continued to drum on the arm of his chair. The woman of the +cobra-bracelet! And in Rangoon! That meant she was a passenger on the +_Manchester_. But no, not necessarily. Damn the illusiveness of her! Who +was she, anyway? Sarojini Nanjee? In that event it was likely Tambusami +would have recognized her. Perhaps he did, was his next and +disconcerting thought; perhaps the affair on shipboard was a hoax, a +foil for something deeper; perhaps Tambusami knew this and his story of +the meeting at the pagoda was false. It was queer, he admitted, that +Tambusami didn't hear anything that passed between the two.... But at +least, he told himself, he was free of his perpetual shadow for several +hours; he had not despatched Tambusami to the restaurant because he +believed Guru Singh would return (if he had ever been there), but +because he did not wish his own actions under surveillance that evening. + +Still puzzling over Tambusami's report, he left the hotel. An +involuntary glance behind showed him no familiar face, and he hailed a +cab. (When the temperature is at ninety degrees one does not walk for +pleasure.) The _gharry-wallah_ knew no English--which was not +unusual--and to make himself understood Trent had to solicit the aid of +a Sikh policeman. + +Hsien Sgam was the pivot of his thoughts as he rolled northward along +Strand Road. His interest in the invited interview was almost wholly +personal, for he felt that the Mongol's "revolution" was more a matter +of vain dreaming than reality. Such a movement, unless backed by some +power, could hardly be regarded as formidable. Yet the rebellion in +South China in nineteen-eleven, which brought about the presidency of +Yuan Shih-Kai, must have seemed puny in its first stages. Although +insurrection in Mongolia against China would scarcely affect the +interests of his Government, it was at least worthy of investigation. +There was, as always, the possibility of infection--for the smell of +powder, especially in Eastern lands, is dangerous. It might spread into +Szechuan and Yunnan (there were already ugly symptoms along the banks of +Mother Yangtze) or into Tibet, thus bringing it to the back door of +Burma. And that "back door," he knew, was no small consideration. Since +the occupation of Hkamti Long, the Kachin tribes of the Burmese +hinterland needed but slight pretext to inaugurate trouble. True, they +could be easily put down--"easily," he reflected grimly, meaning troops; +death for hundreds in fever-haunted swamps and in jungles where lurked +innumerable dangers. That was "black" country, up there between India, +Tibet and China; wild people in a wild setting--dwarf Nungs, Black Marus +and Lisus. Yes, they could be quelled, these primitive people, for a +price. All of which, he concluded, was pure romancing. + +He was in a street that ran parallel with the river, a highway where +Burmans, Chinese, Hindus, Madrasees, Tamils, Cingaleese and +Chittagonians mingled in a colorful, reeking democracy unknown to +caste-bound Indian cities. On one side, beyond quays and warehouses, was +the river, its dim expanse flecked with lamps on sampans, junks and +lighters, here and there the white silhouette of an ocean-going vessel +blotting the gloom; on the other, groups of colors that, like parrots, +would seem gaudy and flamboyant in other than their natural setting +shifted upon a background of low, swarth buildings and shops decorated +with imitation lacquer and goldleaf. + +Here was Burma, sleepy gilded Burma, with its quaint kyoungs and +pagodas, its air of vain decay. A siren of the East whose charms are +fast being supplanted by the craft of her less attractive, but more +industrious, sisters. They laughed and smoked, these light-hearted +Burmans, while Chinos and Hindus moved with stealthy intent among +them--grim, silent fellows, as quick in commerce as the Burmans are lazy +and indolent. This was not the quiet of India or China, a boding hush, +but an atmosphere of somnolence and perfect content. + +Thus Trent was musing when he came at length to the House of the Golden +Joss. It was a yellow brick building in a flagged enclosure, its +upcurling eaves and series of roofs, to Trent, strikingly like the +fantastic headgear of a lemon-faced mandarin who looked out with +satisfaction upon the marine highway by which the merchandise of his +sons floated into port. Curious eyes followed the Englishman as he paid +the _gharry-wallah_ and moved up the low stair to the entrance. There, +after a pause, he passed between twin stone dragons; passed from the +twentieth century, so it seemed, into a perished dynasty. + +He found himself in a vast court where the smoke from joss-sticks hung +in clearly defined layers upon the atmosphere. The walls were lacquered +with red and gold; and black-enameled pillars, inscribed with +ideographs, were joined to the beams by filagree dragons. Orange-colored +scrolls, red and gold paper-prayers and blue pottery reflected bizarre +splashes upon glazed floors. The draperies were crimson; great red +lanterns, hanging from the ceiling like captive moons, added to the +scarlet effect. Worshippers of all races and colors knelt before the +altar and numerous small shrines, and the murmur of many voices in twice +as many tongues hummed in the great red temple. + +Trent's interest was instantly claimed by the blue pottery--tall vases, +thin of neck and bellying out as they curved toward rounded bases and +black pedestals. Red walls reflected upon their shiny surfaces. These +vases were relics of China's Imperialists, Trent knew, brought from +Honan or Chili--and his collector's soul flamed. Nor did he fail to +observe the porcelain dragons or the intricate filigree work that +adorned the beams. From these treasures he tore himself and gave his +attention to the people. Mongoloid features, Aryan and Malay. No +familiar face among them. + +He pursued a corridor that led from the main court and completely +circled the building--a dim passageway with many curtained recesses off +from it. At one corner was a restaurant. He could imagine from the +smells the sort of food served within, and he hurried on, returning to +the temple where incense banished the less enticing odors. + +At a light touch on his arm he turned. A gray-clad priest stood at his +side--an emaciated Buddhist. + +"Your name is Tavernake, _thakin_?" he asked in English; then, as Trent +nodded, added: "Come with me." + +Trent was led back along the dim corridor, past the restaurant with its +pungent smells, to a curtained room in the rear. It was evidently a +bedroom, for there was the customary _charpoy_, or bed. Its walls were +vermilion; vermilion portieres hung in the doorway, and a heavy +vermilion curtain defied any air to enter through the one window. It was +close, stifling. The lantern swinging from the ceiling seemed a fiery +ball that radiated heat. + +"His Excellency Hsien Sgam will be here presently," announced the monk; +and Trent did not fail to notice the title. "He begs you to accept the +humble comforts of our hospitality until he arrives." + +Trent's eyes followed the priest. As the vermilion portieres fell +together behind him, rippling gently, like red heat-waves, the last +draught of air seemed banished; the room became oppressive, as though +the lid of hades had been shut, and the odors from the nearby restaurant +did not improve the atmosphere. + +Trent dropped on the edge of the _charpoy_, fanning himself with his hat +and inspecting the room with mild curiosity. He leaned over and drew +aside the window-curtain. A warm current of air breathed upon his face. +Beyond the rectangle was darkness--the back of the flagged enclosure, he +surmised. A faint drone of voices was borne through the +quiet--worshippers in the temple-court. Footsteps padded softly in the +corridor; drew nearer; passed.... Five minutes.... + +Why the devil was Hsien Sgam keeping him waiting, and in this infernally +hot room, he wondered? + +Growing impatient, he rose and paced the floor, not ceasing to fan +himself. Sweat streamed into his eyes, rolled down his body and +moistened his undergarments. His scalp burned and needled with heat. +After a moment he resumed his seat, staring at the motionless vermilion +portieres. Still the hum of voices from the temple; it went on with +maddening persistence. + +"Good God!" he thought, as he mopped his face. "Such heat!" + +He glanced at his wrist-watch. He had been waiting ten minutes. Confound +Hsien Sgam and his revolution! + +Suddenly his eyes were invaded by an alert gleam. That was the only +change in his expression. He let his gaze rove about the room and +continued the restless fanning. But there was something in his attitude, +in the poise of his head, that likened him to a stag suddenly aware of +an alien presence. + +He had seen the vermilion portieres move--very slightly. + +Casually, he lowered his eyes to the bottom of the curtain. Two inches +of gloom separated the hem from the floor, but that was sufficient to +show him the toes of a pair of shoes. As he looked, they drew back--but +not too far for him to still see them. + +He continued to fan himself. Perspiration ran into his eyes and stung +them, and he wiped away the moisture with a damp handkerchief. The heat +seemed to press down, like a burning cushion, and quench his breath. + +The pair of shoes moved closer. Another ripple of the curtains. Then, +above the murmur from the temple, he heard a sound in the corridor--a +_thwack_. Came a quick gasp, a low, sobbing intake of breath. + +Trent got to his feet, swiftly. As he stood erect, the portieres parted +suddenly and a body slued into the room. It swung about drunkenly; went +to its knees; stretched upon the floor. A revolver clattered beside it. +Trent barely had time to see that the body was that of a gray-robed +man--a priest, who had fallen face downward and lay still, with an ugly +blotch between his shoulders--before another figure slipped through the +division of the curtains and thrust forward the muzzle of a revolver. + +Trent halted. A flicker of recollection crossed his brain. The man who +stood outlined against the vermilion hangings was a native clad in dirty +garments; his turban was soiled, his feet bare. As Trent saw the scar +running across one cheek and the drooping eyelid, he recognized the +snake-charmer who crossed the Bay in the steerage of the _Manchester_. + +The fellow grinned impudently, and the expression was reminiscent of +another smile. + +"Turn about!" he ordered softly, in English--excellent English for a +street juggler, as Trent did not fail to notice. "Don't say a word; +don't make a sound!" + +Trent's eyes dropped to the body; lifted questioningly. + +Again the snake-charmer grinned--that impudent, strangely reminiscent +expression. + +"Never mind that now!" he said, and his voice, too, slow and quiet, +seemed vaguely familiar. "If you want to get out of this place whole, do +as I say!" + +Trent turned, facing the window. (And the native did not see the smile +that traced itself upon his face.) Instantly the Englishman felt a +pressure between his shoulders. + +"Now, drop out of the window!" came the whispered command from behind. + +Trent moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside. As he swung over +the sill he caught a glimpse of the juggler's grinning face. The sash +was not more than four feet from the ground, and he discovered that he +was behind the joss-house, in the shadow of a lofty wall. Above were +stars; at one side, further along the wall, a gateway where the glow +from a lighted street fell within. + +"Walk to the gate," was the native's quiet order, as he lowered himself +from the window. "Hail a carriage and get in. I'll be directly behind +you. Don't look around or say a word; if you do...." + +Trent obeyed. He moved slowly, almost carelessly, through the gate and +into the street, where a thin stream of Burmans and Chinese flowed +toward the joss-house. + +It was half a square before he saw a cab; then, in a matter-of-fact way, +he motioned to the _wallah_. As the gharry drew up, the slow, familiar +voice at his side spoke to the driver--in Burmese, Trent imagined. + +The Englishman stepped into the conveyance, showing no surprise when the +juggler got in and sank upon the seat beside him. Nor did he look in the +least amazed, as he should have done, when the native's drooping eyelid +lifted and winked at him in an outrageously familiar manner. He only +smiled--a smile that grew as he commented: + +"You're a downy bird, Kerth." + +Which was not indiscreet, for one may safely assume, in Rangoon, that +his _gharry-wallah_ cannot understand him when he speaks English. + + +2 + +"I've instructed the _wallah_ to drive to your hotel by a longer route," +Euan Kerth drawled, and Trent wondered how he was ever baffled by such a +simple make-up; it was the drooping eyelid, he decided, and the absence +of the waxed mustache. + +"I want time to talk," Kerth explained. "Also, I'll take this +opportunity to return a piece of your property." + +One slender hand emerged from under his clothing and extended an object +that gleamed softly in the semi-dark, an object that caused the blood to +leap into Trent's temples and throb there for a moment of sheer +excitement. + +For it was the silver-chased piece of coral that had twice been stolen +from him. + +"Too, I want to tell you," Kerth went on, "that your pretty cobra friend +lied to you." + +"Sarojini?" + +Kerth nodded. "Most gloriously," he emphasized. "Look inside the +locket--or whatever it is--and you'll see." + +Again Trent felt the blood in his temples. But his hand was calm as he +pressed a fingernail under the rim and opened the pendant. He bent low; +peered intently. He made no exclamation as he saw the name that was +engraved within--but his breathing quickened. He snapped the oval shut +and sat with it gripped in his hand. The blood was still beating in his +temples. + +"As I told you," resumed Kerth, "_Gilbert Leroux_, the name that's +written there, was Chavigny's last alias. Therefore, when Sarojini said +he had nothing to do with the Order, she lied. And if she lied once, +she's likely to do it again. Fact is, I don't trust her. I have a reason +to believe she isn't playing the game just right." + +"Yes?" Trent encouraged, while the name in the pendant sang itself in +his ears with the roll of the carriage wheels. + +"I'll have to be rather personal," was the slow statement; +"embarrassingly so, I fear. Nevertheless, it's better that you know I +know. Before I left Benares I sent a telegram to a friend, the +Commissioner at Jehelumpore--you see, I knew you were stationed there at +one time--asking if he knew whether--whether you and Sarojini +Nanjee--well--" + +He paused. Trent, smiling to himself, said: "Go on." + +"When I reached Calcutta I received a letter from him by special post," +Kerth continued. "He told me the whole story.... That's all. And for +that reason--and because she lied about Chavigny--I believe you should +be wary of her. Balked affection is an unruly mount to straddle, and +when a woman plans to make a fool of a man because he doesn't pay her +any attention, and the man by his wits turns the affair so that _she_ is +the fool--well, I'll say only that she's likely to cause trouble, +especially if she has a Rajput strain in her blood." + +Quiet followed. They rolled on toward the hotel. Trent was the first to +speak. + +"Just how did you do this?"--with a gesture that conveyed more than the +speech. + +In the semi-dark, unobserved, Kerth smiled. + +"Oh, it was easy enough," he drawled. "I determined to have a look at +the instructions you received at Sarojini Nanjee's house, there in +Benares. I didn't quite fancy the way she gave in to your request to +take me along. When we returned to the hotel, I left you for a few +minutes, if you recall. During that time I filled an envelope with blank +paper, then went to your room and while we were talking, under the +pretense of getting a match from your tunic, I exchanged envelopes." + +"And you returned it that night?" Trent put in, with a smile. + +"Yes, I was your nocturnal visitor. I left on an express for Calcutta +that night. When I got there I haunted the environs of the old +mandarin's establishment. The night you called I hid in the court--back +of the house and just behind the room where you two were talking.... Oh, +it was easy enough," he repeated. + +"What about this?" Trent inquired, indicating the pendant. + +"I intended to take a look through your cabin, on general principles, +the first night out--and I happened along just as your servant and that +other fellow staged their shindy outside your state-room. When you went +on deck, I seized the opportunity. I found the pendant under the pillow +and took it because I wanted to study the design--and--well, for other +reasons, too. I didn't discover the Chavigny alias until later." + +"I had the captain search the steerage passengers for it," Trent said. + +Kerth laughed. "I know you did--and I caused an inoffensive, fangless +cobra to go to his Nirvana by hiding the thing in his gullet. I would +have spoken to you on shipboard, but I was afraid of hidden eyes." + +That explained the theft of the pendant on the _Manchester_ (thus Trent +to himself), but who took it the first time, in Benares? Kerth was +evidently ignorant of that. Guru Singh was the key to the riddle, and he +silently cursed himself for having released him. + +"What did you learn about the design?" he pressed on. + +"A little," Kerth returned carelessly. "I spent this afternoon at the +Bernard Library looking up all sorts of deities. The one on the piece of +coral is Janesseron, the Three-eyed God of Thunder--a _Tibetan_ god." +Then, after a pause: "There may be some significance in the fact that +the symbol of the Order is a Tibetan deity, and then, there may not. +I've formed a theory, and unless I'm greatly mistaken, you and I have a +neat little sprint before we reach the so-called City of the Falcon. And +if this city is where I believe it is, why, we.... But I'm anticipating. +Anyway, I haven't the time to pawn off my theories upon you. I simply +wished to let you know I wasn't in Bombay, and to return the piece of +coral." + +Another pause before he ventured: + +"I suppose you're not at liberty to tell me how you came into possession +of that?"--with a motion of his slim hand toward the pendant. + +Trent considered, then replied, "Why, yes." And he told of finding +Manlove in the ruined temple at Gaya. When he had finished, Kerth +whistled softly. + +"So!" he commented. "Chavigny at Gaya--but wait! When did I track him to +the native _serai_ in Delhi?" He was silent for a moment. "It was +Friday," he resumed, "no, Saturday--I remember now. And what day was +Captain Manlove murdered?... Monday--the twentieth? You see, then, that +Chavigny would have had time to reach Gaya; but how in flaming Tophet +did he get out of Delhi? You remember I told you I found blood-stains in +his room at the _serai_.... Hmm. This is a complication. D'ye suppose +Chavigny made a mistake--thought Manlove you? Yet why the deuce should +he want to put you out of the way?" + +A lengthy space of silence followed. Kerth took up the conversation. + +"I haven't the slightest idea why you went to that joss-house to-night; +however, I'm glad I followed and"--he smiled--"saved one of the eyes of +the empire." + +"And I'm rather glad you followed, too"--this from Trent drily. "I +sha'n't forget. I went there to meet a...." Followed a short description +of Hsien Sgam, the Mongol, and an explanation of Trent's purpose at the +House of the Golden Joss. Again, as he finished, Kerth whistled. + +"Complication upon complication! D 'ye suppose he's one of the Order? I +remember seeing him on the boat. What's his object in attempting to +murder you? It's obvious that that was his purpose." + +"I can't somehow adjust him with the Order," returned Trent. "He seems +above that. He's capable of villainy all right--rather exquisite +villainy, I imagine--but I can't associate him with thievery and stolen +jewels.... Did you see the face of the fellow who tried to kill me?" + +Kerth nodded. "It was the priest who took you to that room. Oh, he was +shrewd--or rather, the one who directed him! He had a maxim silencer on +the revolver; and if I had been two seconds later, you would have had a +steel morsel lodged somewhere between your chest and stomach. I didn't +dare waste time to explain there; I was afraid there might be others, +and two white men in a heathen prayer-house would have as much chance as +a pair of bats in hades!" Kerth glanced ahead. "We'll be at your hotel +in a few minutes," he announced, "and your shadow might be there, so I +think I'll make my exit now. I'm leaving Rangoon to-morrow noon, as I +daresay you are, too. I'll manage somehow to see you at Myitkyina." + +He thrust one foot out of the gharry, upon the step, and stood there a +moment, the reflection from passing lamps upon his stained features. He +was smiling his satanic smile--a rather impudent, careless expression. + +"I think I shall pay another visit to the House of the Golden Joss," he +said. "What you have told me of this Hsien Sgam interests me in him. +Good luck, major!" + +With a wave of his hand he swung down and disappeared in the street. + + +3 + +When Trent reached the hotel he found Tambusami waiting, with no news of +Guru Singh, and the Englishman dismissed the native and went to his +room. + +As he undressed, the coral pendant lay upon the table before his eyes +and he stared at it fascinatedly--stared until the coral blended in with +the silver and met his gaze like a monstrous blood-shot orb.... It was +hard to believe that Chavigny was at Gaya, that it was the Frenchman who +murdered Manlove. Chavigny--Gilbert Leroux. What reason had he to kill +Manlove, unless, as he theorized before, the guilty one had been +discovered at the bungalow by his victim and in the ensuing struggle the +latter was stabbed? Or, as Kerth suggested, he might have mistaken +Manlove for Trent, although he could think of no reason why Chavigny +should desire his death. And there was Chatterjee--Chatterjee, who died +with his secrets.... Chavigny at Gaya! It was incredible. Of course the +piece of coral might have been left as false evidence, a blind. But who, +other than a member of the Order of the Falcon, would possess the +ornament, and would a member of that mysterious band have left the +symbol to be found by the police? + +Provided Chavigny was the murderer, would it not be natural for him to +take steps to recover the pendant, once he discovered its loss? Perhaps +it was he who stole it in Benares. But that did not seem likely, in the +light of Guru Singh's actions. For why should Chavigny wish to return +the oval to him? If.... + +Then Trent had an inspiration. Was the attempt to kill him at the House +of the Golden Joss the work of Chavigny? But what of the Buddhist +priest? Chavigny might have bought him; paid him to kill Trent. To go +further, it was possible that Chavigny was on the _Manchester_. +Chavigny, an illusive personality, ever at his heels, like his own +shadow! There was something intriguing in the thought. And it was +plausible--plausible, too, that Chavigny, the notorious Chavigny, was +the Falcon, the head of that nebulous order. + +Theories, Trent concluded--only theories. He locked the pendant in his +trunk and switched off the light. + +As he lay in darkness, while lizards chirruped on the floor and the +ceiling, a sense of cavernous aloneness enveloped him. It thronged with +poignant thoughts. Manlove.... It seemed an age since he stood in the +bungalow at Gaya that last morning. So much had happened since +then--much to distract. Yet always, niched away in the subconscious, was +the hurt, wearing deeper with a bruising force. Trent's nature was +sterile for the average seeds of intimate kinships, but now and +then--not more than half a dozen times in his life--one fell upon +fertile soil. There was something fresh and strong in his association +with Manlove. (An essence thrice sweet in the memory.) Their +personalities seemed to have entered into a mystic communion of +comradeship--a bond not of words nor demonstrations, but feeling. That +was why he felt so keenly the bruise of it. + +Gone, too, was the woman who had materialized from his world-scroll into +intimate palpability, bringing the rich gift of her presence--and +leaving the bitter-sweet pangs of her departure. He would find her +again, for she had fixed herself in the inner-penetralia of his being. +But the period of waiting!... Waiting--love's Gethsemane since the first +simian creatures battled in the wildernesses of a still-hot planet. + +As he lay there, reflecting upon these things, he experienced an ache, a +sensation of isolation, that was reminiscent of his boyhood--of a night +when a shadowy being of antiseptics and sick-room odors roused him from +sleep with the announcement that the man who had fathered him into +existence was no longer in the house. + +It dulled only when a sleepy intoxication came over him, and as he +surrendered to it he visualized, in a dim, hazy way, a falcon, and it +lay in a welter of blood. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +"BEYOND THE MOON" + + +At noon the next day Trent drove to the station where Tambusami, having +attended to his luggage, was waiting. The Englishman looked for Kerth +among the travelers on the platform, but saw no one who even resembled +him. However, he reflected as the train pulled out, Kerth might have +changed his identity and passed within a foot of him without his +knowledge! + +When Pegu lay behind, he shifted his attention from the "Rangoon +Gazette" to the endless panorama of paddy fields and scrub jungle. Yet +he could not altogether divert himself. Invariably the landscape faded, +to be replaced by the recollection of some recent scene: the court of +the joss-house; the ride along Strand Road with Euan Kerth. But more +frequently his mind was possessed with an image of starry luster and +russet hair. The memory of Dana Charteris occurred suddenly, +unexpectedly, in the very midst of other thoughts. She seemed a central +force about which musings, retrospections and quandaries revolved. He +found himself separating from their short association certain incidents +and looking back upon them as through stained glass. He pictured her +under the black and gilt scroll in the Chinese quarter; in the dusk of +the Bengali theater; in the bow of the _Manchester_, beneath the +sprinkled flame of tropic stars. These portraits arranged themselves in +a mosaic--an exquisite inlay of romance. Romance. He clung to the word. +"The doctrine of Romance and Adventure--" She had said that "... in +mellower years, to close your eyes and dream of wandering in the 'Caves +of Kor' or the time you spent on a pirate island." She had the spirit of +youth eternal--youth with its orient mirages. He was having the Great +Adventure now. Soon it would be over. And then? Back to the old +routine--medicines and sun-scorched villages. (The thought was new, +strange. Had he ever been a doctor? It seemed so long ago!) But in the +years to come, at night, over his pipe, he could dream of it all. The +memory of things--that was life's recompense for taking them away. + + * * * * * + +Shortly after seven o'clock he arrived in Mandalay. As he left his +carriage, he saw a familiar figure--Kerth, scar, drooping eyelid and +all; saw him again, an hour and a half later, when he boarded the +Myitkyina train. + +A perceptible coolness invaded the carriage that night, and when Trent +awakened in the morning he looked out upon jade-green hills. The +scenery, as well as the people who stood on the railway platforms, had +changed. Great fern trees and immense clumps of bamboo grew on the +hillsides. + + * * * * * + +Evening was pouring its dusky glamour over the world, and the far, misty +ranges of the China frontier had purpled when Trent left the train at +Myitkyina, the terminus of the Burma Railway. He caught a glimpse of +Kerth hurrying away in the twilight as he despatched Tambusami to the P. +W. D. Inspection Bungalow to see if quarters were available there; and, +after numerous inquiries, took himself into the bazaar, to the shop of +Da-yak, the Tibetan. + +The latter proved to be a languid person with a blue _lungyi_ twisted +about his hips. He inspected Trent with narrow, inky-black eyes, and led +him into a back-room that stank of the hundred nameless odors of the +bazaar. There he glanced lazily, indifferently, at the coral symbol that +the Englishman showed him. + +"We expected you yesterday, _Tajen_," he announced indolently, in +atrocious English; and Trent wondered who the "we" included. "I am +instructed to tell you to go to the Inspection Bungalow and wait. I will +call for you later in the evening; in an hour, perhaps." + +Which concluded the interview. + +Trent decided immediately that Da-yak, the Tibetan, was of no +consequence, merely a mouthpiece. + +He returned to the station, where he had arranged to meet Tambusami. +There he waited for at least fifteen minutes. The native was in a high +state of excitement when he finally arrived. + +"Guru Singh is here, O Presence!" he reported. "I saw him down by the +river. He was in a boat, going upstream. I cried out to him and called +him a liar and a thief, and he told me I was a bastard! The swine! He +knew well I could not get my hands on him!" + +"And you let him get away?" Trent demanded. + +"What could I do, Presence? There was a Gurkha nearby, but I knew the +Presence did not want the police to interfere with his business. Think +you I would have let him go after he called me _that_, could I have +prevented it?" + +Trent wasn't so sure; but he only said: + +"Very well. What about quarters?" + +"All is arranged at the bungalow, Presence." + +Thinking of what Tambusami had told him, Trent left the station, the +native at his heels. He wondered. Did Guru Singh's presence mean that +the woman of the cobra-bracelet was in Myitkyina? + + +2 + +Just about the time Trent reached the P. W. D. Bungalow, a +street-juggler with a scar across one cheek and a drooping eyelid made +his way through the main road of the bazaar. His good eye was very +active--as was the other, for that matter, although less visible to +passers-by--and he swung along with his head cocked at a rakish angle, +pack slung over his shoulder, flashing smiles at the copper-skinned +Kachin and Maru girls. + +Singling out a shop where boiled frogs, sweetmeats and confectionery +were displayed to the mercy of insects, he approached, and, after +purchasing a delectable morsel cooked in _ghee_ (which he deposited in +his pocket instead of his stomach), he announced to the spare Burman who +lounged in the doorway: + +"I go to Bhamo to-morrow, O vender of sweets, and I must take my brother +a present. Canst thou suggest what it shall be?" Then, before the other +could answer, he went on: "I might buy an umbrella--or, better still, a +turban-cloth." + +The Burman came out of his lassitude enough to say that he sold very +beautiful turban-cloth, and much cheaper than any other merchant in the +bazaar. + +"I want a nice one," he of the drooping eyelid asserted; "a white one, +spotted like a cheetah, or perhaps yellow." + +The shopkeeper had none such as he described, he said, but he had some +fine cloth of red hue that came from a shop in Sule Pagoda Street, in +distant Rangoon. + +"Ah!" exclaimed the juggler. "I have been to Rangoon. It is a great +city. Let me see the cloth of red." + +In the course of bargaining, he said: + +"Tell me, O wise one, is there in the bazaar a merchant who bears the +name of Da-yak?" + +The Burman grunted that there was and waved his hand toward a lighted +doorway not far away. "There!" + +"Ah!" exclaimed the juggler again. And he added, by way of explanation, +that at Waingmaw, whence he had come, a friend warned him against buying +at the shop of Da-yak, who was a cheat. + +"All Tibetans are cheats," was the Burman's comment. + +"Has he been here long, robbing you of your trade?" the juggler pursued. + +"Oh, not very long," was the languid answer; "since about the time of +the casting of the bell in the pagoda last year. But his shop is not +half so nice as mine. He is a dirty wild-man." Then: "Didst thou say, O +traveller, that thou wouldst take the turban cloth for six rupees and +two annas?" + +"Nay, I am a poor man. For five rupees, O generous one." + +At length the turban-cloth was purchased, for five rupees, and the +juggler moved on. In front of the shop of Da-yak he paused, looked about +tentatively, then strode to a spot just outside the door. There he +unslung his pack. From a basket he produced a brass pot with a thin +neck. Squatting, back to the wall, he brought forth a flute and began to +play. + +At first the music attracted only children. But before many minutes +girls and men joined the circle about the juggler, and, as the group +enlarged, a sinuous black body rose from the brass pot; rose and dropped +back, like a geyser; rose again and slithered to the ground where it +curled its tail into an O, and, with head lifted, lolled to the +delirious piping. + +"A-ie!" sighed the onlookers with approval--and drew back a step. + +Presently a head was thrust out of the doorway of Da-yak's shop--as the +juggler did not fail to observe--and, following the head, its owner. He +squatted and indifferently watched the proceedings. + +After the cobra had danced, the juggler performed many feats of magic, +to the delight of the simple hill-people. When his repertory was +exhausted, the audience moved on and he found himself alone with the +squatting Tibetan merchant. + +"I am a stranger here, O brother," announced the juggler, pouring the +coins from his bowl into his hands and shifting them from one palm to +the other with a musical _clink-clink_. "Canst thou tell me where I will +find a bed for to-night?" + +In the dim light the juggler studied Da-yak's features--thin lips, high, +thin cheeks, and mere slits for eyes. + +"Thou canst find a bed of grass under any tree," was his reply, covertly +watching the coins. + +"Nay! Am I an animal that I should lie upon the ground when I sleep? +Hast thou no room? I am a story-teller and for a bed I will tell thee a +tale that thou hast never heard before!" + +"Nay, juggler, I have no time for stories." + +"Then thy children?" + +"I have none." + +"Perhaps thy wife?" + +"Nor have I a wife, either." + +The juggler grunted. "Art thou a celibate that thou hast no wife?" He +leaned closer, peering into the Tibetan's face. "Indeed, O merchant, thy +face is like that of a lama I knew in Simla!" + +Da-yak's slitty little eyes opened wider, showing small, bleary pupils. + +"What is it to thee, O scarred one, if I have a wife or not?" + +To himself the juggler admitted that it meant more than a little, but +to the Tibetan he said: "Scarred indeed, and afflicted of an eye! Seest +thou this?"--touching the scar. "It is a mark left by a Dugpa's +knife--in Tibet. I was headman for a Burra Sahib who traveled from +Sikkhim, which is a far country which thou hast never heard of, to the +holy city of Lhassa. From thence we went down, across many mountains, +into Hkamti Long and the Kachin country. At Fort Hertz we followed the +mule-road. That was many years ago." + +"Thou dost lie," accused Da-yak. "No white man has ever crossed from +Tibet into the country of the Hkamtis. There is no road there--" + +"Then where _is_ the road, indeed, if thou dost know?" interrupted the +juggler. + +"Did I say there was a road?" flared the Tibetan. "There is none." + +"There _is_ a road, if a road it can be called! For did not I travel it? +By the Four Truths of Gaudama Siddartha, it is thou who dost lie!" + +Da-yak's eyes burned with anger. "Why dost thou swear by the Lord +Gaudama?" + +Inwardly, the juggler smiled. "Why do rivers run down to the sea, thou +dolt?" he asked--and made a mystic sign, a sign that is known to few. + +Da-yak's eyes were no longer burning. But his inky-black pupils moved +nervously under the lids. + +"Thou dost make strange signs, O evil eye," he muttered. "How do I know +that thou hast not summoned _Nats_ to beset my shop and drive away those +who might buy?" He rose. "Go find a bed in the stink where thou dost +belong!" + +The juggler, too, rose. He spat contemptuously. + +"_Kala Nag!_" he hissed; which means, "black snake." + +And, picking up his pack, he swaggered off--while Da-yak, with an uneasy +glance over his shoulder, entered his shop. However, the juggler did not +go far. In the darkness of a nearby alley, from which point he could +observe anyone going in or out of Da-yak's house, he sat down to wait. +But not for long. Scarcely had five minutes passed before the Tibetan +emerged from the shop and, like a shadowy cinema-figure, hurried off in +the gloom. + +The juggler got up. He smiled--for, figuratively speaking, he possessed +a key to certain locked doors. + + +3 + +Trent was on the veranda, smoking, when Da-yak presented himself at the +Inspection Bungalow, and without a word he rose and accompanied the +Tibetan. + +"We go to the river, _Tajen_," the native informed him briefly. + +A walk past lighted bungalows and well-kept compounds brought them to +the river--the mighty Irrawaddi, flowing down from mountain heights, +past dead kingdoms and into tropical seas. A slim saber of a moon was +swinging up over the hills as they came within sight of the stream. It +showered the water with a wealth of silver coins that collected into a +band, and, shimmering and coruscating, stretched from the remote shore +to the sharply etched Kachin rafts and country-boats beneath the +Myitkyina bank. + +Into one of the smaller boats Da-yak led Trent. Two boatmen, both in +turban, jacket and _lungyi_, stepped lazily into the craft, and one +shoved off while the other crawled forward and plied his paddle, guiding +the boat into midstream and turning its prow with the current. The smell +of the jungle, warm, fragrant odors, hung in the air, and the rhythmic +dip of the paddle, with the sucking sounds produced by the water as it +slapped the sides, only italicized the silence. + +Trent, lounging among cushions amidships, let his eyes follow Da-yak, +who moved forward and took the paddle from the boatman. The latter, with +a murmured word, rose and crawled toward Trent. + +"I would sit beside you, Sahib," he announced in a soft voice. + +Trent stared--and the boatman laughed, a sweet laugh that rippled low in +the throat; laughed, and sank upon the pillows beside the man whose +breathing had grown a trifle faster as he inhaled the perfume of +sandalwood. + +"You are surprised?" asked Sarojini Nanjee, quite pleased with the +effect of her sudden appearance. + +He smiled. "You are clever." + +The woman clasped her hands behind her head and regarded him. The night +made secret certain of her features, for whereas the moon shone full +upon her face, softening the contours, her eyes were hid in dim mystery. +Thus, when she looked at him, (as she was doing every second) he could +not see her eyes. Which seemed to please her, for she lay back upon the +cushions, smiling, an insolently boyish figure. + +"Did not you find Tambusami an excellent bearer?" was her next +query--and he imagined her eyes were mocking him. + +"Quite"--rather drily. + +"Yet he cannot equal your Rawul Din," she went on. "He is a perfect +example of careful tutoring." + +She leaned closer, so close that the warmth of her breath was on his +lips, and her eyes, like black opals, burned near to his. + +"I wonder, man of wits, how many bearers would think to do what your +Rawul Din did, that night at my house?" Then she laughed and drew away; +and the musical peals were reminiscent of shattered crystals. "I +_should_ be angry--for why did you spy upon me?" + +"I don't understand"--this from him. + +"No?"--with irony. "Am I so dull that I do not understand when I find a +pool of wine under a divan? Oh, he was clever, very clever; but I was +more clever!" + +Trent wondered how much she knew. He felt sure she could not have +guessed the truth, for the discovery that Delhi was keeping a finger on +her would undoubtedly have angered her. + +"Surely you would like to know how I came here," she announced. "Why not +inquire?" + +"I was instructed to ask no questions," he reminded. + +She nodded that queer little nod of hers. + +"You obey well--when you wish to. But we have no time now to talk of +the past; suffice to say I come and go like the wind, when and where I +will, and depending upon no man." + +She settled deeper among the cushions and watched him--watched him +half-humorously, as though he belonged to her and she was undecided what +to do with him next. He realized she was waiting for him to speak, that +she wanted to find out what he had learned since their meeting at +Benares. Therefore he resolved to keep silent, not that what he knew was +of any significance, but because uncertainty on her part was his best +weapon. So he drew into his shell and waited. When she could no longer +endure it, she said: + +"Now that you are here, have you no thought of what you are to do?" + +"There's a platitude about anticipation," was his reply. "Preconceived +ideas never are correct." + +"You, of course, suspected Myitkyina was not the end of your journey?" + +"Then it isn't?" + +He could not see her eyes, but he knew she was looking at him closely. + +"Did not his Excellency Li Kwai Kung speak of certain terraces, each a +step toward enlightenment?" + +He nodded. "Is the City of the Falcon the next?" + +"Ultimately," she modified. + +"When do I start--or do _we_?" + +She shook her head. "_You_ start to-morrow." Then, following a pause: +"Previous to this you have been under my direct observation and +protection." That made him smile to himself. "I can no longer do that. +Certain threads will be placed in your hands and you will be left to +untangle them. And it will not be easy. That is why I chose you." + +The boatman had ceased paddling, and they drifted with the current in +silence that was like a presence. Now and then a gibbon called from the +bank; frequently fish leaped above the water, breaking the moon's path +into silver fragments. + +"Oh, it is far from easy!" she continued. "You will pass through a +stretch of country where no Englishman has been. There will be +discomforts--yes, dangers. The jungle knows how to torment white men. +Death in a hundred guises waits for the unwary; death in the poison +swamps, in the bush; death everywhere!" She straightened up, and her +hand closed over his. "There will be times when you will curse me for +having sent you! Yet in the end there is reward! Glory! Honor! Your name +will sweep from one end of the empire to the other!" Then she drew a +sharp breath, for she divined what was in his mind. "You believe I lie? +But I speak the truth, before all the gods! Yonder"--with a wave of her +hand--"beyond the moon, it lies, this city where the Falcon nests with +the treasures of Ind!" + +"You mean the jewels passed through Myitkyina?" he questioned, trying to +speak casually, as though it were a spontaneous query rather than a +studied interrogation. + +"Ah! Did I say so?" she fenced. "Nay! I will not answer that! Perhaps +they did; perhaps they did not." (Trent was more inclined to believe the +latter.) "However, they are there, beyond the moon, and every one shall +be returned, down to the smallest pearl!" + +It sounded rather preposterous to him. How could this thing be +accomplished by two people? Was she playing with him? She'd hardly dare. +She might risk it, were he alone, but with the Government of India +behind him a false move on her part would be her own defeat. Yet he +could not disassociate her from some hidden, not altogether pleasant, +purpose. + +"Aye!" she resumed. "You and I"--and her fingers tightened about his +hand--"shall do what the Secret Service could never do! We shall go +where they could never go! We shall understand things that they could +never understand! We are blessed of the gods, you and I! We shall pluck +the Falcon's pinions; rob his nest. And, oh, it will be a great jest, a +very great jest! If you only knew, you would laugh with me! But not yet. +It would spoil the secret to tell it now." + +"Yet you can tell me now," he suggested, "how far this Falcon's nest +is?" + +She inclined her head. "Yes, I can tell you that now." And her answer +was as fantastic as the city itself: "It is nearly eight hundred miles." + +Inwardly, he started. A moment passed before he spoke. + +"Nearly eight hundred miles," he repeated, picturing as accurately as +possible a map. "Traveling west of Myitkyina that would take us beyond +the Brahmaputra; east, into China--about upper Yunnan or Kweichow; and +north--well, the Tibetan _border_ is three hundred miles from Myitkyina. +Which is it: north, east or west?" + +"Which seems the most likely? In which of the three regions would the +Falcon's nest be in less danger of discovery by blundering British +agents?" + +He had guessed, but he did not wish to commit himself. He deliberately +chose-- + +"Beyond the Brahmaputra?" + +She laughed. "You are no fool. The moment I said nearly eight hundred +miles you knew I meant Tibet." + +He considered for some time. Then: "That's impossible." Subconsciously, +he was thinking of the coral pendant.... Janesseron, a Tibetan god. Nor +had he forgotten what Kerth told him in Rangoon. + +"What is impossible?" + +"Tibet." + +She chose to smile at that. Apparently she enjoyed the astonishment that +he made no effort to conceal. + +"There is a way and a means for everything! Whither goes the elephant +when his time is come? Does man know?" She shrugged. "Oh, it is a +strange planet, this!" + +She drew something white from beneath her jacket--something that +crackled as she unfolded it and spread it upon her knees. The moonlight +showed him the faint tracery of a map. + +"Bend closer," she directed. "See, here is Myitkyina"--her finger rested +on a tiny dot. "Above is the confluence of the Irrawaddi. The Mali-hka +flows northeast, the 'Nmai-hka northwest. You will follow a route in the +triangular space between the two rivers, in a territory where Government +surveyors have never been. At the edge of the Duleng country you cross +the 'Nmai-hka and go eastward to a town across the Chinese border, in +Yunnan. It is called Tali-fang, and is under the administration of a +military governor, the _Tchentai_. Just beyond Tali-fang is the +Yolon-noi Pass into Tibet. And there"--she touched a blank space in +Tibet, in the northwest corner of Kham--"is the City of the Falcon. Its +name is Shingtse-lunpo." + +That conveyed nothing to Trent. But its situation did. In Tibet, between +the sources of the Brahmaputra and the Mekong! It was as incredible as +if she had informed him he was to go to the moon. Her figure of speech +was not amiss--"Beyond the moon." That territory was as nebulous as the +regions of the moon, as weirdly unreal. It was the country toward which +Mohut, the explorer, had striven, which Prince Henri d'Orleans had +skirted. + +"From Myitkyina," he heard Sarojini Nanjee saying, "to Tali-fang, you +will be guided by a Lisu; there will be porters, of course. At Tali-fang +you must call at the _Yamen_ of the _Tchentai_, who will furnish fresh +mules and supplies. There you will also exchange your porters and guide +for Tibetan caravaneers. A passport is necessary to enter +Shingtse-lunpo, but that will be provided. Once inside, you will be upon +your own resources." + +"As whom does the Falcon know me?" he inserted. + +"I am coming to that. He knows you as Tavernake, the jeweler--a +childhood friend of mine. The work he expects you to do is to oversee +the cutting and resetting of the jewels--a work that you will never do. +He will no doubt see you before I do, so guard your tongue. Trust no one +unless he comes in my name and has proof." + +"Then I shall see you there?" + +A nod. "I start to-night, as I must reach Shingtse-lunpo in advance of +you. Oh, as I said, I come and go as the wind, when and where I will, +and depending upon no man! But I do not go as Sarojini Nanjee.... Just +before you reach Tali-fang--it will not be necessary until then--Masein, +your Lisu guide, will help you effect a transformation from a white man +to a Hindu merchant from Mandalay. White skins are not popular in that +region. You speak Hindustani as well as some Hindus, better than others. +Avoid the natives as much as possible, for they are not over-fond of any +one who is not of their race. If asked whither you go, say to a holy +city in Tibet." + +Silence settled for a moment after that. They were more than a mile from +Myitkyina, and the silver coins still glittered and danced in midstream. + +"D'you think," he began at length, "if the Government knew I was going +into Tibet, it would approve?" + +She shrugged. "Why not? It was understood at Delhi that you were to do +as I directed; go wherever I willed." + +"Suppose--" But he halted. + +"Yes?" + +"Suppose I am killed in Tibet?" + +"But you will not be." + +"You said there would be dangers." + +"Yes--but you are a resourceful man." + +"Frequently resourceful men are killed. Let us suppose I were murdered +in Tibet--by robbers, we'll say. It would place my Government in an +awkward position. Could Tibet explain satisfactorily; or would there be +a British expedition, resulting in death for hundreds, because of one +indiscreet Englishman?" + +"Is it indiscreet," she countered, "to recover the jewels?" + +He appeared to be considering that. Finally: + +"If it were made known that the gems are there, the Government could +demand action from the ruling powers of Tibet--or send an expedition." + +She laughed. "Do you call that logic? And answer me, impossible one, who +_are_ the 'ruling powers' of Tibet, as you choose to call them? The +Dalai Lama? Or the British Raj? Answer me that! And as for the +expedition: _we_ are the expedition. In this case the wits of two are +worth more than a hundred Lee-Metfords. Guile! Guile is the stronger +weapon--and it does not attract so much attention as guns!" + +Again silence. They were still drifting with the current. Behind, in the +moon's path, was a tiny blotch--another boat. He watched it curiously. +Seeing his inquisitive look, the woman spoke. + +"No doubt it is Tambusami with your luggage; I instructed him to fetch +it from the Inspection Bungalow and follow. Yonder," she explained, with +a gesture downstream, "is your camp. There you will remain until dawn. I +shall accompany you to the camp, as I have further instructions to give +your guide." + +Questions bred in Trent's brain and clamored for utterance, but he +pressed them back. For her to know he was anxious was the surest way to +learn nothing. Therefore he held his tongue, reflecting upon what she +had told him. + +He was suspicious of her promises. She was not a type to volunteer +service to a government without some personal motive. And of her motives +he was doubtful. There was a scheme of her own interrelated and under +the surface. Too, he felt that by this latest move, in having his +luggage brought from the Inspection Bungalow, she had thrown Kerth off +the trail. + +He extracted cigarettes from his pocket, for he felt that a smoke would +clarify his thoughts; passed the case to her. She took one with +languorous grace and bent nearer for him to light it. As the match +flared, he saw her eyes, again like black opals, close to his. But he +learned no secrets from them; they were as baffling, as crowded with +mysteries, as the black jungles ahead of him. + +"There is much more to be explained," she said, tilting her head and +expelling smoke from her nostrils; "certain things to be ignorant of +which would surely lead to trouble...." + +As they drifted on she talked, cigarette in one hand, the other resting +upon the map. Before long Da-yak plied his paddle, sending little +ripples over the stars that lay reflected like silver pebbles in the +river. The moon rode high above the hills, a phantom dugout, and the +collar of silver coins spread in extravagant display. The boatman in the +rear crooned a song of ancient Hkamti--of a Sawbwa who loved a Maru +maiden and forsook his kingdom for the dark-eyed daughter of delight. +And Trent, listening, felt himself drawn back to the night when he stood +in the bow of the _Manchester_, in the realm of the stars, and Romance +whispered an old, old tale. + +The spell did not leave until the boat grated upon a sandbank, close to +a dark tangle of forest, and Da-yak sprang out. Then Sarojini Nanjee put +away the map, rose and took Trent's hand. + +"Your camp is only a short distance beyond the trees," she told him. + +As he stepped out of the boat Da-yak made a sound like a night-bird, and +a moment later there came an answering cry from the dark thicket. + + +4 + +When the juggler--he of the scar and the drooping eyelid--left the alley +in the bazaar, it was to follow Da-yak. At the P. W. D. Bungalow he saw +a sahib join the Tibetan--which was what he expected. From there he +tracked them to the river, and stood upon the high bank watching as they +cast off and glided downstream. + +When they were well under way he sauntered down to the huddle of boats, +and, choosing one, dropped his pack in the bow and kicked the Kachin who +lay sleeping in the bottom. + +"Wake up, lazy one; I would go to Waingmaw." + +The boatman, thus awakened, looked up with unconcealed hostility. Seeing +a native, and a ragged one at that, he let go a stream of oaths that, +fortunately for him, were not understood by the juggler. However, the +latter imagined from the tone in which the words were delivered that he +was being neither praised nor glorified. + +"This for thy trouble, O boatman," said the juggler, choosing to ignore +the oaths and thrusting a banknote within view of the Kachin's eyes. + +The boatman, not entirely appeased yet too avaricious to allow a mere +insult to stand between him and the banknote, pushed off, and the +juggler seated himself in the stern, both to steer and to watch the +craft ahead. + +"Do not gain on yonder boat," he instructed when they were in midstream, +"nor lose. If thou hast a conscience that thou canst smother, then this +night will indeed be profitable for thee, Kachin." + +The juggler said this knowing well that his every word would be repeated +to all the boatmen in Myitkyina, and that, after traveling through +devious channels, they would reach the bazaar, greatly magnified en +route. For what purpose a juggler with a drooping eyelid had followed a +boat down the river could only be surmised--but bazaars surmise much. + +"Know you those who are in that boat?" he continued, baiting gossip. + +The Kachin grunted--which was intended as a negative answer. + +"The boatmen are no friends of thine?" + +Another grunt. "The boat belongs to Kin Lo," the Kachin volunteered, +chewing on an opium pellet. "But some stranger hired it for the night." +And he added, by way of personal suggestion, "They paid well." + +This information pleased the juggler, for he smiled and drew out a +cheroot and lighted it. + +"Aye!" he growled. "They paid well, did they? Well, why should they not? +Robbers! Sons of swine! Listen, Kachin--in yonder boat is my enemy. From +Mandalay I have followed him, and ere the moon sinks I shall avenge the +wrongs he committed against my house!" + +"A-a-ah!" sympathized the Kachin, forgetting the rude awakening--they +are as eager for scandal, these wild men of the hills, as the most +polished Englishman who sits beneath a punkah in Rangoon Cantonment. + +Whereupon the juggler recited a tale of imaginary woes and wrongs that +did justice to his alleged art of story-telling. Myitkyina's lights had +long dropped away behind when the juggler saw the leading boat turn, +cross the path of moonlight and glide shoreward. + +"Ah!" he muttered. "See, Kachin, he thinks to elude me, the swine!" + +A glance behind showed him another craft--a mere speck on the expanse of +the river. For a moment he was undecided what to do, then, with an +exclamation of satisfaction, he stripped himself but for a perineal +band. + +"Listen well, Kachin," he admonished, creeping forward. "It is not wise +for my enemy to see me coming ashore; therefore I shall swim, like a +crocodile. Turn back to Myitkyina. There hurry to the bungalow of +Colonel Warburton Sahib--you know where it is? Tell him he is wanted at +the landing immediately. He will go." + +"But my money," objected the Kachin. "How do I know you will come back?" + +"Dost thou not see, O fool, that I have left my clothes and my pack? +Will not I return for them?" + +The boatman was not positive of that. + +"Well, then, I will give you half now," compromised the juggler, taking +a wallet from the inside pocket of his discarded jacket. The Kachin +watched with crafty eyes to see if the wallet would be returned to the +pocket, but the juggler thrust it carefully under his turban. + +"Lend me thy _dah_," he directed. "And do as I said. Thou shalt be well +rewarded for thy trouble." + +With the knife gripped between his teeth, he slipped over the side into +the current. He made no sound as he swam away from the boat; only his +moving head and the ripples in his wake told of swift, underwater +strokes. + +The river was cool--old wine to the muscles--and he made for the bank +several hundred feet above the white stretch of sand where the other +craft had landed. Not until he was very close to the shore could he +touch bottom. There he halted, head above the surface, eyes straining to +penetrate the gloom further along. He could make out the faint blur of +the boat and a single figure huddled in the stern. A look toward +midstream showed him his craft fast being absorbed by the darkness. +Behind it, coming from Myitkyina, was another boat. + +He waited for events to mature. When the latter craft, which he could +see contained two forms, came abreast of him, midstream, it turned +shoreward and a few minutes later touched the sandbank near the boat +that he had followed. He could dimly make out the two forms as they +carried several bulky objects ashore and vanished in the jungle--leaving +the solitary figure huddled in the rear of one of the boats. + +The juggler smiled to himself and struck out, swimming easily with the +current. Less than twenty yards from the boat he submerged, propelling +himself forward until yellow sparks reeled before him; then he buoyed +himself up. + +The two country-boats loomed close by. His heart beat a tattoo against +his breast as he waited, feet upon the pebbly bottom, to see if his +approach had been heard. Apparently it had not, for the man--a native +boatman from his appearance--lounged in the rear seat, his body slouched +forward. + +After a brief hesitation the juggler (his eyelid no longer drooping) +took the _dah_ from between his teeth and moved slowly, cautiously to +the rear of the boat. It was shallower there; the water barely reached +his arm-pits and his chin was level with the back of the craft. The man +had not stirred; he was evidently asleep, the juggler thought. The +forest that met the sandbank was silent but for the whirr of cicadas. + +For a full moment the juggler stood motionless. When he moved it was +quickly--and before the native had time to realize what had occurred, he +was seized and jerked backward over the stern. If he cried out, the +water smothered the sound. But what he failed to do in noise, he made up +for in activity. He squirmed and wriggled, his legs and arms thrashing +about in vain effort to wrest himself from the grasp of his sudden +assailant. But the juggler had the advantage of surprise--and a firm +hold on the native's neck--and he brought the hilt of the _dah_ down +upon the latter's skull. The native relaxed--sank with a gurgle.... The +juggler lifted him. Assured that he was only unconscious, he dragged him +to the sandbank, and there, breathing heavily, sank on his knees. + +The native, like the juggler, had a beardless face and was naked but for +loincloth and turban. The latter was small, a mere rag twisted around +his head. Therefore, the juggler told himself with the darkness as his +ally he might easily pass for the other--for a short while at least. And +the defeat of empire has been accomplished in less than an hour. + +He quickly stripped the man, then cut his own turban into strips and +gagged and bound the unconscious one. When this was done, he caught the +fellow under the arms and dragged him several yards down the bank. +There, carefully selecting a spot in the undergrowth where he was not +likely to be soon found, he hid him. Retracing his steps to the boat, he +sat down in the stern to wait. + +Indeed, he reflected, his kismet looked upon him with favor. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +FEVER + + +Like a black wedge driven from Hkamti Long into Upper Burma, its point +touching the confluence of the Irrawaddi, lies a strip of territory that +on British maps is marked "unadministered." Outposts have been +established on either side, from Fort Hertz down to Myitkyina, paltry +stations where, in many instances, one white man and less than a company +of Gurkhas impose law upon primitive tribes. Thus, walled by +civilization yet untouched by it, the people of this black wedge live. A +peaceful lot now, this remnant of the once great Tai race. +Copper-skinned men hunt through its cathedral forests with _dah_ and +crossbow. Baboons, buffalo and musk deer roam over its hills. Reptiles +haunt the green mucous of miasmatic valleys. Fever and pestilence lurk +in the purple fungi spawned by dark jungles, in bogs and in swamps where +the stench of rotten orchids hangs like a poison-vapor. + +Into this black wedge Trent traveled. Late afternoon of the ninth day +found his caravan encamped on a spit of sand reaching out into a river, +a stream that moved languorously between high canebrake. The man who sat +on a collapsible campstool before his tent, smoking, was as little like +the Englishman who got off the train at Myitkyina ten days before as +possible. His khaki breeches and flannel shirt were streaked with dust; +mud was caked upon his boots. The sun had burned him a deeper bronze, +and every variety of insect, from sandfly to blood-sucker, had left +marks upon him. A nine-days' growth of beard helped to cover tawny +fever-stains, but blotches showed on his neck and hands.... The jungle +had shown him how she initiates her neophytes. + +As he sat there staring at the jade-green river, he went back, in +retrospection, over the journey--not that he derived any pleasure from +the recollections, but because his brain seemed inclined to reach behind +and he was too mentally weary to make any effort to prevent it. To him, +now, those nine days were a confused sequence. For many miles beyond the +'Nmai-hka travel was not difficult, along bridle-paths and past villages +where Kachin and Maru women, flat-featured, ugly creatures, planted +their _taungya_, and men sat outside fiber huts and chewed betel leaves; +rugged, undulating country; rivers that flung their torrents over +shallow beds and were spanned by rattan bridges, the latter impossible +for the mules. Twice, where the water was too deep, Trent had the +muleteers construct crude rafts and pole the pack-animals across. The +first time they attempted this they lost a mule. Trent would always +remember that scene: the shrieking porters on the raft, the look of the +beast as the stream wrapped foaming arms about it and dragged it down +among sharp-fanged rocks. + +That night he had had his first attack of fever. For several hours he +lay on his camp-bed, harassed by ticks and bloodflies, shivering and +vomiting at intervals. Then he fell asleep, and when he awakened in the +morning, with rain drip-dripping monotonously upon tapering fronds, his +back ached and he was a furnace. All day it rained and all day Masein, +the Lisu guide, attended him. The following morning he had only a slight +temperature--a chronic touch of fever that remained for several +days--and he pressed on. + +Hourly the country grew wilder. They passed through thickets and +underbrush as tall as a man. Wild pigs scurried away in the bracken, and +jungle fowl preened their wings in the shadow of groping plants, taking +flight at the appearance of human beings. The fourth night they were +close to a stretch of burning bamboo--one of those sourceless fires that +spring up and sweep over miles. It was an awesome sight, the flames +flaring crimson against the sky, like the angry vomit of a crater, the +bamboo stalks popping and crackling as loud as the rattle of +machine-guns. + +Soon their trail led into great, dim forests. There the sunlight, robbed +of its pitiless blaze, sifted through interlaced branches and sucked up +moisture from the ground, creating a weird green haze. The air was +malarial, the ground ever soggy and in places treacherous. More than +once the mules sank to their bellies in bogs and fens. The miasmas +crawled with stealthy life--snakes and horrid land-crabs. Leeches bred +by the millions, and the oozy corruption exuded a thin, luminous vapor +that was warm and clammy and reeked of decayed matter. This noxious +swamp-effluvia seemed to penetrate to every crevice of Trent's being; it +saturated his brain; it tainted his thoughts. He ceased to marvel at the +wilderness of plumed flowers, of dank jungle caverns where sunlight +pulsed through the lacework of leaves in needles of white +flame--stretches where convolvulus fought for possession of every limb +and trunk, and insects rattled above stagnant pools of Death.... There +were times when a fever-film separated him from the world about him and +deprived objects of their individuality. + +At night spunk shone like phantom eyes. Strange winged creatures wheeled +out of the darkness. Baboons coughed in the bush. When the moon came out +the swamps glittered like sheets of rusted gunmetal--or, if it stormed, +the great jungle-expanse seemed a chapel of terror. Often Trent tried to +read by the campfire. But invariably the print danced before his eyes. +He would lie down outside the tent, listening to the Maru porters piping +on bamboo flutes, and when he grew sleepy Masein would rub him with +alcohol.... Thus he spent his evenings. + +Frequently--at dusk, dawn or midday--cool hands of memory fell with +silken lightness upon his feverish thoughts, the hands of the girl who +had become so closely woven into the fabric of his being. During those +half-delirious hours she grew to be an integral possession, a real +presence, warm and tangible.... And just as frequently, perhaps more +poignantly, he thought of Manlove. The silence, the isolation from his +kind, seemed to press deeper the realization of what had occurred. +There were moments when it seemed unreal; when the woman of the +cobra-bracelet, Chatterjee and the others that played in the drama, were +vague shapes in a shadow-show.... Or, if it had all happened, it was +long ago, dim as a dream.... That was fever. + +Too, he thought of Euan Kerth and conjectured what had become of him +since that evening he hurried away in the dusk at Myitkyina. That he had +lost the trail he felt certain, although there was a chance that he +would appear unexpectedly, as he had done before--a very filmy chance. +Had he discovered where Trent was going, he would surely have +communicated with him in some way. + +At several villages he inquired through Masein if another caravan had +preceded his. By the negative replies it became evident that Sarojini +Nanjee had taken another route, and he strongly suspected that she had +deliberately sent him on the longer and more difficult of the two. After +a few attempts to draw information from Masein, he decided that the Lisu +knew nothing, was simply what he was represented to be--a guide. + +The country beyond the swampland afforded much better traveling. To the +west mountains were visible--faint pastels of gray and pearl and +amethyst. In rocky gashes in the earth little cataracts fumed and +tumbled, and ferns and orchids grew in damp, moss-covered hollows. Trent +shot a deer and several pheasants. The higher altitude buoyed his +spirits, as did the fresh venison and fowl after so much canned food. +He ceased thinking morose thoughts. Yet the horror and reek of those +two days in the miasmas still clung in his memory, even in his nostrils, +he sometimes imagined. + +Thus, on the afternoon of the ninth day, they came to the spit of sand +reaching out into the river and pitched camp; and Trent, pipe in mouth, +sat in front of his shelter and looked at the Maru porters swimming in +the jade-green river without seeing them, while Masein gathered fuel, +and the mules, tethered near to the canebrake, swung their heads and +stamped in futile efforts to shake off leeches. There was nothing in the +scene even to suggest that an eventful night was being ushered in. + +The sun dropped lower. It chased the jade-green river with gold until it +glittered like a scaly python. Fireflies glimmered in the rushes, and a +bat pursued a velvety-winged moth.... Across the stream, from a Shan +village somewhere close by, a gong sounded. The Marus, laughing, swam +across and disappeared in the high grass. Masein called after them, but +received no response, and, muttering to himself, he impaled a strip of +venison upon a stick and held it over the flame. It writhed.... + +A few minutes later Trent was stripped and in the water. Refreshed by a +swim, he dried himself and ate a meal of venison steak and tea. Stars +sprinkled the still flushed sky, like drippings from a silver +paint-brush, and under the spell of the jungle sunset Trent sat down in +front of his tent to smoke. + +It was then that he heard a faint, staccato report--like that of a +revolver or a rifle. + +It came from the hill-jungle behind the camp, and for several seconds +afterward he listened for a repetition. Masein, too, had heard, for he +stood motionless, looking at his master. But there was no second report, +and the silence, the utter quiet, made Trent wonder if he had really +heard anything. If it was a shot--? Well, he knew the natives had no +firearms; there must be white men in the district, P. W. D. men or +Government officers. In that event he did not wish to be seen, as there +would be questions to answer. He therefore suggested that Masein +investigate, and the Lisu plunged eagerly into the canebrake. + +A moment afterward Trent's imagination supplied a solution for the +shot--Kerth. He started to call Masein back, but reconsidered and +waited.... His wrist-watch ticked off fifteen minutes. He noticed, +abstractedly, pale flickerings on the far-away hills. When a half hour +had passed he followed the native's trail through the rushes and along a +narrow bridle-path. Not far from camp he met Masein. + +"It is a white man, master," exclaimed the Lisu. "He has a camp +there"--with a gesture. + +Then he extended something that glinted softly in the gloom, and Trent +took it and examined it closely. The blood throbbed in his throat. + +"Where did you get this?" he demanded. + +"He gave it to me, master--the white man. He said when you saw that you +would come." + +Without another word Trent followed the Lisu, the blood still throbbing +hotly in his throat. For the thing that glinted softly was a golden +bracelet with the figure of a king-cobra wrought in heavy relief upon +it. + +More than a half-mile from the camp, on the trail that Trent's caravan +had traveled, they came to a clearing. A tent was pitched at one side, a +litter of packs scattered carelessly about three mules. A shadowy form +sat on a stool before the tent-door--a form that resolved into a young +man in khaki and a sun-helmet. The revolver that he held shone in the +deep twilight. + +As Trent and the Lisu appeared he jumped up. Trent instinctively drew +his weapon. The young man stumbled toward him. A yard away he paused and +swayed; his revolver slipped from limp fingers. + +"Major Trent!" + +At the sound of the voice, Trent sprang forward and caught the slim +form. It relaxed and the sun-helmet fell to the ground, releasing a +wealth of hair that rippled down and showered the shoulders with coiled +strands that in the fading light gleamed like molten copper. + +"Oh, I knew you would come!" she gasped, with a hysterical little laugh. +"I--I sent that--like Kurnavati sent her bracelet--to Humayun--only--you +came--in time!" + +Whereupon her head dropped back and the starlight shone upon cool, +lustrous features. But she was not cool. Trent felt the heat of her +body, and, apprehensive, he placed his hand upon her forehead; let it +slip down until it touched the pulse in her throat; drew a sharp breath +and swore. Her eyes were open--glassy, staring eyes that looked at him +without seeing. + +"Miss Charteris!" he said. "Where are your porters? Who's with you? +You're not here alone, are you?" + +She did not answer. The lids sank over her eyes, and he knew she had +fainted. He looked about irresolutely. Through the trees, in the +direction of his camp, he saw a quick flash. + +"There was nobody else here when you first came?" he asked Masein; then, +as the Lisu answered negatively, commanded: "Look in the tent." + +Masein obeyed. His expression when he emerged told Trent it was empty. +The Englishman lifted the girl in his arms. + +"Wait here a few minutes," he instructed. "If anybody comes, report it +to me." + +With that he turned and strode back along the bridle-path, laboring +under the weight of the girl's body. + +Frequent flashes illuminated earth and sky; thunder grumbled, +approaching closer with every roll. A wind had sprung up and was +rustling the leaves overhead. Trent hurried, fearing the storm would +break before he reached camp. + +When he finally came to the sand-spit the wind was wildly whipping the +tent-flap. The stars had gone, and lightning, streaks following in rapid +succession, reflected a livid, sick hue upon the river. The girl was +conscious when he placed her upon his cot. She clung to his hands. + +"Where is the pain?" he asked. "In your back mainly?" + +She only moaned; he felt a tremor pass through her. Gently freeing his +hands, he went outside and shouted for one of the Marus. He swore +savagely when he received no answer. After strengthening the tent-pegs, +he made a search for his electric pocket-lamp. Snapping it on, he opened +his medicine-case; took out a hypodermic syringe.... + +The rain came then, suddenly, in a drenching downpour. Sheets of water, +illuminated by vivid flares, swept across the river; ruthlessly lashed +the canebrake; beat deafeningly upon the canvas. Thunder crashed out in +mighty belches that shook the very ground.... It seemed that the +artilleries of the universe had concentrated upon earth. + +Trent knelt beside Dana Charteris, holding her hands and frequently +feeling her pulse. The girl went from one paroxysm of shivering into +another. Gradually the opiate deadened the pain. Several times she tried +to speak to him, but he put his fingers over her lips. + +Meanwhile the tent-ropes strained, the wind tore through the trees. An +occasional crash told of a falling limb. For over an hour this +continued; then it ceased as suddenly as it had begun. When the wind +died down, Trent lighted a candle. Dana Charteris was as still and white +as a chiseled figure on a tomb. The sight of her made him catch his +breath. As he drew nearer she opened her eyes. He lifted one burning +wrist. + +"My porters," she whispered. "They ran away--I--" + +"You must keep very quiet," he interposed. + +"Is--is it--that bad?" + +He hesitated, then nodded. She closed her eyes; opened them an instant +later. + +"But do you want to save me? You know now ... the bracelet ..." + +"You must keep quiet," he repeated. "You must help me that way." + +A short while afterward, when the pattering rain had ceased and stars +peeped through the doorway, Masein crept in and told Trent something. +What it was the Englishman could not remember; he remembered only that +he directed the Lisu to break up the girl's camp and bring her mules and +supplies to the sand-spit. Every thought was focussed upon the slim hot +body that rolled and tossed upon the cot. She begged for injections of +opiate and sobbed when he refused. His lip was sore from the pressure of +his teeth. With each shiver of pain he suffered. It was one of the few +times in his career when he was afraid, dreadfully afraid. + +The dark hours wore on. Shortly after first-dawn she fell into a +restless feverish sleep. He slipped out to tell Masein to fetch fresh +water, and as he reentered he felt a hard object in his pocket, pressing +against his thigh. It was the bracelet. He withdrew it, vanquishing by +sheer force the thoughts that uprose in his mind, and placed it in his +kit-bag. There it would stay until she could speak. + +As morning looked down from a golden sky Dana Charteris awakened, and +the battle was on again. + + +2 + +During the next two days Trent lost cognizance of time. He warred +against elemental forces, armed with the crudest of weapons. Queer, +unfolding moments came to him, bringing a potent consciousness of +conflict that took him back to nights of tragedy and smoky turmoil--a +sense of blood in throat and nostrils that soldiers know. + +The girl wavered on the border of delirium. In her weakness she pleaded +for false stimulation, and there were times when he was tempted, for her +sake, to take the easiest course. Yet he knew that to surrender would +slay the tissues of resistance that he had struggled so steadfastly to +build, and he forced himself to consider only a lasting relief, +suffering himself an anguish as keen as the physical and experiencing +self-loathing when he performed those intimacies that were demanded of +him. + +He had fought death where the harvest was ghastly, perhaps had grown a +little calloused, as men will when in close and constant contact with +human ills, yet always, even in the case of the meanest Hindu coolie, he +felt a responsibility that challenged his sparring instincts. It was as +though he guarded some terrible frontier.... But nothing had ever so +drawn upon him and consumed his every unit of nerve and energy as this. +He felt wholly accountable for her condition, here in this remote spot. +Her pain was his own, a part of him, feeding upon his vitality. He gave +willingly, seeming in moments when she was drawn close to the Door to +infuse into her the power to fight as he, a strong man, could +fight--physically and spiritually. He was lifting her, but sinking +himself as he lifted. There were periods when thought and action were no +longer submissive to will; his brain felt atrophied and he was sentient +only to utter exhaustion. He seemed incapable of stemming the rush of +things beyond his dominion--was an atom in the path of a blinding and +inexorable force. The values of human remedies and sciences dwindled in +his sight. He was drained. Yet a vitalizing power, some inner dynamo, +never failed to energize him. He attended to every detail himself, +allowing Masein and the Marus only to take turns with a palmleaf at the +bedside.... It was, after he had exhausted medical means, a grapple in +the dark with foes that were neither tangible nor corporeal; when it was +over he did not understand nor try to fathom the miracle that was +wrought. + +At dusk of the third day her temperature was almost normal and she was +sleeping quietly. Trent, his face haggard, left the Lisu fanning her and +lurched rather than walked to the river. He shed his clothing and lay +for some time in the shallow water, his head pillowed upon one bent arm, +tasting of absolute relaxation. + +When he returned to the tent Dana Charteris was awake. Her hair lay in +red-gold confusion about her white face--a pool of glowing shades and +lights. She smiled faintly as he entered and he took the palmleaf from +Masein, motioning him to leave. She spoke. + +"I think we've won." + +By that he knew they had. A surge of relief swept up through him. It was +like a new and strange delirium; it unseated his control. He sank upon +his knees, and his lips touched one cool, moist hand. The fingers of her +other hand ran lightly through his hair. + +"O Arnold Trent, how you fought!" she breathed tremulously. "And all the +while you were wondering, wondering why I was there that night--why I--" + +"Hush," he remonstrated, lifting his head, again in command of himself. +"It isn't finished yet. You must promise not to speak of that--not until +I ask you. Now go to sleep. That is the quickest way you can get well." + +"I promise," she said weakly, tears trembling in her eyes, "if you will +rest, too. Will you? You need to be strong--strong--so you can help me." + +She closed her eyes; sighed. Her hand slipped from his clasp. + +He spread a blanket on the sand in front of the tent; spread it, and lay +down; and almost instantly sleep declared itself the emperor of his +being. + + +3 + +The convalescence of Dana Charteris was short. A break in the rains had +more than a little to do with her recovery, for the sunshine was a +golden elixir that aroused the stricken forces of her body, was a +warmth that wiped away the fever-stains and ripened a faint color in +her cheeks. + +Once Trent offered to read to her. She begged him instead to tell her of +those tiger-hunts with his father. That seemed to touch a spring that +opened secret vaults of his nature. There was color and feeling in his +telling. He spoke in the abstract. She could smell the beast, flanks +aquiver, and wet, monsoon jungles in his sentences--sentences that +abounded with the metaphors that he liked to use.... India lived in her +while he talked--India, her wildernesses and her cities, her heart-break +and her treachery. Too, he taught her a few Hindustani words and +phrases. + +But his contributions did not alone make those hours rare. Her gifts +were as precious as pearls. Gossamer dawns when the sun's sabers smote +the lingering darkness and sent it reeling, when life seemed at its +ripest; the languor of purple nights, campfires glowing in the dusk--all +these were but vessels for the exquisite revelation of her. + +Yet under their talk was a strain that never relaxed. In the main part, +they spoke guardedly. The man never ceased to wonder what the +consequences of the delay would be, and it concerned him more than a +little what Sarojini Nanjee might do if she learned through Masein of an +alien presence in the caravan; while the girl, realizing she was holding +him back, yet dreading the time when he pronounced her entirely +recovered, was in a constant state of chaos. + +The fourth day after she passed the danger mark brought to a climax +their play-acting. The sun, like a red-lacquered ball, was rolling +toward the hills, shying little bronze disks at the river, and Dana +Charteris was seated on a blanket in front of the tent. Trent went to +his kit-bag to get a fresh supply of tobacco, and the gold bracelet +slipped out. She smiled--a frightened smile. She broke the tension by +saying: + +"There's no use to pretend any longer. I can't endure it. I'm delaying +you. I am strong enough to--to--" She stopped; began anew. "Oh, you've +been fighting against it! You're afraid for me to speak, afraid--" Again +she halted, groping for words. + +He had picked up the bracelet. She caught his hand. + +"Sit down, won't you?" + +He sank beside her. But his eyes were upon the heavily-chased circlet of +gold. + +"You've been so kind!" she breathed. "And all along, when you realized I +had been deceiving you, you tried to tell yourself it wasn't true; that +there might be two bracelets like that, and that it wasn't I who wore it +at Gaya that night. But there's probably not another bracelet like that +in India. My brother bought it for me in Delhi. It _was_ I who wore it +at Gaya--who spoke to you on the road--who eavesdropped--who tried to +cheat you--who ran away, like a coward, when it became known that +Captain Manlove had been--been killed!" + +Strained silence followed, the girl eagerly watching his face for some +expression either of encouragement or condemnation, the man staring at +the bracelet in his hands. She forced herself to go on. + +"There's so much to tell that.... Well, I'll start at the very +beginning, when my brother sent for me to come to India--" + +Followed a recital of the meeting in Delhi and of her brother's story of +the jewels of Indore. + +"That night some one entered Alan's room and stole the imitation Pearl +Scarf," she continued. "Alan was hurt--stabbed. Later I found the +thief's turban and, inside, a scrap of paper with foreign writing upon +it. When I showed it to Alan, he said it was Urdu. Translated, it read +something like this: 'His name is Major Arnold Trent, of Gaya.'" + +Trent lifted his eyes questioningly, and she nodded. + +"Yes, your name and address. That was all.... Alan was of the opinion +that the package Chavigny carried into the bazaar at Indore contained +the _real_ Pearl Scarf, and that instead of the copy he snatched that. +By some means, he believed, it was traced to him--and stolen--whether by +Chavigny or another he could only guess. + +"I had an inspiration." She smiled slightly. "You will think me +foolish--yet--yet you seemed to understand on the _Manchester_ when I +told you of the 'Caves of Kor' and the pirate island. I saw the doors of +my adventure opening. Too, I wanted to help Alan. I suggested that I +might learn something if I went to Gaya; Alan couldn't because of his +hurt. He wouldn't hear of it at first, but I finally persuaded him--and +went to Gaya, intending to go no further, not realizing--" + +She broke off abruptly, shrugged. + +"The afternoon I reached Gaya I hunted up your bungalow, merely to get +the location. That was the time I met you on the road. I'm a poor +adventurer, for that encounter frightened me dreadfully--and by the way +you looked at that"--indicating the bracelet--"I knew you'd recognize it +if you saw it again. That night I returned--and--" She paused, quite +evidently confused. "You'll surely think I--I--" + +"Go on," he said laconically. + +She averted her face, a flush upon her cheeks. + +"I listened outside a window and heard you tell Captain Manlove of your +orders from Delhi and that you were going to Benares. After that I +hurried away. As I was leaving the compound Captain Manlove came to the +door. I went back to the Dak Bungalow and sat down and thought. Oh, I +thought a long while. Then I rode to the telegraph office and sent a +message to Alan, saying I was leaving for Benares. While I was there an +officer came in and I heard him tell the clerk that Captain Manlove had +been found"--she hesitated--"dead." + +The muscles of Trent's jaw tightened visibly as she pronounced the word. +Otherwise he was expressionless, still staring at the bracelet. Why +didn't he move or say something, she wondered? It was maddening, the way +he kept silence! + +"The picture of Captain Manlove," she resumed, "as I last saw him in +the doorway haunted me. I thought of a hundred things that might happen +if it were learned that I had gone to your bungalow just before--before +his death. So"--there was a bitter note in her voice--"so I left within +two hours, buying a ticket to Mughal Sarai instead of to Benares." + +For the first time he asked a question; but he did not raise his eyes. + +"You took the coral pendant from my room--there at Benares?" + +She nodded. "That piece of coral! It caused me hours of anxiety! The +afternoon you arrived I saw it in your hands while you were sitting on +the portico. It rather fired my imagination, although I didn't know its +significance then. After dinner, when you left the hotel, I tried to +follow, but I became hopelessly lost. I had a frightful time finding my +way back to the hotel. But I wasn't to be cheated; intrigue was burning +in me that night. I borrowed a skeleton key and sent my servant--a man I +had hired--to search your room and bring me the piece of coral. Of +course, when I found that it opened and that Chavigny's alias was +engraved inside, I knew I had a valuable clue. But my servant wasn't +able to return it, for when he went back there was a light in your +room.... I was in a dilemma. I didn't know what to do." + +"But why did you send him to my room in the first place--or follow me to +Benares?" he interrupted quietly. "Surely you knew I was on a Government +mission and that--I sha'n't mince words--that you were interfering with +affairs that didn't concern you." + +"Yes, I realize that," she confessed. "Oh, I admit I was wrong--but I +had entered the 'Caves of Kor' and the lure of them drew me on." + +"I don't mean to be unkind," he broke in, relenting. "I--" + +"You are simply telling the truth," she supplied. "I _shouldn't_ have +done it, but I deluded myself into believing I might recover the Pearl +Scarf and help Alan. I was selfish enough to want him to achieve at the +cost of another's failure. That was why I went on to Calcutta. I had no +idea where you were going, that next morning at Benares; that is, until +I saw a porter take your trunk from your room. Then I sent my servant to +find out where it was bound, and--I packed quickly and followed." + +"Then you tracked me to the Chinese quarter there, instead of--" He did +not finish. + +She knew that the truth would tarnish a memory, but she could not evade +it. She smiled wanly. + +"I have reached the 'Temple of Truth' in my 'Caves of Kor'! Yes, I +followed, with a guide. Alan had wired me the name of a man who he said +would serve me well--an old bearer of his. I waited all afternoon on the +upper porch of the hotel, and when you left I followed, with Guru Singh, +the bearer. We hired an automobile, instructing the driver to keep you +in sight. When you left your automobile, we left ours.... Oh, those +frightful places you led us through! Of course we were halted when you +went into that house in that dreadful street. + +"I determined then to make your acquaintance. Just before you came out I +sent Guru Singh away; then I deliberately threw myself upon your mercy. +But oh, I felt guilty! I realized that you didn't suspect it was all +deliberate and planned! + +"The next morning I made another desperate move. I _had_ to return that +piece of coral. Too, I wanted to learn your plans. I gave the pendant to +Guru Singh--with instructions. To insure him against discovery, I--I +asked you to go shopping with me. Guru Singh found a packet in your +trunk showing that you had a berth on the _Manchester_ to Rangoon, and +that from there you were going to Myitkyina, to the shop of Da-yak, a +Tibetan. But your servant happened along, and in the excitement Guru +Singh forgot to leave the coral. It seemed that I'd never rid myself of +it!" + +The sun was almost below the hills now. A gong in the nearby Shan +village rang clearly across the quiet evening. Both Trent and the girl +sat motionless, listening until it died out. + +"I wired Alan that I was going to Rangoon and would wait for him there," +she said, taking up the thread of her story. "I didn't send it until +just before I went to the boat, for I was afraid he might say no--and, +oh, I wanted to see my adventure through! + +"On shipboard Guru Singh at last succeeded in returning the coral--but +that inevitable servant of yours appeared. I was terrified when I +learned that Guru Singh had been caught! I felt responsible for it, and +afterward I carried food to him several times. That was what I was doing +the night I met you on deck. I was frightened, and I flung plate and all +overboard. Then.... But you know what occurred then. I had come to hate +myself for what I was doing, yet the thing was a Medusa. It held me and +I let it draw me on. + +"I met Guru Singh, by previous instructions, at the pagoda in Rangoon, +and we drove to Alan's bungalow--but only to leave part of my baggage, +and that night I took a train for Myitkyina with Guru Singh. When we got +there I realized the presence of a strange white woman would be noticed +in so small a place, so I instructed Guru Singh carefully and went back +to Mandalay to wait. + +"The second day in Mandalay I heard from Guru Singh. He wired for me to +come. When I arrived he told me he had found where the jewels were--also +that you had left Myitkyina. It seems that Da-yak was arrested"--here +the muscles of Trent's jaw tensed again--"and your servant, too. Guru +Singh said he bribed the jailer to let him see Da-yak, who, after he was +paid liberally, told where you had gone.... He said the jewels had been +taken to a city in Tibet: the name is Shingtse-lunpo. The sum of his +words is that this place is the penetralia of a band called the Order of +the Falcon, with a man known as the Falcon at its head. The Tibetan took +oath he didn't know the Falcon. At any rate, he said that to get there +one had to go first to a town across the China border--Tali-fang, he +called it--and that only three men in Myitkyina knew the route to +Tali-fang, one of whom had gone with your caravan and another with some +one else. The third was a Buddhist priest. Da-yak said there were +several ways of reaching Tali-fang and that you had been sent by the +longest. At Tali-fang one would have to depend upon his own resources to +get a guide to take him into Tibet, he said. That was all he would +tell--or rather, he said that was all he knew." + +"I don't suppose," Trent questioned, "he told who had him arrested?" Yet +Trent felt that he knew without asking who had arrested Da-yak and +Tambusami. + +"No," she replied. + +Trent nodded--more to himself than to her--and she went on. + +"That the jewels were in Tibet--vast, mysterious Tibet--both frightened +and fascinated me. To go where no white woman, had been--the land of +Marco Polo, Orazio della Penna and Huc! You can understand the lure of +it. Yet I think I must have been a little mad to have attempted it--but +we all are, aren't we? + +"Guru Singh--poor, dear Guru Singh!--tried to persuade me to turn back, +but I wouldn't. We went to the Buddhist priest. For an extortionate sum +he agreed to guide us to Tali-fang. So we outfitted a caravan, Guru +Singh, the monk and I, and two days after you left Myitkyina we took the +same trail. I went as a man; I thought it would excite less suspicion. +Before leaving, I wrote Alan. I waited until then because I knew he +would disapprove. + +"At several villages we learned that you had already passed; then, the +third afternoon, one of the porters, who was ahead, came back with the +news that your pack-train was about a mile in advance. We marched more +slowly after that. The nearness of another white person reassured me, +for--oh, before that it was terrible in those jungles and swamps! I +think the loneliness and the fright, after dark, would have driven me +mad had I not remembered what the converted Brahmin priest, who lectured +at home, said about the jungle. That comforted me. + +"Last--When was it? I can't remember now--but it was late afternoon and +I was sitting in front of my tent. The Buddhist priest passed. There was +something about him, the way he looked at that moment, that struck me +numb to the heart.... I realized what an impossible thing I was trying +to do; wondered what would happen if I reached Tali-fang and found I +couldn't go further. Yet--yet I _couldn't_ turn back. As I sat there, +thinking, a desperate plan unfolded.... I told Guru Singh. + +"The next afternoon, late, he and the priest and my porters left for +Myitkyina. Guru Singh stayed behind until--until I fired the +shot--and--and your muleteer brought you. I began to feel ill, suddenly. +I.... Well, that's all. I had intended to tell you that my porters +deserted--and other lies, too. I knew you wouldn't leave me; you +couldn't send me back, and you'd have to take me with you. But +after--after all you did--I couldn't falsify; I couldn't.... Now you +know the truth." + +She halted--halted and waited for him to speak. But he did not. His eyes +were still upon the bracelet, nor did he look up. The silence was long +and tense. Finally, unable to endure it longer, she moved her hand +tentatively; dropped it; raised it again and let it rest lightly upon +his sleeve. + +"You--you believe me--don't you?" she faltered. + +He drew a deep breath; lifted his head. + +"Yes," he said, looking across the river. "Yes, of course I believe you. +I'm only wondering what I'm going to do with you." + +He rose then and moved off rapidly toward the canebrake. + + +4 + +For over an hour Trent walked. When he returned to camp he found Dana +Charteris sitting where he had left her. Masein had made a fire, and the +leaping flames kindled a glow in the meshes of her red-gold hair. Eyes +dark with misery met his--moist eyes.... The cobra-bracelet glinted on +his wrist. + +"I was abrupt a while ago," he announced, halting before her, head +slightly lowered--as a man stands before a cathedral-image. "I am sorry. +I was worried. I shouldn't have left as I did, nor should I have stayed +away so long, but I wanted to be alone--to solve the problem. I think I +have." + +She smiled faintly. "Don't apologize, Arnold Trent. You've done enough +for me." She paused. "You must hate me," she pressed on after a moment. +"First I deceive you; then I fall sick and delay you; and when I +recover, I am a stone about your neck." She laughed a mirthless little +laugh. "What are you going to do with me?" + +He made a gesture. "You were right. I haven't a guide to send back with +you, and you can't go alone. The nearest Government post is +Kwanglu--that's at least a two-days' journey. I can't afford to delay +any longer. Yet if I take you with me and anything happens to you--" He +hesitated, then finished: "I'd never forgive myself. So what am I to +do?" + +She got up, and her eyes shone with the warmth of the fire. + +"I--I might be able to help you," she suggested rather timidly, as +though afraid he would scorn the idea. "I've hindered you so much that +the least I can do is to try to make amends. Oh, I realize what you're +thinking, that I am a woman and would only be a burden, but--" + +"No," he interrupted, "I wasn't thinking that--I was thinking of you. +God knows, from a selfish standpoint, I would be glad enough for your +companionship! But aside from the physical danger, there are other +things to reckon with. That's the trouble with people; they don't +consider the future. And if we come out of this alive, there's a future. +It's all right for me; but you--you're a woman. And the public doesn't +credit any man with honor, or any woman with self-respect, if they're +thrown together under other than conventional circumstances. Don't you +see what people will say when they learn of it? And they will learn of +it--and you can't ignore their opinions. They couldn't understand, damn +them; rather, they _wouldn't_.... You see?" Another pause, and he +repeated: "You see?" + +She nodded. "Yet I'm here"--helplessly. + +"Yet you're here," he echoed, with a gesture of futility. + +He strode away; turned back at a sudden thought. + +"Of course, there's one thing I've overlooked in my masculine egotism. +It just occurred to me that you--you might be afraid to go with me." + +"No," she interposed very quietly--and to him the world seemed to expand +to greater dimensions. "No. I am not afraid." That was all. Yet it +thrilled him. + +After a few seconds he resumed. + +"You must promise to do as I say; and without asking questions. I've +given my word, you know. Before we reach Tali-fang you'll have to be +fixed up like a Hindu. You can be my brother, or anything you like. I'll +teach you a few more Hindustani words--necessary words. You won't have +to talk much, if any. There will be hardships--many--but--" He furrowed +his hair. "There's no alternative." + +Then, glancing down at the bracelet, he took it off. + +"Here--" + +"Won't you keep it?" she asked. "I sent it with a plea for succor, and +you came. According to the custom, you are my bracelet-brother, sworn to +honor and protect. So won't you keep it, as Humayun, the Great Mogul, +kept the bracelet of Kurnavati, the Rani of Chitor?" + +For answer he slipped the golden circlet over his hand. The girl, with a +swift smile, turned and went into the tent. And, being a man, he could +not know it was for the express purpose of crying. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +CARAVAN + + +Ahead, above a sea of indigo poppies, rose the walls of Tali-fang. Blue +poppies rippled eastward and north to the foot of blue mountains (the +seamed, craggy wastes that bulwarked Tibet); rippled westward and south +until they melted into the blue haze of uncertain distance. Thus the +city, with its dun-colored walls, swam in the poppies like an island +against whose battlemented shore blue waves surged and tossed. + +The cavalcade that rode through the veritable tunnel under the ramparts +was hardly one to arouse suspicion in the mind of the blear-eyed +Yunnanese soldier who drowsed in the damp dismal shadow of this gateway +that was almost as ancient as China itself and under which at least one +fifth of the opium that finds its way mysteriously to the Coast, and +thence over the rim of the earth, had passed. To him it was merely a +string of burdened, tired-looking mules, four half-naked +savages--_yehjen_, as the Chinese call the hill-folk of Upper Burma--and +two swarthy, turbaned men that he could not immediately classify and was +too indolent, too saturated with drugs, to conjecture about. + +Tali-fang was small and sprawling. Flies swarmed over it, as over a +corpse, and the odor of it was very like that of the dead. Misty-eyed, +morbific beings--neither Trent nor Dana Charteris could call them +human--lounged in the doorways of filthy houses: Mossos, Loutses, +Chinese and Tibetans. City, inhabitants, all, seemed as old and +iniquitous as sin itself. + +After numerous inquiries they were directed to the _yamen_ of the +Tchentai, or military chief--a house with upcurling eaves, surrounded by +a wall. A soldier informed them that his Excellency Fong Wa, the +Tchentai, was at present indisposed, but if they would go to the inn he +would send for them at the proper time. + +The caravanserai was a mean, stinking place. If there was a +_khan_-keeper he was nowhere in evidence. The hovel was deserted. Late +in the afternoon two Mussulman soldiers appeared and told Trent that the +Tchentai would receive him, and with Masein in tow (he left Dana +Charteris, a slim, boyish figure, hair bound under a turban, sitting in +a dejected heap in the courtyard) he followed them to the _yamen_ of +Fong Wa. + +The mandarin was waiting in a court where orange-trees and pomegranates +dappled the ground with shadow. From the manner in which he greeted +Trent the latter suspected that the Chinaman knew he was white. His +green eyes--vicious, cunning eyes--looked out from beneath puffed lids. +As he talked a flat-breasted slattern attended him with a pipe and poppy +treacle. + +"I expected you many days before this," said his Excellency, through +Masein. "I trust you have not been ill." + +Trent replied that he had. After a few more courtesies, including gifts, +the yellow man presented Trent with a wrapped packet. + +"She who intrusted these papers into my keeping passed on the night of +the new moon." Then, concluding the interview, he added: "Certain +supplies and mules, together with a _makotou_ and three _mafus_, will be +sent to you some time to-morrow. You will then proceed as she directed." + +"I wish to leave immediately," Trent told him. "I am late now." + +"That is quite impossible," answered the mandarin, abruptly. "All is not +ready." + +"But if I was expected before this, then why aren't they ready?" + +The Tchentai was not pleased with that question. The green eyes +flickered. + +"It is enough that I say it is impossible," he replied curtly. "I am +military chief of Tali-fang. My word is law." + +Trent suspected that the Chinaman, knowing he was white, was +deliberately taking the opportunity to display his authority. He was +muscle-sore and brain-tired, and the prospect of spending the night in +this moribund city did not cheer him. With a slight movement he parted +his jacket; the oval of coral lay against his stained skin. + +"Tell his Excellency," he instructed Masein, noticing by Fong Wa's +expression that he saw the pendant, "that I demand the supplies and +pack-animals to-night, now; and if he refuses, I shall report it to one +whose authority reaches many miles beyond Tali-fang." + +Revolutions have been ignited by fewer and less veiled words than +those.... The Chinaman's eyes burned like chrysoprase, and for a moment +the Englishman thought he had lost. Then Fong Wa spoke and Masein +translated. + +"Your threats are useless, yet I will see what I can do." And Masein did +not put into English the _chu-kou_, or pig-dog, that his Excellency +added. + +Trent left the _yamen_ of the military chief in a very troubled state of +mind. He knew he had struck flint--knew also that despite Fong Wa's +evident fear of the "one whose authority reaches many miles beyond +Tali-fang," there were ways and means of diverting circumstance to his +cunning. For himself he had little fear; Dana Charteris was the source +of concern. + +A short distance away, one of the soldiers who had summoned Trent to the +mandarin's house approached and addressed him in very bad English. + +"_Tajen_," he began, "seven days ago a Buddhist priest passed this way +and left a message for you with Fong Wa. Because the Tchentai was angry, +he did not give it to you. For three _taels_ I will steal it and bring +it to you." + +Trent considered a moment before he said-- + +"When you deliver the message to me, I will give you three _taels_." + +This evidently satisfied the soldier, who grinned and hurried off toward +the mandarin's residence. + +"I think we'll leave Tali-fang to-night," Trent informed Dana Charteris +when he reached the _khan_. "It's the wisest move--for more than one +reason. Suppose you rest; we may have to ride into the night, or until +morning." + +The girl shook her head. "I am not tired." + +He saw that the town had tainted her--that she was struggling with one +of those rare moments when glamour tarnished and she was close to +surrender to her feelings. She had shown fine courage during the +journey, flexing herself to meet every circumstance. Pure metal was +behind those eyes. And it amazed him that she could meet the tests of +the wilds and lose none of the feminine. (A romanticist always, this +Trent, seeking in woman those elements that keep her in the vestal +niche.) At times the call of her vibrated through his every nerve--but +he had not forgot the circlet of gold. "Bracelet-brother." That he would +be until they returned to metaled roads and electric-tramways; then the +lover, with the lover's message to deliver.... + +"Don't trouble about me," she said. "When we get into the open spaces +again it will be different; there our lungs won't be poisoned." + +While Masein was cooking the evening meal the soldier who told of the +purloined message appeared and in exchange for three _taels_ pressed a +folded sheet of rice-paper into Trent's hand. By the firelight the +Englishman inspected it. It was written in Urdu and ran: + + They tell a tale of Chunda Ram, the juggler, who made two + cobras dance; of a mongoose that entered a lair and instead of + vipers found a fat-bellied spider; of a lioness that guarded + her whelps. You shall hear it--this tale of tales--from Rabsang + Lama, who has journeyed north, into the falcon's country. + +That was all--no signature. Trent read it and reread it. A fourth time +his eyes traveled over the cryptic lines before he mined their meaning. +Then he chuckled. Kerth--Kerth of many identities--was the lama who had +passed through Tali-fang seven days before, and it was he who arrested +Da-yak and Tambusami. The spider was Li Kwai Kung; the lioness the +British Empire. The message came as a rift in gloom. + +Perceiving the soldier who had brought the missive still standing close +by, he directed a questioning look at him. + +"I would speak with you alone, _Tajen_," he said. + +Trent started to rise, but Masein and the porters were not within +earshot and he decided otherwise. + +"Speak. This"--indicating the girl--"is my brother. What I know he +knows." + +Trent could have sworn that the soldier winked at him slyly as he said +"brother," but it was too dark to be sure. + +"_Tajen_, I came to warn you," he announced. "Fong Wa is not kindly +disposed since your visit. He will send the mules and supplies, because +he is a coward; but he has made it impossible for you to leave the city +to-night. All gates close at sunset, and he has issued an order that no +caravan pass in or out." + +Trent thought for some time before he spoke. Finally: + +"What reason has he to wish to prevent me from leaving to-night?" + +The soldier shrugged. + +"_Ma-chai_," he replied--which is the superlative of indifference. + +That the Oriental had some ulterior motive Trent did not doubt for an +instant. In a land where three thousand years of intrigue has bred a +suspicious people, a kindly act is not the best symptom. He did not +waste words, but asked: + +"Why do you tell me this?" + +Another shrug. "I am _houi-houi_," he explained, that is to say, a +Chinese Mussulman. "Fong Wa is a Lamaist dog. He is a leech that sucks +blood from the people. They hate him. He never pays the soldiers and +many are deserting to go down the Yangtze, where a war is brewing." + +Trent kept silent, waiting to hear the purpose behind this introductory +talk. The soldier was a reckless-looking fellow. The edge of his scant +turban touched eyes that gleamed with a light inherited from a +succession of robber-ancestors. An amiable young villain, he imagined. + +"My name is Kee Meng," the Oriental volunteered. "My father was Tibetan, +my mother Mosso. But I am Yunnanese. Oh, I have traveled much! +Chung-king--even Hankow! I was _makotou_ for an English _Tajenho_ who +went from Liangchowfu to Urga. See,"--he drew a piece of paper from +under his jacket--"this is a letter he wrote saying I was a very fine +_makotou_--only he called me _bashi_--the very best in China. Read it, +_Tajen_." + +Trent took the paper; glanced over it; waited. + +"I will tell you something else, _Tajen_," Kee Meng continued. "Your +_makotou_ and _mafus_ are spies. She who passed on the night of the new +moon told them to watch you and report to her at Shingtse-lunpo. I heard +her. They are dogs and thieves, those muleteers." Then he bent closer, +as though afraid he would be overheard. "_Tajen_, I know the road to +Shingtse-lunpo--I and my three friends. We have been there often to +deliver messages from Fong Wa to the Grand Lama. Fong Wa is a tool of +the lamas. He is a fool. We are tired of Tali-fang, my friends and I. We +will serve you well. We are cheap. Only twenty _taels_ a month. And +look, _Tajen_." + +He turned and called a word, and three blue-jacketed, turbaned soldiers, +each as reckless-looking as Kee Meng, entered and saluted Trent. + +"See? Are they not fine muleteers?" + +Instead of answering, Trent asked a question: + +"What else do you know of her who passed on the night of the new +moon--and a certain bird that roosts in Tibet?" + +"She who passed on the night of the new moon?" the Oriental echoed. "Of +her I know nothing, except that she would spy upon the _Tajen_, who, +according to what she told Fong Wa, is _Tajenho_ in his country. And +the bird--" He looked genuinely puzzled. "There are many birds in +Tibet--kites and vultures! There are yaks, too, if the _Tajen_ wishes to +shoot." + +Satisfied on that score, Trent went on: + +"But what of my muleteers? I can't dismiss them. And if it's impossible +to leave the city to-night--" + +"_Tajen_," Kee Meng broke in, "I know a way. Only speak the word and +your four muleteers will disappear--like that!" And he made a gesture. +"Then we, my friends and I, will lead you out of Tali-fang to-night; and +Fong Wa will not know until it is too late. Once we are beyond the +Yolon-noi, he has no power over us. He is Tchentai of only this +district. By riding all night we would be in Tibet before sunrise--and +there--" He made another gesture. + +"How do I know you're telling the truth?" queried Trent, putting forth a +feeler. A plan was shaping in his mind. He did not look at Dana +Charteris, but he felt her eyes upon him, felt, too, that she read his +thoughts. + +"By Allah!" declared the Mussulman (and a Mussulman's oath to his God is +not so flexible as that of a Buddhist or a Christian). "May I wither and +turn black if I lie!" + +"What of my muleteers?" Trent pursued. + +Kee Meng winked. "Ah, that is easy!" + +"You wouldn't--" + +"Oh no, _Tajen_! We will not kill them!" the soldier exclaimed +virtuously--but he smiled. "There is an unused house near the North +Gate, and under the house is a cellar where opium is stored. We will +hide them there, and they will not be found until morning." + +"But how will we get out of the city?" Trent interrogated. + +"Give me five _taels_ and I will fix it. Mo-su, who guards the North +Gate, is a poor man and a fool. Oh, it is easy if one is clever, as I +am! Your mules and supplies are at the Tchentai's; to reach here they +must pass through dark streets. We are strong.... Then we can take your +caravan to the North Gate, while one of us returns for you. We each have +a mule. Oh yes, it will be easy, _Tajen_!" + +Trent knew Kee Meng's type. "He who would ride a wild camel must first +teach him who is master," says a proverb. These villainous-looking young +brigands could fight--if the proper inducement were provided. It would +be reassuring to know he had allies, few though they were. As for +Sarojini Nanjee--"Set a spy on the heels of a spy," runs another +proverb. It was not breaking his word to her; there was nothing in the +agreement to prevent him from exchanging caravan-men.... Too, he would +feel safer beyond the reach of Fong Wa. He did not like those green +eyes. Yet it was a desperate risk. + +"What do you know of this city, this Shingtse-lunpo?" + +"I know that there are many lamas there, _Tajen_--oh, many, like the +blades of grass! There is a monastery called Lhakang-gompa, whose roofs +are gold and whose walls are as white as the sky at midday! The holy +city of Lhassa is an open book beside it. Soldiers of the Golden Army +guard every approach. There dwells the High Lama of all lamas." + +Trent credited the "roofs of gold" to the elasticity of the native mind. + +"That is strange," he commented, baiting the Mussulman. "If it is so +great a city, then why do not the English, who sent an army to Lhassa +and routed the Dalai Lama, know of it? White men have been in Tibet. If +there is such a city, why has no one heard of it?" + +Kee Meng shrugged. + +"White men have been in Tibet, yes--but not in _that_ part.... Tibet has +its secrets, _Tajen_; she guards them well. My father, who was a +Tibetan, said so." + +After a pause Trent went on: + +"There's nothing to prevent you or your comrades from deserting me when +we get under way. What assurance have I?" + +"We swear by Allah to go with you to Shingtse-lunpo," said Kee Meng, +"and from there wherever you wish to travel--so long as we receive +twenty _taels_ a month and half of the first month's pay in advance +now!" + +Accordingly, Kee Meng's comrades took oath. + +"And obey me," Trent added. + +"And obey you," the Mussulmen repeated. + +Trent reached under his jacket, where his money-belt was concealed, and +counted out twenty-five _taels_. + +"Five for the guard at the gate," he explained, "and five apiece for the +four of you. When we leave Tali-fang you will each receive the other +five agreed upon." + +"_Cheulo!_" agreed Kee Meng. Then he let his eyes rove over the packs +and mules. "Have everything ready in an hour. Fong Wa expects you to try +to leave to-night, so we will take your guides and mules to the gate and +there transfer the packs to the fresh mules, sending back the men and +old mules. If Fong Wa is watching, he will see them and believe you are +returning to the inn. He will be very angry to-morrow, but he will not +dare touch your porters, for they are _yehjen_. Remember--in an hour." + +The villainous-looking quartet quitted the courtyard, and Trent, +watching them go, wondered if he had acted wisely. + +"Your bodyguards when we reach Shingtse-lunpo," he said, turning to Dana +Charteris and smiling slightly; then, glancing at the rice-paper in his +hand, he added: "From Euan Kerth.... He's on the way to the Falcon's +city, as a lama." + + +2 + +At the appointed time Kee Meng returned. + +"All is well, _Tajen_," he told Trent. "My friends are waiting at the +gate, with the caravan." + +The small pack-train was assembled, and they left the inn. Kee Meng +walked beside Trent. The Englishman let one hand rest upon the revolver +strapped to his thigh; the girl riding at his side nervously fingered a +corrugated butt. The streets were dim and for the most part deserted. +Now and then doors opened and eyes peered out, invisible but felt. +Tali-fang lay in a sepulchral hush, its quiet only emphasized by +jingling harness-chains and the dull, muffled beat of hoofs. + +Trent's breathing quickened as they approached the walls. The tunnel +leading to the gate yawned cavernously. In its gloom the pale eye of a +lantern wavered. A mule brayed hideously as they rode into the foul +artery. By the faint rays of the lantern Trent saw mules and ponies, +packs and bulging saddle-bags; saw Kee Meng's villainous-looking +comrades and a gaunt individual whom he imagined was the gateman. Kee +Meng pressed him forward between the ill-smelling beasts. Dana Charteris +was by his side. They dismounted. + +There was a rasping sound and the ponderous gates swung apart. Starlight +gleamed upon spiked panels. Framed in the archway were mountains and +sky--dark loam smeared upon the firmament. A breath of clean air +penetrated into the tunnel. + +"_Tajen_, you and your brother get into the saddles," whispered Kee +Meng. "I will tell your men to wait a few minutes before they go back to +the inn." + +Mule-harness rattled. One of the men uttered a sharp command, and a +protesting quadruped moved through the gateway--another behind it. The +mules were strung together, led by a man on foot. More jingling of +harness; the soft _pad-pad_ of hoofs. + +Dana Charteris was trembling as Trent helped her upon her mount. The +pony's coat was sleek and moist under his touch. He swung into his own +saddle.... The gates closed behind him. A figure that looked like Kee +Meng led the girl's pony forward, after the file of mules. + +They were again in the clean temple of the open spaces. + +... Tali-fang fell away in the rear--a pale blot on the dim shivering +mass of the poppy-fields. They skirted a hamlet not far from the city's +walls. Dogs snarled; once more doors opened.... The ground sloped ever +upward, and from shadowy forests came the healing smell of pines. A +buttressed range impended, its peaks virgin with snow--rugged mountains +where in places the sides were sheer and rose to shuddersome heights. +Toward this mighty chaos of rock--vomit of some earth-ailment--the road +plunged. + +Thus began the Yolon-noi Pass. + +Loose stones rattled under the feet of the animals, and a wind, chilled +in the cisterns of the night, swept down the canyon, shaking the scraggly +growths and animating the shadows. The pass had narrowed to a mere rift +where not more than four men could ride abreast. It seemed a place of +shrieking demons when a mule brayed, for the wind snatched up the sound +and carried it from boulder to boulder, until it perished in a weird +echo upon the serrated ridges. + +Just before midnight the moon rose and sent the gloom scurrying, and +jackals laughed as though to mock the terrors that a moment ago seemed +so real. Moonlight shone on scintillant rock; the loftiest, snow-capped +peaks gleamed like palest nacre.... Trent rode beside Dana Charteris. +The caravan-men and the pack-animals were ahead, moving with a slow, +uneven rhythm, the long line of laden beasts casting distorted shadows +upon the road. + +"O Arnold Trent, I could cry for sheer joy!" whispered the girl. "Can't +you feel the night singing in your veins? Tibet! To think I should ever +reach it!" + +Trent's throat tightened, and the wind sang one word--_Tibet! +Tibet!_--over and over in his ears. He rode on, so flooded with awe, +with an overwhelming sense of majesty, that it was impossible to speak. +Presently the girl, obeying an impulse, tore off her turban. Her hair +tumbled over her shoulders, and the wind caught truant strands and made +sport of them. + +Through the night they traveled; traveled until the high walls broke up +into lower ridges and ravines; until the moon rolled over the peaks and +into oblivion, and the stars passed, as tapers that grow dim and die. +The gorge opened its mouth into a valley that lay between green, +snow-tipped mountains. With dawn they came to a halt, and the muleteers +set up the shelters. The girl, tired from the long ride, fell asleep +almost instantly, but Trent sat in front of his tent for nearly an hour, +smoking and gazing into the haze of ruddy gold that hid the City of the +Falcon. + + +3 + +Looking back upon the journey to Shingtse-lunpo, Trent saw it in a +series of pictures--the days painted with vivid, glaring pigments, the +nights pasteled in blended hues. It was not the Tibet of his +imagination, the Tibet of drear, waterless stretches shut in by +bastioned mountains, unscalable, snow-helmeted guards. True, for two +days after the passing of the Chino-Tibetan divide and the Mekong (they +were swung across this great river, at a giddy height, on a rope bridge) +bleak ranges lifted themselves in heaps of purple and dun, crowned with +flame as the sun gilded their snowy ramparts; but after that the ground +was mildly undulating--nullahs and hills and thin forests. + +The fourth day marked their entrance into a country of little +vegetation, a world of dull tints--those lifeless shades of brown found +in a camel's coat. The earth was sterile; even the sky seemed +unyielding, an aching womb of light. Fine dust settled upon the body and +in the nostrils and throat. + +Of people they saw comparatively little. The villages generally +consisted of a huddle of houses close to a spur of ground, upon the +highest point of which a lamasery perched, like a _laemmergier_ hovering +over mulch and decay. The lamas, Trent learned, were of the Yellow Cap +Order--a sullen, suspicious lot. + +Trent tried, whenever it was practicable, to avoid human beings; he was +not so much afraid of the penetrability of his own disguise as that of +the girl. The caravans they encountered now and then--strings of men and +mules and yaks--were a constant dread to him; not the Tibetans (they +were a careless, friendly type, these men and women of Kham), but the +priests who usually accompanied them. In every instance the lamas +inquired through Kee Meng the destination of the pack-train. + +The wind was usually chilling, except at midday when the earth quivered +behind a brassy curtain of mirage and the glare of sunlight on +quartz-like rocks was blinding. Sunset--a phenomenon of Tibet--was a +source of never-ending wonder to both Trent and Dana Charteris. It +flared in five distinct bars, like a crimson aurora, and died away when +dusk swept a mauve brush across the west. Nightfall brought bitter +winds. Stars glittered coldly, points of whitest flame; and when the +moon came out it glistened like an icy planet reeling through space. + +Trent grew to trust Kee Meng and his comrades--to a degree. It was a +common occurrence for him to catch one or the other stealing from the +provisions, and more than once he discovered gold and turquoise +ornaments filched from a temple in some village where they remained +overnight. Twice Trent's electric pocket-lamp disappeared, only to be +found each time among the possessions of Kee Meng, who burned with a +steady passion to own it. Trent maintained rigid discipline over his +quartet of genial young brigands, who would have been impossible to rule +otherwise; and whereas they learned he was master of the caravan and to +be obeyed at all times, he could not tear down the walls of instinct +which generations of _hung-hu-tzee_ ancestors had fixed so immovably in +them. + +... The journey wove into a tapestry of monotonous colors stretching +over a loom of many days, and through it all, like a silver thread, ran +his association with Dana Charteris. His every chord of feeling +responded to the age-old symphony of a woman unfolding to a man (the +glorious hymn of the universe).... He knew there were times, after he +had wrapped himself in his blanket for the night, that she wept from +sheer exhaustion, tortured physically by the hard travel and mentally by +the ever-present portent of danger which the very atmosphere seemed to +speak. But not once did he see evidence of it, nor did she complain. +After a day of riding, himself sweaty and caked with dust, his every +sinew strained to the utmost, the moral effect of her presence was a +narcotic. + +Despite the discomforts and the uncertainty of what lay ahead, something +serene came to him out of the silence. He saw it in the girl's eyes, +too--this intangible thing that the far spaces breed in the hearts of +men and that lies slumbering until they have returned to civilization, +where, in the midst of crowded, suffocating cities, it awakens suddenly, +drawing them back to the trackless wastes they once had hated and +cursed. The intense light on the hills; the glow of firelight in the +dusk; the cry of a wolf wavering through the night--they were the small +incidents that would cling to the memory and, later, seem the salient +features of a weird, fascinating scroll of recollections. + + * * * * * + +Green-roofed temples and whitewashed lamaseries daily became more +numerous. They squatted on every eminence and were habited by +crimson-togaed monks--hundreds of men and boys who rattled +prayer-wheels and muttered "_Om mani Padme hums_" before greasy idols. +The presence of women in those lamaist communities ceased to be a +novelty; rather, a question. They were not unlovely, in their loose +garments and turquoise-studded bandeaus, but their instinctive hostility +toward any form of ablution disqualified them from meeting Western +standards of beauty. + +Thus the journey wore on, and thus, on the evening of the seventh day, +they camped on the edge of a marshy lake, within view of scarped hills +behind which Shingtse-lunpo, the mysterious, lay. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CITY OF THE FALCON + + +Dawn gave birth to a day that for Trent and Dana Charteris was +surcharged with expectancy and apprehension. Ridges broke up the +horizon, hiding the country beyond, as though fate and nature had +conspired to preclude until the last moment a view of Shingtse-lunpo. +Before another night they should be within the walls of the city. + +Just before noon they rode over a crest and saw a high _tchorten_, or +rock pyramid. Yak-hair tents were pitched at its base, and a band of +men, mounted on white ponies and carrying yellow-pennoned lances, +clattered across the valley to meet them. + +"They are soldiers of the Golden Army," Kee Meng announced. + +As the horsemen drew nearer, Trent could see that they wore +neutral-colored tunics and black leather caps, the latter having a strap +under the chin and a golden, flame-shaped ornament attached to the top. +Gold-hilted swords glittered in black belts, and several of the men +carried queer, ancient-looking guns embossed with turquoise and coral. +They came up in a cloud of dust, like figures riding out of history, and +the leader stuck out his tongue by way of greeting. He examined their +passports and assigned two soldiers--"to accompany us to Amber Bridge," +Kee Meng explained. + +With their escort they rode on toward the heat-twisted, quivering +horizon that, in its very illusiveness, symbolized the uncertainty that +filled both Trent and the girl. Neither spoke, but sat erect on their +mounts, staring steadily, until their eyes ached, into the white +sunlight. + +The hot midday was waning when they reached the top of a shoulder of +ground and looked upon the city. At first it was a long white blur upon +the distant ranges, separated from the plain that surrounded it by a +belt of green; then it assumed shape and form, and they saw it, walls +and golden roofs, floating like a fabulous Atlantis in the liquid +sunlight. A white bulk, seeming the extravagant creation of a mirage, +towered above the walls. Gradually it emerged from the deceptive +heat-waves and stood out, defined, a massive building, dominating the +crenellated heap of masonry at its feet. The city's ramparts were high, +yielding only a glimpse of roof-tops and the buttressed structure that +was silhouetted in blinding white upon the aquamarine sky. + +"The great building," said Kee Meng, "is Lhakang-gompa, of which I told +you--the palace and temple of the Grand Lama." + +As they rode nearer, passing barley fields and isolated groups of +houses, it became evident that the belt of green encircling +Shingtse-lunpo was a marsh. Apparently an outer fortification at one +time stood in the swamp, for piles of broken stone reared themselves at +intervals from the rush-encumbered quagmires, like the bones of a +half-buried and bleaching skeleton. On the edge of the morass, flung +across a stream, was a bridge; a stone causeway, perhaps a mile in +length, linked it with what Trent imagined was the main gate of the city +proper. The bridge itself--"Amber Bridge," Kee Meng had called it--was +of mellowed stone, its enclosing walls supporting a roof glazed with +tiles and inset with great lumps of raw amber. Prayer-flags drooped from +the top. + +Thus Shingtse-lunpo, the City of the Falcon, revealed herself to them +for the first time, like an orient dream-city in the golden noonday. + +As they approached Amber Bridge, two familiar lines sprang into Trent's +mind and repeated themselves over and over: + + With gilded gates and sunny spires ablaze, + And burnished domes half seen through luminous haze. + +In the silence, sovereign but for the footfalls of the animals and the +creak of sweaty saddles, he heard the swift breathing of the girl who +rode at his side--saw the wonderment, the expression of fascination, of +awe, that reflected in her face. Brown eyes were deep with mystery. + +At the bridge they were halted by more leather-helmeted guards who, +after glancing at their passports, held a short conversation with the +two soldiers from the outpost, then explained, through the usual channel +of translation, that Trent's caravan would have to remain at Amber +Bridge until the news of their arrival was communicated to "certain +authorities" in the city. + +A soldier dashed off along the causeway, while Trent, vaguely troubled, +allowed his pony to be led into a mud-walled compound at one side of the +road. There he and the other members of the caravan dismounted, and +there they waited, somewhat apprehensive, for over an hour. + +When the messenger returned he was accompanied by a small cortege, all +soldiers but one, who, from his dress, was a dignitary of the city. He +rode a white horse and wore a robe of orange-yellow brocaded silk, its +wide sleeves faced with peacock-blue. A mushroom-shaped hat surmounted +copper-hued Tibetan features. He greeted Trent very graciously in +English and informed him that he was Na-chung, a member of the Higher +Council, that meaning, he explained, those who assisted the Governor. He +said that no doubt it was surprising to hear him speak English, but that +he had learned it from a British officer at Gyangtse, at the time of the +expedition to Lhassa.... His Transparency the Governor, he stated, had +been expecting him for several days and his delay had caused his +Transparency no small concern. Then he looked over Trent's men--and when +his eyes reached Dana Charteris they halted. It was, for Trent, a +breathless moment. But Na-chung smiled amiably and said: + +"I understood there were to be only _four_ caravaneers. You have +_five_." + +Trent replied that none of the four assigned to him at Tali-fang spoke +Tibetan--and how could he travel in Tibet without an interpreter? +Therefore, he had presumed to add another to his caravan.... + +Na-chung continued to smile. "I see," he commented. "And this is the one +you added?"--with a gesture toward the girl. + +"No," returned Trent. "This one"--indicating Kee Meng. + +"I see," repeated Na-chung. "We shall go into the city now, to the house +which the Governor has provided for you." + +The incident at Amber Bridge had a depressing effect upon Trent and he +scarcely heard the inconsequential talk of Na-chung as they moved slowly +over the causeway toward the ramparts of Shingtse-lunpo. But when they +passed the gates--formidable, iron-studded affairs, with turrets at +either side--his fears were temporarily thrust into the background. For +the walls of Shingtse-lunpo only hinted at what they enclosed. + +Beyond the main town, which sloped down into a depression and was a +wilderness of narrow streets and dazzling whitewashed houses (some +roofed with blue tiles, others with burnished gold), the ground rose to +the one dominating structure--the Lamasery that stood, sheer-walled, +upon sharply truncated rocks. Its massive bulk--longer than two city +blocks, Trent hazarded--was pierced by row upon row of windows that +seemed no larger than loopholes, and naked walls fell away from torn +roofs and terrace-like additions. There were other large buildings and +tiers of houses, the doors of the upper rows opening upon the roofs of +those below, but they cowered beneath the regal mass of Lhakang-gompa, +an architectural masterpiece that rose at least two hundred feet from +its natural foundations and which Trent could compare only with the +descriptions he had heard of the Potala at Lhassa. + +From the main gate the road cleaved between brick-walled enclosures and +hedges of bamboo. Beggars, ragged, repulsive-looking creatures, whined +at the roadside, and dogs and swine nosed in the black, bubbling mud of +the gutters. Blenching human bones lay beside discolored slabs of stone, +and mailed dragonflies, drawn by the smell of carrion flesh, hovered +near.[1] + +[Footnote 1: In Tibet it is the custom to deliver the dead to a sect of +professional body-hackers, who, in turn, feed the remains to the dogs +and vultures. Thus merit is acquired by the family of the deceased.] + +From this filthy quarter they passed over another bridge and into a +highway that lay in the shadows of fortress-like buildings. It was +crowded with tonsured, magenta-robed priests. Mounted soldiers, the +majority in neutral-tinted tunics, but some few wearing royal-blue and +apricot-hued uniforms, threaded across the crimson swarm in a human +shuttle, while men and women in less gaudy apparel moved inconspicuously +through the throng. Yak-hair curtains and prayer-flags drooped from the +windows of houses. + +"You arrived at a time of celebration," said Na-chung. "The Feast of the +Sacred Dance began yesterday. To-day the races were held on the Field of +Ceremonies, and to-morrow will be celebrated by the Dance of the Gods, +wrestling-bouts and the archery contest." + +Na-chung proved most voluble. He talked on as they forsook the crowded +street for a quarter close to the lamasery. The soldiers, who were +leading, opened a gate in a high white wall, and the caravan moved into +a flagged court. + +The dwelling was typical of the better Tibetan residences, low and +flat-roofed, and in the shape of a quadrangle. To the left, beyond a +huddle of out-houses, was a garden. Willow-thorn, clematis +and--hollyhocks! The scarlet flowers, pure flame in the sunlight, gave +something of warming welcome to Trent. + +Na-chung led the way into the house. The main hall was dank, like an +empty cistern, and lighted by an opening in the ceiling, which served a +twofold purpose in that it was also a means of reaching the upper floor. +There were little or no furnishings, and narrow passages, black with +gloom, led off from it. + +"It would be advisable," said Na-chung as he prepared to leave, "that +you do not leave your courtyard; that is, until you have been provided +with proper garments. I shall acquaint his Transparency with your +presence, and in the morning one will be sent to"--the councillor +smiled--"to remove your beard and clothe you as befits a member of the +Higher Council. To-morrow I shall return and accompany you to the Court +of Ceremonies, after which his Transparency will no doubt receive you." +Then, following a pause, "It has been deemed advisable to elevate you to +membership in the Higher Council--for appearances only, as your duties +will be quite different from those of a councillor." + +He took his leave then, and Trent accompanied him into the court. He +observed that Na-chung left two leather-helmeted soldiers at the gate, +whether to act as bodyguards, or to see that he did not leave the +grounds, he could only surmise. + + +2 + +Trent and Dana Charteris made a thorough inspection of the house. The +rooms were clean, as clean as Tibetan rooms ever are; but the lack of +proper ventilation and the ever-present stale-sweet odors did little to +invite occupancy. From the roof the monastery and a portion of the town +could be seen, and there, in a space protected by the high masonry that +enclosed the housetop, the girl decided to quarter herself, while Trent +chose the room directly beneath. + +Before sundown, while Dana Charteris was overseeing the transportation +of her packs to her elevated abode, Trent sought Kee Meng and found him +in the quadrangle. + +"I am going to place my brother in your charge," he announced. "I will +probably be away from him much of the time, and if anything happens to +him--" He chose to leave the sentence unfinished. (Trent always spoke of +the girl as his "brother," although it was tacitly understood that Kee +Meng knew she was not a man.) + +"_Cheulo!_" responded the Mussulman. "Henceforth, instead of _makotou_, +I am Protector-of-the-Brother!" + +"And furthermore," Trent added, "I forbid you, or any of the men, to +leave the grounds without my permission." + +Later (dusk had swooned on Shingtse-lunpo), as Trent entered the main +hall, which was unlighted except for a brass butter-lamp, he beheld a +naked brown ankle and the bottom of a red robe as they vanished into one +of the several black cavities opening upon the chamber. He stopped--then +quickly backing to one side, against the wall, he drew his revolver and +edged toward the passageway. When he was yet a few feet away a round, +blue muzzle leaped out to meet him. As he recoiled, the owner of the +ankle and robe, a lama with a very modern automatic gripped in one slim +hand, stepped out. They stood motionless for a space of seconds, each +with weapon lifted. Then a familiar satanic smile traced itself upon the +yellow countenance--a smile that made the lama look Mephistophelian, +despite his shorn head and hairless features. + +"Kerth"--as Trent lowered his revolver, smiling. "Always at +pistol-point...." + +"I was beginning to feel uneasy about you," said Euan Kerth, as their +hands met. "It was a relief when I saw your pack-train ride in to-day. +Where can we go to talk--the garden? I came that way." + +They left the house by a black-dark corridor, making their way into the +grove of willow-thorn. Bright stars peered down through the branches, +and the moon, floating above the white wall, reflected a faint, hazy +light among the shadowy trees. + +"I'd almost given you up," Kerth began, halting in the gloom beside the +wall. "You were due over a week ago." + +Trent had been debating with himself since the meeting in the house. Now +he spoke; told Kerth of Dana Charteris; of the meeting in Calcutta and +the subsequent happenings. Kerth saw a story within a story and surmised +certain things that Trent omitted. He was silent for a while after the +latter finished. + +"It complicates matters, of course," he ventured discreetly, at length, +"yet ... hmm ... no, you had no alternative. She had nerve, all right; +how many women would have dared to do that? Damn these meddling police +agents! If it hadn't been for her brother.... Hmm--and he had the Pearl +Scarf!" A pause. "D'ye think Sarojini knows of her presence?" + +"Miss Charteris? How could she?" Then Trent explained how he had +exchanged muleteers at Tali-fang. + +"Good!" exclaimed Kerth. "Good! That's a score against Sarojini. She'll +raise thundering hell when she learns of it, but I think you can tame +her--yes, you can do it." + +"But tell me what happened at Myitkyina"--this from Trent. + +The other shrugged. "Oh, nothing much. I had suspected we were headed +for Tibet since I learned the character of the god on the symbol of the +Order--yet this"--he made a gesture intended to include the city--"well, +this is a bit beyond my imagination." + +Briefly he then sketched his activities at Myitkyina. + +"I followed you and Da-yak to the river that night, then downstream in +another boat. After you had landed, and your servant, Tambusami, in +another boat, I swam ashore. There was one fellow waiting with the +boats, so I slipped up behind him.... After that it wasn't difficult. I +exchanged clothing with him and waited. Sarojini Nanjee, dressed as a +Kachin, returned in a few minutes, and with her, Da-yak, Tambusami and +the boatmen. She and the Kachins took one of the craft downstream, I +suppose to her camp, and Da-yak and your bearer got into the other +boat--the boat where I was waiting. I'd sent a note to Warburton, the C. +O. at Myitkyina, and he was waiting at the landing with several Gurkhas. +We didn't have any trouble arresting them; the trouble came when we +tried to force them to speak. All summed up, what they said was +surprisingly little. Tambusami declared he was simply a servant and knew +nothing about the Order, except that it existed. But Da-yak told where +you had gone, and said there were three men in Myitkyina who knew the +trail to Tali-fang. One of them I later hired. Da-yak said that up until +a year ago he had a shop in the bazaar at Shingtse-lunpo, which he +described as 'a great city where many lamas live'; that he was commanded +by a Grand Lama to go to Myitkyina and establish a business. He was +instructed to obey all who came to him with a certain symbol--the symbol +of the Order. He swore he knew nothing of the Falcon or the jewels." + +Kerth paused; peered into Trent's face; smiled. + +"You're thinking just as I wish you to think," he observed; then went +on: "Meanwhile, I'd reported the place in Calcutta and it had been +raided. What happened I don't know. I was ready to start for +Shingtse-lunpo the day after you left, but of course Delhi waited a +couple of days to telegraph permission--and I was glad enough to get it +then, for I was half afraid the Viceroy would refuse to let me go into +Tibet. At Tali-fang I learned you hadn't passed and I left a +message--you received it?... Eighteen days later I was inside the walls +of Shingtse-lunpo--and paying homage to his Holiness Sakya-muni, the +Buddha reincarnated." + +"You mean," Trent interrogated, "there's a lama here who's supposed to +be a reincarnation of Buddha?" + +Kerth nodded. "That's his palace"--indicating Lhakang-gompa. "Oh, we've +stumbled into a jolly little nest! It'll take your breath when I tell +you everything. This--Shingtse-lunpo--is everything that Lhassa was, and +a hundred things that Lhassa never could be, with Lhassa's secretiveness +and holiness intensified to the nth degree. It's the--well, I suppose +one might call it the secret capital of the Lamaist hierarchy. From all +I can learn, it hasn't always had the great significance and power that +it has now; until a few years ago it was simply the home of a Grand Lama +who ranked with the Tarnath Lama. Nobody knew of it, because explorers +haven't covered this part of Tibet; the nearest anybody ever came to +this particular strip of territory was some time ago when a naturalist +made his way into Kham, and again, later, when an American doctor went +to a place called Chiamdo.... They say the Dalai Lama actually hid here, +in Lhakang-gompa (which, incidentally, is a facsimile of the Potala at +Lhassa, which I saw with the Mission) before he went to Urga. But that's +monkish gossip.... At any rate, here's how I interpret affairs from all +I've heard: + +"After the Mission was sent to Lhassa the Dalai Lama lost a certain +amount of prestige. The authority of the Tashi Lama, as you probably +know, is more spiritual than temporal. Englishmen had been to Lhassa and +to Tashi-lunpo; therefore, both of their holy-of-holies had been +profaned. The lamas--that is, the hierarchy--were losing their hold on +the people. All that was before nineteen-twelve. Then the President of +China restored Tubdan Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, to Lhassa. But even that +failed to revive the old zeal. So a _coup d'etat_ was planned. A Grand +Lama had a made-to-order vision in which he saw the soul of Gaudama +Siddartha descend into the body of one of the abbots. From that moment +the abbot was Sakya-muni, Buddha reincarnated, and they installed him in +Lhakang-gompa, here in Shingtse-lunpo, the secret city _par excellence_ +of Tibet. Lhassa and the Dalai Lama became figureheads--'to fool the +British,' as one priest put it to me. The monasteries of Sera, Debung +and Gaden, hotbeds of political intrigue in the time of the Dalai Lama +and the Buriat, Dorjieff, were no longer powerful, but subservient to +Lhakang-gompa. I understand the Tashi Lama objected to all this, but the +Yellow Caps over-ruled him.... So now Sakya-muni, with the Lamaist +hierarchy behind him, is supreme pontiff of the Church--and +Lhakang-gompa is the Vatican, as it were, from which he rules Tibet and +practically all of Mongolia, with certain _sub rosa_ wires that give him +power in Nepal, Sikkhim, Bhutan and parts of China." + +Trent was staring up through the branches at the stars, but as Kerth +stopped he looked down and asked: + +"Didn't you say you had an audience with him?" + +Kerth's shaven skull nodded. "Yes. The Living Buddha wears a veil at all +ceremonies--too holy for mortal eyes, I fancy. Of course the Grand Lamas +have seen his face, but in the presence of the laity he is always +veiled. I attended what might be called pontifical mass. In company with +a number of pilgrim priests--at Shingtse-lunpo for the Feast of the +Sacred Dance--I was conducted through a veritable labyrinth in the +monastery and to a huge cathedral-like place. Sakya-muni, in yellow +robes and with a golden veil over his face, sat on a throne at one end. +Many cardinals and high officials were there, including the Great +Magician of Shingtse-lunpo. After the ceremony the Living Buddha +murmured something about '_Om, Ah, Hum_' and blessed a lot of red +scarves, or _katags_ as they're called, and distributed them among the +pilgrim priests. Then we left." + +In the pause that followed Trent inserted: + +"What of the jewels?" + +Another shrug from Kerth. "If they're in Shingtse-lunpo, they are well +hidden and their presence isn't widely known." + +"Yet--" But Trent checked himself. + +"Yet Sarojini Nanjee said they were here," Kerth finished up. "I know +it. The fact that I haven't learned anything about them doesn't mean +they aren't here." + +"And you haven't seen Sarojini?" + +"If I did, it was without my knowledge." + +"Or--Chavigny?" + +Kerth laughed quietly. "If I didn't _know_ he existed, I'd believe him a +myth. No, I haven't seen Chavigny, nor heard of him, for that matter, +since I entered the city. But that's not queer, for if he were here he +wouldn't advertise the fact." + +Trent motioned toward the lamasery. "Do you suppose he had a hand in the +jewel affair?" + +"Who? Sakya-muni? If not, why were the gems brought to Shingtse-lunpo? +And remember: a _Grand Lama_ sent Da-yak to Myitkyina." + +"But--" + +"I agree with you," Kerth cut in, anticipating him. "It _is_ +preposterous. It's evident that Chavigny has the alliance of the lamas, +but how did he get it? I haven't told you the strongest link in that +chain yet. You'll recall that a Grand Lama from a Tibetan monastery +emulated the example of the Tashi Lama and made a pilgrimage to the +Sacred Bo-tree at Gaya just about the time the gems were stolen?" + +Trent's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. + +"Precisely," continued Kerth, reading the other's thoughts. "I believe +the lamas who pilgrimaged to Buddh-Gaya carried the jewels out of +India. I have foundation for this theory, too. Since my arrival here +I've learned that a number of the monks who went on that pilgrimage were +from Shingtse-lunpo--and they haven't returned yet!" + +Trent was subconsciously following a detached idea. He remembered that +the priests were at Gaya on the night Manlove was murdered, and if their +purpose was that suggested by Kerth, it furnished a reason for Chavigny +being there.... + +"Nor is that all I know," Kerth resumed. "Caravan-loads of rifles have +been brought here from Mongolia--_Russian_ rifles--also gunpowder and +dynamite. They're stored in the armory under the monastery. Has that any +significance to you?... Trent, we may yet bring down a brace of birds +when we only expected to pot one.... I'm more than a little concerned +with Sarojini Nanjee; I can't adjust her with this business. What are +her secret strings that give her so much power? What can she expect to +do alone? She has a trump card up her sleeve, mark my words. She's no +fool, and I'd feel deucedly better if I were certain she was going to +play that card for us." + +"She promised," Trent reminded. + +Kerth smiled wryly, but the smile passed quickly. + +"Captain Manlove?" he queried. "You've learned nothing?" + +Trent shook his head. The silence after that was heavy. Kerth ended it. + +"I can't stay any longer now. I'm cultivating the abbot of one of the +lesser monasteries, with the view of eventually being assigned to a cell +in Lhakang-gompa. I've a suspicion I'll find something of interest +there, if I ever get in. I daresay you're scheduled to witness the +ceremonies to-morrow, so I won't have an opportunity to see you until +to-morrow night, but I'll return then, about this hour." He extended his +lean hand. "Here's luck to you!" + +"The same," Trent responded with a smile, gripping his hand. "How'd you +get in?" + +Kerth indicated the wall. "Give me a lift, will you?" + +Trent clasped his hands, and, by stepping into the foothold thus formed, +Kerth was able to grasp the top of the wall and draw himself up. There +he sat for a moment, looking below on the other side; then, with a wave +of farewell, he dropped from sight. + +Trent returned to the house, passing the muleteers who were gathered +about a fire in the quadrangle, and climbed to the roof. Dana Charteris +was there--but asleep. For a space of seconds he stood looking down at +the slim form. Her head was pillowed upon one arm and utter weariness +lined the features that were revealed in the moonlight--pale, starry +features. He felt a warm rush of sympathy, a moment when he loathed +himself for having brought her into danger.... He turned away, moving +quietly to the shaft. + +At the top of the ladder he paused. The city lay before him, patches of +gloom and shadow, beneath the dark bulk of the lamasery. To think that +there, among those huddled buildings, was a key to the riddle--a +solution that would dispel the nebulous clouds, perhaps clear the +mystery of Manlove's death! + +A wave of the old bitterness swept up through him; swept up and cast his +features into a mold of grim resolution. + + +3 + +The next morning Trent told Dana Charteris of his talk with Euan Kerth; +also, that Kee Meng was to be her bodyguard. + +"But surely I can leave the compound?" she objected. "I would like to +see the festival to-day--and, oh, it would be frightful here, waiting, +with nothing to do! I'd worry about you every moment, yet with something +to distract me ... don't you see?" + +He considered a long time before he decided. + +"I'm afraid it wouldn't be wise. There's no accounting for what might +happen, and then...." He made a movement as though to furrow his hair, +but instead passed his hand over his turban. "I'm sorry, but the risk is +too great. You won't go, will you?" + +She promised. + +Shortly before noon Na-chung, accompanied by his escort, arrived. The +Tibetan superintended the transformation of Trent from a Hindu merchant +to a lamaist dignitary. It was after one o'clock when the Englishman, +shaved and dressed like Na-chung--orange-yellow robe, mushroom hat and +all--mounted a pony in the quadrangle, and, with the councillor at his +side and a file of helmeted soldiers behind, clattered away from the +house. As he passed out of the gate he looked back for a glimpse of Dana +Charteris, but did not see her. A vague sense of unrest enclosed him. + +Toward Lhakang-gompa they rode, through swarms that pressed eagerly in +the direction of the monastery. Prayer-flags were festooned from house +to house, and women sat by the roadside selling dried fruit and +sweetmeats. + +In the very shadow of the monster building, where the rocks fell away +from its base, they dismounted. The serrated facade piled itself above +them in a series of inward-sloping ledges, reaching a shuddersome height +before it met the helium-like blaze of golden roofs. The soldiers +remained with the horses, while Na-chung led Trent through a gate and a +courtyard--the latter a veritable abyss between the main building and +outer walls--and into a dark corridor that reeked with rancid odors. + +Thus began a journey that carried them through dim chambers and black +halls; through cloisters heavy with incense and faintly lighted rooms +where lamas, sitting before prayer-wheels, murmured passages from +Buddhist scriptures; through courts that were cool and sunk deep in the +shadow of lofty walls; until, at length, they came out into bright +sunlight. + +At first the intense glare stung Trent's eyes, but gradually he became +accustomed to it and saw that they had emerged on the other side of the +lamasery and were upon a gallery overlooking a huge amphitheater. He +hazarded a guess that it measured about half a mile around. An incline +led down from the gallery, between rows of seats and stalls, and along +this slanting aisle and into a box close to the immense center court +Na-chung conducted him. There, seated on cushions beside the councillor, +he had an opportunity fully to absorb the bewildering spectacle. + +Tier after tier of stalls and terraced seats were packed against the +retaining walls. Marquees of striped silk, flying maroon and +flame-colored flags, had been erected around the edge of the arena. In +the far end stood a gilded, silk-draped proscenium, and raised upon it, +under a gold-fringed canopy, was a dais. On either side of the platform, +herded together and kept within their boundaries by guards armed with +halberds, were hundreds of lamas--patches of cinnabar-red. At the left +of the arena, starkly silhouetted upon the walls, was a line of stakes; +their purpose puzzled Trent. Every available space, except the vast +center-court and the proscenium, was crowded with richly dressed +onlookers. There were Tibetan dukes and duchesses, the turquoise-studded +aureoles of the latter gleaming like blue fire; soldiers and government +dignitaries; high lamas wearing saffron vestments, and novices in red +togas; pilgrims from Ladak, Nepal, Sikkhim, Bhutan, Kham and Mongolia; +men and women garbed in silks and satins and decked with jewels. The +many-hued robes and the colored banners and standards--gold, cerise, +ocher, lavender-blue and neutral-tint predominating--were like vivid +splashes on a giant palette. + +The box where Trent and Na-chung sat was one of a row that was occupied +by men in the orange-yellow robes and mushroom hats of the Higher +Council. Many of these bronze-faced dignitaries were accompanied by +women in maroon garments and silver coral-adorned aureoles. Inquisitive +eyes were turned toward Trent and Na-chung, and the latter bowed and +smiled. + +"Yonder," explained the Tibetan, indicating a long carpet of imperial +yellow that dazzled from a flight of stone steps at one side of the +arena to the proscenium in the remote end, "is where His Holiness will +walk. And that"--inclining his head toward a nearby stall where a +prelate in claret-colored garments sat in the midst of shaven-pated +satellites--"is the Great Magician. It is rumored that he and His +Holiness have--er--had some misunderstanding." + +Thus he gossiped while Trent, searching the ranks of the laity below for +a familiar face and aware of something imminent and compelling in the +subdued buzzing of many voices, listened only half attentively. + +Without warning a trumpet gave voice to a blast. It seemed to inject a +sudden thrill into the atmosphere. Trent felt his muscles grow tense, +and involuntarily his eyes sought the broad stone stairway. + +At the top yak-hair curtains parted for a moment and a group of heralds +bearing long copper horns filed out. Came another blast, monstrously +loud. A shout rose from the multitude; died. Trent heard a faint, minor +chant--coming from behind the yak-hair curtains, he imagined. When this +intoning ceased, trumpets blared again; the curtains at the stairhead +parted. + +Hushed expectancy shut down like a tangible weight. The rapid play of +sunlight on lances and bare blades, on burnished helmets and golden +accoutrements, seemed a visible manifestation of the feverish intensity +that charged the throng. The majority were standing with bowed heads; +some had prostrated themselves. Anticipation transfigured every face. + +Then the head of the pontifical procession came into view. + +Leading were the lictors, with lamaic emblems; then acolytes with golden +censers and chalices. They moved slowly down the steps and along the +yellow carpet. Following them strode the secular lords and +cardinals--bronze-faced prelates in rich, deep-yellow robes and yellow +mitres. Laymen marched at their heels, carrying silken cushions. + +And toward the rear, beneath a golden state-umbrella, attended by Grand +Lamas of the Gelugpa, walked the reincarnation of Gaudama Siddartha, His +Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naksang Sakya-muni, the Yellow Pope of Tibet. He +bore the insignia of his pontifical rank in one hand, in the other a +rosary. A mitre was set upon his head. From beneath this peaked hat fell +a golden veil that shimmered in the sunlight and blended with the +yellow-gold pallium and wide stole that hung from his shoulders. + +The living deity moved slowly over the yellow carpet; mounted the +proscenium; sank cross-legged, hands folded, like a Buddha, upon the +dais. + +Banners and standards were lifted in salute above the countless faces +that blurred against the terraced seats. A detachment of soldiers in +lavender-blue uniforms and brazen helmets clattered out of a door in the +arena and formed a line in front of the gilded proscenium. Flash of +sunlight on helmets and lifted lances; gleam of wrought gold and brazen +accoutrements; a rippling play of gold. Then horses were wheeled, and +the Tibetan cavalry trotted out of the arena. + +Sakya-muni removed his mitre. Which proved a signal for the ceremonies +to begin. + +A clarion blare announced a new group of lamas--priests wearing white +robes and hideous masks, representing mythological demons. They paid +obeisance to the supreme pontiff and gathered at one side of the +proscenium. After them came other lamas, in golden harness and mantles +the flame hue of nasturtiums. + +"They are the ancient warriors," explained Na-chung to Trent. "And +those"--waving his hand toward another group that was debouching from a +gateway below the tiered seats--"are the contestants in the wrestling +matches." + +The sinewy Tibetan gladiators saluted Sakya-muni. They wore only pelts +of snow-leopards girded about their hips. Their skin, between knees and +throat, was surprisingly fair. The wrestling tourney lasted for over two +hours. Na-chung explained every detail to Trent who, toward the end of +the lengthy show of physical skill, was growing weary of it. Too, his +eyes ached from looking so long and steadily at the sunlit expanse. + +When the wrestlers left the arena, hidden drums rumbled--throbbed out a +tuneless miserere. Cymbals clashed metallically. A discordant blast of +the trumpets whipped the air and a lama wearing a frightful mask with +yak-horns upon it and tiger-skins flapping over his yellow robes moved +toward the proscenium. He held a skull-bowl above him. Suddenly he +paused and dashed its contents to the flagging, where it spread in an +ugly crimson pool. Another burst of trumpets accompanied this. + +"It is the Dance of the Gods," Na-chung told Trent. + +A faint light showed itself in the councillor's eyes. Trent saw the same +glow in the eyes of those around him--a glimmer of fanatical zeal. + +The white-robed lamas danced into the center of the arena; whirled +about, making strange signs; swayed to the monotonous _boom-booming_ of +the drums. The priests garbed as ancient warriors joined in, their +nasturtium-hued mantles and golden harness aquiver like sinuous flames. +As the dance continued, pilgrims frequently leaped up and prostrated +themselves, intoxicated with a mystical vintage. Even Trent was not +immune to infection. The drums throbbed against his heart and temples; +throbbed and throbbed, until they seemed the pulse of a dull delirium. + +The Dance of the Gods was interminably long and, after a while, lost its +hypnotic power over Trent. The sun, a globe of angry red, was rapidly +spinning into the west and a blood-shot sky flamed above the arena when +the evil spirits were exorcized--for that, Na-chung explained, was the +story told by the performance--and the dancers melted into the throngs +of priests on either side of the proscenium. + +"Now comes the Archery Contest," announced the councillor, a repressed +gleam in his eyes. "It is the great event of the celebration--a +demonstration of justice." + +Even as he spoke, trumpets were blown. From behind the yak-hair curtains +emerged a small body of men in golden chain-mail and helmets. (The armor +and headgear interested Trent. Here were relics of the ancients--of +Srong-tsan-gambo and the early Tibetan kings.) The rays of the sun +reflected a dull radiance in the meshes of their armor; sent needles of +fire weaving along the contours of gilded bows and quivers; glittered in +blood-red and gold upon polished helmets. + +"They belong to the guard of his Transparency the Governor," said +Na-chung. + +The archers lifted their bows in salute to the Living God. A visible +ripple of admiration passed around the amphitheater. Heads were strained +forward, eyes focussed upon the mailed bowmen, who aligned themselves on +the right side of the arena--facing the black stakes. There was +something pregnant and potent in their movements.... + +From a gateway opposite the archers rode a double file of soldiers. +Between them walked a line of men in dun-colored garments. As Trent saw +that they were manacled a frightful suspicion fastened upon him. With +dreadful suddenness the purpose of the stakes became apparent.... + +The bowmen stood motionless; only their chain-mail seemed possessed of +life. It glittered and crawled with scaly scintillations, like the +corrugated armor of a dragon. + +At the stakes the soldiers drew up; dismounted. One of the manacled men +screamed and gibbered as he was being bound--sounds that were like +nothing human. Trent turned to Na-chung. The Englishman's face showed no +emotion, but his jaw was thrust forward at an ugly angle. + +The councillor smiled grimly. + +"Their tongues are slit," he informed Trent; then, with a wave of his +hand, he added: "Political offenders." + +Trent, his features cast in a mold that for sheer inscrutability would +have rivalled that of the stoniest idol, turned away--and an instant +later he felt a warm breath upon his ear and heard Na-chung's suave +voice. + +"Thus the Governor punishes treason. Look! There is his Transparency +now." + +A vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair, borne on the shoulders of four +guards, moved through a gateway close to the archers; was placed on the +ground at the end of their stances. The official, visible only as a +crimson blot in the interior, did not rise, but watched the proceedings +from his seat. + +Trent's eyes were drawn back irresistibly to the stakes where the +prisoners were being bound, manacled wrists above their heads. Silence +wrapped the amphitheater about, like tight swathing. To the Englishman, +there was a terrible significance in the undernote of red that the late +afternoon introduced into the scene: the five bars of the blood-red +sunset quivering above the arena and reflecting upon the gilded +proscenium, the deep magenta of the lamas' robes, and the red-gold glint +on harness and naked metal. + +At a signal the archers advanced several paces. Bow-strings were tested; +arrows drawn from quivers. + +A shudder, half of awful ecstasy, half of horror, swept the +amphitheater, like wind rippling the surface of the sea. + +Trent, a nausea spreading from the pit of his stomach to his throat, saw +Sakya-muni lift one hand. His lips pressed into a line; otherwise, his +immobility was unbroken. + +Another shiver swept the amphitheater. + +Sakya-muni's hand dropped. + +The archers flexed their bows; clapped their heels together; stood +erect. Gutstrings snapped rigid between their nocks.... The +_whizz-zz-zz_ of the arrows seemed to unleash the tension. A hysterical +cheer wavered up from the multitude. The manacled figures sagged, hung, +drenched in the flaming red of the sunset. + +Trent relaxed--but the nausea remained, a dull horror that he could +almost taste. + +Sakya-muni rose, as did the multitude. A low chant began, a weird, +droning incantation. The mailed executioners marched out of the arena, +followed by the Governor's vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair. The masked +lamas and those in harness and flame-colored mantles filed toward the +stairway. Lictors and acolytes descended from the proscenium; the +secular lords and cardinals; the Living Buddha and his attendant Grand +Lamas.... Slowly they traversed the yellow carpet, slowly they mounted +the steps and vanished behind the yak-hair curtains. The red monks +herded together on either side of the platform formed human rivulets +that surged into the arena. The onlookers left their seats. + +The Festival of the Gods was over. + + +4 + +Trent and Na-chung moved up the incline, sifting through the swarm. On +the gallery, at the portal of the monastery, Trent looked back. Dusk was +creeping into the inflamed sky and gray motes subdued the crimson +reflection. Over the heads of the people he saw the arena--saw the +sagging figures starkly outlined upon the white wall. + +Then he plunged into the doorway, behind Na-chung. + +As they re-traveled the labyrinth of corridors and courts, there hung +before Trent a picture of the arena as he last looked upon it--a grim +etching. He had seen men slaughtered in recognized warfare, had seen +prisoners executed, but this--There was something monstrous, something +inexplicably hideous, about it. His failure to understand the uncanny +impression only sharpened the horror. "Their tongues are slit--" +Na-chung's words were written as with steel upon his brain. When men's +tongues are slit it is obviously for the purpose of preventing speech. +What did those wretches know? "Political offenders," the councillor had +said ... yet.... + +So ran his thoughts as they emerged at length on the other side of +Lhakang-gompa. Night was swiftly gathering, and a familiar +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair swam in the dusk of the courtyard near +the gate. As Trent drew nearer, a figure in long robes stepped out. He +saw the pale blot of the Governor's face. + +"Ah! It is his Transparency!" exclaimed Na-chung. "He is waiting for +us." + +The Governor stood motionless by his sedan-chair. Not until they were +within three yards of him did he stir--and as he took a step, Trent +experienced a shock that was not unlike a physical blow. But his poise +did not desert him; he only drew a swift breath, which he doubted if the +Governor heard, and a slight smile settled over his features--as though +he had known from the very first that it was Hsien Sgam who rode in the +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair and this meeting was no more than +expected, even anticipated. + +"Hsien Sgam," he said, still smiling. + +The Mongol--he, too, was smiling--bowed. His slender, almost feminine +hands gleamed sharply-cut in the twilight. + +"By that name you first knew me," he replied in the quiet, reserved +voice that Trent remembered so well--a voice that chose each word with +extreme care. "So, my friend, continue to know me as that." + +He wore a dark silk-brocade garment; it looked crimson in the dusk. The +facings were goldcloth, shining dully, and a hat with upcurling brim +surmounted his pale bronze features. One of those curious, vagrant +questions came to Trent as he looked at the Mongol. Was this the +flannel-clad fellow-passenger of the _Manchester_, he who had talked of +revolutions, of Western vices and morals?... Queer.... There was little +of incongruity about him now, here in his native setting; only the eyes +and face--eyes of Lucifer and face of Buddha. Anomalous, unexplainable, +almost--Trent hesitated at using the term, even in thought; yet why +not?--almost monstrous. + +"I am pleased to welcome you to Shingtse-lunpo," Hsein Sgam announced. +"I regretted very much"--here the sensitive lips quivered in a quick +smile--"that you became impatient and left the joss-house, that night in +Rangoon. It was unpardonable of me to have kept you waiting, yet +unavoidable. I hope to do here what I intended to do there--discuss +certain matters with which you are only partly acquainted." Then, after +a pause, "I trust you find your quarters comfortable?" + +Trent answered with a single word. + +"I am delighted to have you accept my hospitality," resumed the Mongol. +"There are many--er--things we must discuss, but I would indeed be rude +if I suggested that we take up those matters so soon after your +fatiguing journey. Perhaps you will do me the honor of calling at my +residence to-morrow night?... I shall send my estimable chief +councillor, Na-chung, to--er--fetch you, as they say in your country." + +And he did a most Western thing; he extended his hand. Trent accepted +it, because he had no choice. For some inexplicable reason he felt a +sudden loathing. In that instant the Mongol seemed, mentally, as +misshapen as his limb. It was like a swift glimpse behind the serene +Buddha-like face, and his touch was a tangible reminder that Hsien +Sgam--Hsien Sgam of the slender hands and sensitive lips--was +responsible for the slaughter that Trent only a short while before had +witnessed. "Thus the Governor punishes treason," Na-chung had said. + +The Mongol spoke, almost with clairvoyance. + +"Doubtless you found in the ceremonies this afternoon a--er--slight +unpleasantness; that is, it would be unpleasant to an Anglo-Saxon." He +smiled. "Public executions, we of Shingtse-lunpo find, are necessary to +bring forcibly to the people the supremacy of the State, and"--the +baffling eyes were more inscrutable than ever--"as an example to those +who contemplate--shall I say, _indiscretions_?" + +Still smiling, Hsien Sgam limped to the sedan-chair. He entered, without +another glance at Trent, and was borne away on the shoulders of the +guards. + +"Come," said Na-chung. "My men are waiting outside the gate." + +Back through the narrow, crowded streets they rode--streets that were as +chaotic as Trent's brain. The discovery that Hsien Sgam was Governor of +Shingtse-lunpo (and, quite evidently, one of the Order of the Falcon) +swung his main danger from Sarojini Nanjee to the Mongol--or rather, +left him between the two perils. Of the pair, he imagined he could +expect more mercy from the woman. If she and the Mongol were in league, +that doubly jeopardized his position; but if they were opposing +forces.... Well, frequently the third party profits by the rivalry of +the other two. What puzzled him most was why Hsien Sgam had tried to +kill him in Rangoon, if he believed him Tavernake, the jeweler. And +Trent did not doubt for an instant, now, that the Mongol was the +instigator of the bullet that Kerth had intercepted. A warm thrill of +assurance ran through him at thought of Kerth. He had one ally. More, of +course, counting the muleteers and Dana Charteris; but the girl was more +of a liability than an asset, a thorn in his fragile security. If she +were only somewhere else.... But she was not. And her presence troubled +him. + +Hsien Sgam, the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo. He smiled inwardly. What was +the Mongol's part in the jewel mystery? He suspected that Hsien Sgam's +talk of a Mongol revolution was a sheath in which his true motive in +luring him to the joss-house in Rangoon lay hidden. Was--? + +"By George!" he muttered, aloud. + +Glancing toward Na-chung, he saw the councillor's questioning look and +made an inconsequential remark, while he asked himself: + +"Is Hsien Sgam ... but no ... yet ... well, why not!... But what of +Chavigny, if he isn't the Falcon!" + +They reached Trent's dwelling-place then. Na-chung halted at the gate, +informing the Englishman that he would leave a guard. + +"As your guide," he explained suavely. "You will wish to go beyond your +quadrangle, and whereas your garments are a passport anywhere in the +city, it is not wise for you to venture out alone--yet." He smiled. "You +see, the fact that you do not speak our language, and that my people are +unfortunately suspicious, might prove ... you understand? Therefore, I +have instructed the guard to accompany you when you leave the house, as +a purely precautionary measure. His Transparency the Governor also +wishes me to present to you the pony which you are riding, as a slight +token of his esteem." + +Trent thanked him and Na-chung clattered away, followed by his retinue +of soldiers. + +As one of the muleteers took Trent's mount, he looked about the +quadrangle for Dana Charteris. + +"Where is my brother?" he asked. + +The muleteer muttered a few unintelligible words. + +"Where?" Trent repeated. + +The Oriental looked as though he expected Trent to strike him, as he +answered: + +"He left the house--this morning--soon after you did, _Tajen_." + +"Alone?" He snapped out the question. + +"No, _Tajen_; Kee Meng went, too." + +"Where? Do you know?"--this with a frown. + +"To the festival, _Tajen_." + +Trent stood motionless. The frown disappeared as he remembered that he +had ridden from the amphitheatre; they, being on foot, would be later in +coming. + +"Send Kee Meng to me as soon as he returns," he rapped, and entered the +dwelling. + +When a half-hour had gone by and Dana Charteris and Kee Meng had not +come, the frown returned to Trent's forehead; returned and stayed; and +deepened into furrows when another thirty minutes did not bring them. He +went up on the roof to smoke and to be alone; and he paced the stones, +drawing nervously upon the amber stem and confessing to himself that he +was alarmed. + +His heart beat a swift symphony of anticipation when he heard the gate +open. Without looking over the roof-wall, he hurried below. As he +stepped into the quadrangle and beheld the limp figure that was being +supported by two muleteers, fear sank its talons into him. + +The sound of his footsteps brought the limp figure up with a visible +effort. He thrust back the two men; took a step; dropped on his knees +before Trent. + +"_Tajen!_" whispered Kee Meng. "_Tajen_, I swear by Allah that--" + +Trent gripped his shoulders. His right hand encountered moisture; he saw +a stain. + +"What is it?" he demanded, his muscles bound in a rigor of dreadful +apprehension. + +"_Tajen_, as we were coming from that--that devil dance, the brother and +I.... We were in a street no wider than this"--painfully he lifted his +hands in illustration--"and they jumped on us from behind--" + +"Who did?" + +"I do not know, _Tajen_; but I think they were lamas. They struck me +from behind--and as I lay there I heard the brother scream--and I.... +They stabbed me, _Tajen_. I saw black for a long while, oh, a very long +while! When I woke up I was lying in the gutter. The brother--he was +gone! I was hurt; but I knew you would kill me if I returned without +looking--so I hunted--until I spilled my blood over the city and had +none left to keep me alive. Then I came--came back!" + +He sank in a huddle at Trent's feet. + +"Kill me, _Tajen_," he moaned. "The brother--how could I refuse when he +told me to go with him to...? But kill me--I am not worth the--" His +voice broke; he was still. + +Trent bent swiftly. After a moment he stood erect. + +"Carry him inside," he directed the muleteers. "It isn't a bad wound; +he's weak from loss of blood." + +The two yellow men stooped and picked up the unconscious Kee Meng. As +Trent entered the house behind them the putrid odor of butter-lamps +assaulted him, sickened him. The blow had come with a maiming force. He +felt suddenly crippled. + + +5 + +When Trent had dressed Kee Meng's wound he returned to the roof, to his +pipe and the stars. The spot seemed a lone haven of cleanliness, raised +above the malefic atmosphere of the city.... To think--to decide what to +do. He told himself that over and over as he paced the stones. His +hands, figuratively, were tied. There was no one to whom he dared +appeal--none save Kerth, and the two of them might search for days in +the labyrinth of the city without even finding a clue. Meanwhile, Dana +Charteris was in danger--a danger that was more frightful because of the +indefiniteness of its character. There was but one explanation for her +disappearance: either Sarojini Nanjee or Hsien Sgam had discovered her +sex and had taken steps to place her where she was likely to cause the +least trouble ... and where she might prove a weapon. + +He smoked on, pipe clamped between his teeth, striding the length of the +housetop. The stars saw what few men had ever seen--Arnold Trent +stripped of his mask, his citadel of impassivity beaten down. A great +hollow infinity seemed to press upon him and quench the very breath from +his lips. He came to understand a new emotion--the agony of separation. +The scales of unreason weighed values, and an alien recklessness urged +him to forsake the sovereign motive for his presence in Shingtse-lunpo +and with one mighty effort break the bonds that held him to a discreet +course. Did not duty toward flesh transcend duty toward the +inanimate?... Thus the lover's litany--a beautiful heresy. + +But all this ache, longing, and unreason only carried him about in a +circle; and from these purposeless revolutions the memory of her, a +continuous glow in the dimness, led him into patience, to a mastery of +himself. There were lines in his face--the mellow writing of anguish. It +was as though he had partaken of the eucharist of suffering and from the +bitter sacrament had come quiescence. + +With the first easing of the tension came a plan. It broke upon him +suddenly. If Sarojini Nanjee had abducted Dana Charteris, he could only +rely upon his wits to free her; but if it was Hsien Sgam--His plan was a +counter-blow at the Mongol in the event he was responsible for the +girl's disappearance. It was a bold play, and if he failed.... + +As he heard a soft footfall, he swung about toward the shaft. A figure +emerged--one of the muleteers. + +"_Tajen_, a lama is below," he announced. "He came over the garden wall. +He says he would speak with you." + +"Send him up here," directed Trent. + +Several minutes later a shaven skull projected itself above the black +opening in the roof, and Kerth, in his lama robes, stepped out. There +was something reassuring in the sight of him. A white man! That alone +was a moral fire in which to forge his resolution. + +Kerth listened in silence while Trent recounted what had happened and +told of his plan. + +"I know of a place to conceal him," Kerth announced, when Trent had +concluded. "It's an old ruin at the other end of the city; and there's a +vault, with a door that will lock. I stayed there the first few days I +was in Shingtse-lunpo. We'll have to strike now--to-night. To-morrow +morning I enter Lhakang-gompa, to serve in one of the cells." He smiled +his satanic smile. "It's my one chance to get at the source of things in +the monastery." + +They descended from the roof--and a few minutes afterward, when Kerth +climbed over the garden wall, he was accompanied by two of Trent's +muleteers. Trent stood in the shadow of the willow-thorn until their +footsteps ceased, then returned to the house to wait. + +He kept vigil in the quadrangle for more than an hour, restless, +impatient. At the first sounds in the willow-grove, he hurried to the +garden and met the two caravan-men. + +"All is well, _Tajen_," reported one of the Orientals. "The lama bade me +tell you everything happened as planned and that the councillor Na-chung +is hidden in the vault." + +"The lama sent no other message?" + +"He said he wishes you the peace of Gaudama Siddartha." + +Good old Kerth, Trent thought warmly. That was his message of comfort. + +"You have done well," he commended the muleteers. "To-morrow you will +each receive a gift." + +It was near midnight, and the stars had fled before black clouds and a +drizzling rain, when Trent forced himself to lie down. Almost the +instant he relaxed unconsciousness carried him into its dim cathedral, +and he drank of the sleep that deadens even the pains of the dying. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +LHAKANG-GOMPA + + +From the very midst of slumber Trent was shot into consciousness. He +opened his eyes to find himself submerged in darkness, and to feel +another presence in the black flood. His hand went involuntarily to the +revolver that he kept always within reach, and as he lifted himself upon +his elbow, one hand gripping the weapon, he saw a body silhouetted upon +the grayish rectangle of a window. + +"_Tajen!_" whispered a voice that he recognized as that of one of the +muleteers. "It is Hsiao. There is a man below.... He told me to be quiet +and not arouse the guard.... He brought this for you." + +A folded sheet of paper was thrust into Trent's hand. The scent of +sandalwood caressed his nostrils and cleared his brain of the last +tangle of drowsiness. He rose and sought his electric torch, which was +in his kit-bag. Snapping on the light, he read the note.... It was +brief; merely instructed him to follow the bearer and was signed by +Sarojini Nanjee.... A glance at his watch showed him it was after two +o'clock. + +"Where is he? In the quadrangle?" Trent queried. + +"Yes, _Tajen_." + +"I'll be there directly." + +Trent strapped his revolver to his thigh; procured a certain object from +his pack; went below. + +A thin, misting rain was falling, and the wind swept down in cold +legions from the snows of the North. It was a night to kindle icy flame +in the marrow. Gray gloom lay like a ghoulish lacquer upon the world, +and dogs were howling somewhere in the city. + +Sarojini's messenger was a thin-featured Tibetan with long hair. He +extended a dark bundle to Trent and muttered something in his own +tongue. + +"He says for you to put those on, _Tajen_," translated the muleteer. + +Unrolling the bundle, Trent saw a long toga and a pair of heavy Tibetan +boots. The latter he pulled on with some difficulty, then threw the toga +about his shoulders. + +The long-haired messenger touched his arm, motioning toward the garden. +Hsiao, the muleteer, accompanied them to the wall, where he lent Trent +his aid in reaching the top. Outside, the Englishman found himself in a +narrow lane that opened upon the street. + +Through ghostly highways they moved. Now and then a dog snarled +viciously and slunk away as the Tibetan kicked at him. They traveled +along constricted streets, some graduated into steps, and past silent, +whitewashed houses that loomed spectral in the night. These +ramifications led them to a stone bridge and a roadway between tall +bamboo and the black blur of trees. Trent could see the city's walls +now, beyond rounded clumps of bushes. From this clustered vegetation +rose a large temple-like edifice whose dome shone dully through the +drizzle. + +A lane branched off from the main road and took them to the gates of the +temple-like building. First, a courtyard, then an imposing doorway. +Within, it was damp and cold. Butter-lamps made a feeble attempt to +disperse rebellious shadows. Monster shapes, which Trent perceived to be +idols, glowed sullenly in the semi-dark. + +A hall with red-lacquered pillars led to a massive portal that was +opened by a brass ring. It swung back, to release the odor of incense +and rancid butter and to admit Trent and the Tibetan into a vast space +that evidently was a temple. Butter-lamps hiccoughed and threw their +reflections upon brazen images and old armor. In the remote end a dull +mass of gold kindled in the temple-dusk, a form that took on the shape +of a huge idol--and from beneath the shining god came a figure of +familiar proportions. + +"Greetings, man of many faces!" said Sarojini Nanjee in her sweet voice, +a voice that rang like the notes of a gong in the ponderous silence of +the temple. + +Trent glimpsed behind her a man in claret-colored vestments. The face +was strongly reminiscent of one he had recently seen, and after a few +seconds recognition flashed into him. He was the one whom Na-chung had +pointed out in the amphitheater as the Great Magician of Shingtse-lunpo. +The woman, seeing Trent's look and misunderstanding it, announced: + +"He knows only Tibetan and Hindustani; that is why I speak English." +Then she added, "He is the third most powerful man in Shingtse-lunpo." + +Trent casually took in Sarojini Nanjee's manner of dress--casually, +because he did not wish to appear particularly interested. She wore a +long maroon garment such as Tibetan women wear; only the lines were not +bulky, but adapted themselves to the purpose of revealing the contours +of her figure. Her skin was darkened by a stain--skin that was quite +unlike that of the women of Shingtse-lunpo in that it was smooth and +without a coat of dust and grease. A silver aureole rose behind her +black hair, which was parted after the Tibetan fashion. A flame, as of +black opals, danced and flashed in her eyes as she smiled at him. + +"I have not sent for you before," she told him, "because it would have +been indiscreet. Too, we could have done nothing until now. I did not +know of your arrival until many hours after you reached the city. I--" + +"You expected my muleteers to report my presence," he put in, smiling. + +She smiled, too, although he could see she was not pleased. + +"Yes. Where are they?" + +"I didn't fancy being spied upon night and day," he replied, "so I left +them at Tali-fang." + +"Do you realize that was disobeying me?" + +"You didn't forbid changing servants." After a pause he went on, "Yet +my precautions were useless, for I daresay by now you know everything +that happened since I left Tali-fang." + +She looked at him quizzically. (And he did not know whether the +expression was genuine or not.) + +"What do you mean?" + +"One of my men failed to put in his appearance last night. I naturally +surmised"--this rather drily--"that you detained him to find out what he +knew." + +He was watching her closely, and again that quizzical expression clouded +her eyes. After a moment she smiled queerly. + +"You accuse me of crude tactics," she said; then switched off with: "But +tell me, what have you learned since your arrival?" + +He answered discreetly. "I attended the festival to-day." + +She nodded. "I saw you. I was in the Governor's stall. Because of his +vigilance I dared not communicate with you before this. He watches me as +a hawk watches its prey." (Trent wondered if the word "hawk" had any +significance.) "But while the bird sleeps, the cobra goes about its +business.... You have not yet told me what you learned." + +After some deliberation he said: + +"I know of Sakya-muni; and I know that monks from Shingtse-lunpo +accompanied the abbot who pilgrimaged to Gaya." + +A second time she nodded. "Do you know what occurred at Gaya?" + +Trent's heart was beating swiftly as he countered: + +"You should know; you were there at the time." + +And his heart beat swifter as she whipped back: + +"Who told you that?" + +Trent was thrusting boldly. He meant to beat down all guards, to win or +lose. The suspense, the groping in the dark, was consuming his +nerve-tissues. + +"Hsien Sgam," he lied. + +A typhoon of rage flashed across her beautiful face. It spent itself +quickly. She opened her lips; closed them; and after a space said quite +calmly: + +"Why did Hsien Sgam tell you that?" + +Trent shrugged. "How do I know?" + +She gestured impatiently. "What question did you ask that caused him to +tell that?" + +Having gone so far, Trent ventured a step further. + +"Captain Manlove, who shared my bungalow at Gaya, was murdered the night +the monks were there. I asked him if he could explain it." + +A queer, cold expression settled upon Sarojini Nanjee's face. Only her +eyes were warm: they burned like melted opals. She smiled--a rather +terrible smile. + +"I had not heard that before, that your friend was murdered," she +announced. "Why did not you tell me?" + +"Why should I?" + +Her eyes searched his face; encountered that barrier of impassivity. + +"You say you suspected the monks?" + +"Not until I reached Shingtse-lunpo." + +A pause before she pursued: + +"But why, even then, did you suspect them? What motive--" + +"I'm at loss for a motive," he cut in quietly. "I don't know what to +think, for, you see, I found this"--he drew from under his robe a +glittering object--"in his, in Captain Manlove's, hand." + +He opened the silver-chased pendant and extended it to her. She glanced +at the name graven within; looked up at him. The lids sank over her +eyes--to cover surprise, he imagined. + +"But why," she queried, "did not you tell me of this before?" + +"Because if you lied to me once, I thought it likely you'd lie a second +time. You swore that Chavigny had nothing to do with the Order--yet--" +He motioned toward the piece of coral. + +Her eyes burned with a steady flame. + +"I spoke the truth!" she declared. "Chavigny has nothing to do with the +Order, has had nothing to do with it since several days before your +Captain Manlove was murdered. Oh, I know what you think--that I am lying +now! But, even as I spoke the truth then, I speak it now! Chavigny is +dead--was dead before your friend was killed!" + +Trent took the pendant, avoiding her eyes. It was one of his +idiosyncrasies not to look at a person whom he believed lying to him. + +"Chavigny was intrusted with certain work at Indore," she continued, +"but he ran amuck; tried to steal the Pearl Scarf for himself and +substituted an imitation. A blundering Secret Service agent, who had +followed Chavigny from Calcutta, interfered. I am not aware of the exact +circumstances, but this Secret Service agent came into possession of the +real Pearl Scarf. The Order allowed Chavigny to go to Delhi. There the +substitute was discovered--and Chavigny put out of the way. The Secret +Service agent who had the real jewels was in Delhi, where he had tracked +Chavigny. I was instructed to recover the Pearl Scarf, and I sent my +servant, Chandra Lal, to the hotel where the Government agent was +staying. He got the pearls and--" + +"And you took them to Gaya, to the lamas?" Trent interposed. + +"Did I say that?" she retorted. "What I did with them is no concern of +yours--at present." + +"But you were at Gaya?" + +"I refuse to answer that." + +"But if Chavigny was put out of the way, as you say, how do you account +for this?" he pressed on, extending the pendant. + +"How does one account for the sun, the moon, the stars?" she returned. +"No, I do not know now--but I _will_ know! And you shall avenge the +slaying of your friend! You shall have blood for blood! I, Sarojini +Nanjee, promise that! I will learn the truth--even if I must go to the +Falcon!" + +Trent took that as his cue and asked: + +"Who _is_ the Falcon?" + +She stared at him. "Then you have not seen him?" + +Trent wanted to smile. Without herself realizing it, she had told him +the one thing he wished to know. He had said that he had talked with +Hsien Sgam--and now she asked if he had seen the Falcon.... + +"No," he replied, "I have not seen him." + +"You will see him, then," she said quickly, "at the proper time. Minutes +are too precious to spend on explanations now. To-night I shall show you +one of the secrets of Shingtse-lunpo.... Come! You must meet the Great +Magician." + +The high priest of sorcery (whose presence they had for the while +forgotten) greeted Trent cordially in Hindustani, but it was evident +that he was troubled--though the fact that his lips trembled slightly +may have been due to the dampness of the temple. + +Sarojini Nanjee threw a robe about her shoulders and, motioning to +Trent, guided him to one side of the large golden image, to a door that +the Great Magician had opened. Beyond was a courtyard. It was still +drizzling and low black clouds impended. A gate was pushed open by the +high priest and they emerged upon a path that ended at a gate in the +nearby city-walls. If there was a guard, he was discreetly out of sight. + +Outside was a low embankment, then the dark waste of the morass that +girded Shingtse-lunpo. To the west, in the thin veil of rain, was a +shapeless blur that Trent imagined was Amber Bridge. The Great Magician +shut the gate and led the way down the embankment. The ground was not +soggy, as Trent expected, and, straining his eyes, he saw the reason. +They were following a barely visible road through the rushes. + +Toward the shapeless blur they moved. As they drew nearer it became +apparent that it was not Amber Bridge, but a pile of broken stone--a +remnant of the old outer-fortifications--in the middle of the +swamp-belt. When they reached the mass of masonry Trent saw that it was +a portion of a broken wall, rising above nearly obliterated flagstones +that formed the floor of what had once been a room, or a tunnel, under a +mighty rampart--a wall that was hollowed and whose roof had fallen in. +The passage thus formed was not more than three feet in width and ran +for several yards before it ended in a _cul-de-sac_. + +Into the narrow space between the walls Trent and Sarojini Nanjee +followed the Great Magician. It was damp and smelled of freshly-turned +earth. A few feet from the entrance the Tibetan paused and grunted a +word to Sarojini. Instantly a saber of light smote the darkness, a ray +from a very modern electric torch in the woman's hand. The Great +Magician took the light from her, flashing it into the _cul-de-sac_ and +upon a small stone stairway that plunged into grim depths. + +Down into the bowels of the earth it carried them, into a rectangular +crypt. Blocks of masonry had been torn away from one side of the wall +and an irregular aperture gaped blackly. Trent observed that the stones +had not been removed recently, for they were wedged in mud and grown +with fungi. + +Through the rent in the crypt they passed, entering a tunnel that bored +downward at a gradual incline. The torchlight wavered upon damp, ancient +walls; upon several inches of water in the bottom of the passage. Cold, +earthy odors fouled the air. Before they had proceeded far, loose rocks +rattled underfoot, and Trent, glancing down, saw that he was treading +upon chips and small particles of stone. White dust streaked the muddy +water. This prepared him for the pile of shattered rock that appeared +suddenly ahead, heaped at one side of a crude doorway. All of which +attested to the fact that the passage had at one time been sealed, but +very recently opened--and by men who were not masons. + +The tunnel continued its gradual downward course for what Trent +calculated was at least a mile. If he judged aright they must be +somewhere near the middle of the city. Suddenly the subterranean +corridor made a series of turns, then sloped upward, running straight +after that and bringing them at length into a crypt similar to the one +beneath the swamp-ruins. The smell of oil hung in the air, and Trent +identified it with the iron-bound door at one side. He was surprised to +see that its lock was very modern. (From some shop in Gyangtse or +Darjeeling--thus he conjectured irrelevantly.) The Great Magician +fumbled at the formidable portal, and, following a grating noise, it +swung out soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. Yellow light impinged upon +the darkness of a stairway, on the bottom step of which rested a brass +lamp. + +The priest lighted the lamp, and Sarojini Nanjee, slipping her hand into +Trent's, led the Englishman through the door and up the stairway. +Looking back, Trent saw the Great Magician sink cross-legged upon the +floor; then the picture was shut out as they climbed higher into gloom. +Near the top Sarojini halted and directed the light upward. It swept a +square of stone at the very head of the stairs; the lines where it +fitted into place were scarcely visible. + +"You will have to lift the stone," Sarojini told him, stepping aside. + +He mounted the few remaining stairs and stooped in the meager space at +the top, pressing hands and shoulders against the square of stone. Warm +blood rushed into his stained cheeks as he slowly drew erect, lifting +the stone from place and letting it fall noisily upon the floor above. +The space into which the rock fitted was perhaps three yards around, +widening out at the top. Trent's head and shoulders projected from the +aperture into blackness that was more intense because of the light from +which he had emerged. + +"Pull yourself up," directed Sarojini. "Then I will give you the light." + +He drew himself out of the stairway with little difficulty, clambering +to his knees on the stone floor above and leaning back to receive the +pocket-lamp. As he lifted the light he gained an impression of vastness +and gloom and many indistinguishable objects. Placing the torch on the +floor beside him, he grasped Sarojini's hands and pulled her through the +small space--and she lingered uncomfortably long in his arms, whether +by chance or otherwise, he could only wonder. + +He recovered the torchlight, and the woman took it from him. The ray +cleaved through shadows and stamped a bar of yellow upon a row of oblong +wooden boxes; traveled across more boxes (the latter, Trent observed, +the length of ordinary rifles) and brought into glowing prominence the +slender objects that hung upon the walls. With a quickening of his +heart-beat Trent guessed where they were--for the glowing things were +swords and lances. Piles of armor shone with a repressed gleam on the +floor, and numerous bright shapes outside the intimate radiance of the +light resolved into jeweled pistols such as he had seen in the +possession of soldiers of the Golden Army. But with the boxes he was +mainly concerned; their blank sides intrigued him and challenged his +fancy. + +"We are in the Armory," said Sarojini Nanjee, "under the center of +Lhakang-gompa--not beneath the ground, as you would imagine, but just +below the surface of the rocky eminence where the building stands." + +She let the light rove about the Armory, which was vast and stretched on +four sides into black obscurity. A series of arches and pillars deepened +the mystery; armor and various types of weapons kindled dully against a +background of gloom. There were more wooden boxes in remote corners, +innumerable piles of them. + +"What do they contain?" he inquired, indicating the many boxes. + +As he expected, she lied. + +"How should I know? Armor, I fancy. Yonder"--with a gesture--"is the +entrance from the monastery. Soldiers guard the other side of the +door.... Come!" + +As she led off under the arches and along an aisle between the boxes, +Trent asked himself why stores of explosives and ammunition were hidden +beneath a Tibetan monastery. Perhaps, after all, there was something to +Hsien Sgam's revolution.... + +An arched doorway admitted them to a corridor lined with gleaming idols. +Hideous frescoes were painted upon long panels between the images, and +at the end was a massive crimson-stained door. Before one of the panels +Sarojini stopped. The painting was monstrous and pictured a three-eyed +god standing in the midst of skulls and human entrails--a god that Trent +recognized with a start as the one whose image was wrought on the coral +symbol of the Order of the Falcon. At regular intervals on the panel +were four brass rings, each having a long scarlet tassel attached to it. + +Sarojini thrust the torch into Trent's hand and caught one of the brass +rings. She twisted it and tugged, and the panel yielded, sliding to one +side and disclosing a dark cavity in the wall. The woman stepped in +first, Trent following. The recess was not more than fifty feet in +diameter--a square space with frescoed walls. Opposite the entrance, and +upon a lacquered pedestal, was a silver image of Janesseron, the +Three-eyed God of Thunder--and his trio of narrow little orbs looked +down upon the several chests that were pushed against the walls of the +small room. + +"You remember," began Sarojini, "that you were told you would reach +enlightenment by gradations?... Now you stand upon the next to the last +terrace." + +With that she moved to one of the chests; lifted the lid; turned to +Trent. + +"Come closer," she commanded. + +He did. And his eyes met the glitter of gems. And he caught his breath, +for he knew he stood in the midst of the jewels for which he had +penetrated into the forbidden arcanum of Asia. + +"Look," directed the woman, indicating a card attached to the inside of +the small chest. "It is written in Hindustani. See: H. H. Tukaji Rao +Holkar III, Bahadur, Maharajah of Indore!" + +There was a cool, tinkling sound as she drew from the chest a scarf of +pearls--tiny lustrous spheres that shone like miniature moons. + +"For these," she said, "Andre Chavigny died." + +In the dimness, above the ray of the pocket-lamp, their eyes met, his +expressionless, hers again like black opals. He heard her quick +breathing--felt, as did she, the contagion of the jewels.... In her +hands she held a fortune. Vaguely, irrelevantly, he tried to recall the +sum at which the pearls of Indore were appraised; instead, wondered why +she wished him to believe Chavigny out of the game. + +"Hsien Sgam was the first to show me where the jewels were hidden," she +resumed. "But he did not take me through the tunnel." Again the cool, +musical tinkle as she dropped the pearls into the chest. "We came from +the corridors above the Armory. The possibility of ever making away with +the jewels seemed very meager--until I found out that there was a tunnel +leading from a point somewhere outside the city up into the vaults of +Lhakang-gompa. I learned it from a young layman who was loose of tongue +and eager for _tengas_--learned also that there had been trouble between +Sakya-muni and the Great Magician and that the Living Buddha was +threatening to depose his chief sorcerer. So I went to the Great +Magician...." She shrugged. "The lock is easy to him who knows the +combination; thus with men.... The tunnel had been sealed; but after the +sorcerer's men had worked for five nights that obstacle was removed. The +passage was completely opened yesterday. The fool--the magician--thinks +he will fly with us when we leave and receive a portion of the jewels! +But he will never pass the walls of Shingtse-lunpo after to-night, nor +will he interfere with my plans!" + +Before Trent could ask the question that came to the end of his tongue +Sarojini Nanjee threw back the lid of the largest of the chests, and the +shimmer and flare of gems disconnected thought from speech. + +"The Gaekwar of Baroda," announced the woman, pointing to the card on +the inside of the lid. "This is the Star of the Deccan." + +She clasped a necklace of diamonds about her throat, and the stones +trembled against her skin like spiders of fire. + +"Do not they look well about my neck?" she asked in a repressed voice, +a voice that shook. Then she laughed, but he did not like the symptoms +that underlay it. He gripped himself. The muscles of his throat stood +out, and there was about him the air of a man preparing to do battle. + +Sarojini Nanjee returned the diamonds to the chest. Gems rattled. She +lifted what seemed a fabric of the spun brilliance of the universe--and +a flame swept into Trent's brain. This amazing dazzle, as of cascading +stars, was born of a rug made entirely of pearls, with central and +corner figures of diamonds; a rug that coruscated and blazed as though +its weaver had threaded the shuttle with flame and woven a carpet for +the gods; a rug whose gems were multi-hued little serpents that coiled +about Trent's brain and sank their fangs into his reason. + +The carpet slipped from Sarojini Nanjee's hands and lay in a quivering +heap on the edge of the chest. The fire in her eyes matched that of the +rug. + +"Millions!" she murmured in a husky voice. "Millions!" + +... As one in a dream, Trent saw her hands stretch out to him; felt them +on his arms. The touch sent a shock of warning through his frame. +Involuntarily he stiffened and took a step backward--but the perfume of +her hair, the scent of bruised sandalwood, was in his nostrils and on +his lips and face, like the fragrant breath of the sirocco ... and the +hot mystery of her eyes challenged him to take the caress that her lips +offered. (Of the earth always, this Sarojini Nanjee, with earth's gifts +for men.) A deadly languor locked about him. He was in some +fever-breeding jungle, and she was there, this golden woman, very close +to him.... + +A small incident saved him from Attila's fate. + +There came a sound, a gentle rattle and patter, like cool rain upon his +thirsty thoughts. Something seemed to snap in his brain, and he moved +back a pace--and out of the danger zone. He perceived, then, that the +jewel-carpet had slipped from the chest to the floor, thus rescuing him +from the very web that it had contrived. + +Sarojini, too, drew back. Chagrin smothered the fire from her eyes. +Concupiscence in him--her chief weapon--was broken. She saw by the set +of his features that control had returned, and knew that having once +been so close to defeat, he would be thrice as wary as before. She had +lost in this first campaign. She smiled cynically. + +"You were always a fool, Arnold," she told him. "Another moment and I +might have said that to the north, across Mongolia, lies Russia ... and +there, the portals of the world ... you and I...." She smiled again, and +there was a trace of bitterness in it. "Oh, yes, I can forget +Jehelumpore--can forgive. Said I not that I am the Swaying Cobra, that I +dance for those I love, but have only venom for those I hate? Now, +Arnold, you are your old Anglo-Saxon self again--oh, you English, with +your 'sense of honor'--and to-night you will start for India and your +humdrum life. Yes, we will leave Shingtse-lunpo to-night, with +these"--she made a gesture--"and for a while you will be a hero--and +then--" She broke off, still smiling; shrugged. "Then, in the years that +follow, you will often remember that night in Tibet when the Swaying +Cobra might have offered you the wealth of an empire ... and perhaps you +will regret your Anglo-Saxon sentimentalism." + +Then she turned and placed in the chest the carpet whose only gift to +men, down through the years, was a dream of crime. Trent drew one hand +across his moist forehead, as though to wipe away the obfuscations of a +nightmare. The recollection of his weakness came as a hot accusation. +His lips had touched the cup of delirium, and of that shuddering moment +there remained but the memory--gray anti-climax. + +"We dare not remain here longer," announced Sarojini. "The Great +Magician is a coward, and if we are too long we shall find him +chattering like the ape that he is. I will give you your instructions +now. Listen well. To-night--it must be near dawn now--I shall have a +pack-train ready, and in barley sacks, upon the animals, will be the +jewels. You will send your caravan out of the city beforehand, with +instructions to wait on the road a mile beyond Amber Bridge. Meanwhile, +at eleven o'clock--remember, eleven--a man will be at your house and +will guide you to the gate by which we left the city this morning, the +Great Magician's Gate. There I will meet you. + +"The gems will not be missed until the following day--and I have taken +precautions to cover our trail. Yesterday a man left with a caravan of +yaks, and several miles beyond the _tchorten_ outpost he is waiting. +There we will change pack-animals. He will go north, along the road to +Mongolia, with the ponies and mules; while we will travel south, with +the yaks. The soldiers at the outpost will describe us as having been on +mules, and our pursuers will follow the tracks of the horses and mules. +When they discover their mistake we will be near the border of +India--for we shall travel along the Himalayas to Gyangtse. There the +District Agent will protect us." + +"Can my muleteers leave Shingtse-lunpo without passports?" Trent +questioned. + +She nodded. "A passport is necessary only when one wishes to enter; it +is not required at all of Tibetans.... Come, we must go." + +They left the recess in the wall, closed the panel and returned to the +vast, dim Armory. Again the blank sides of the boxes intrigued Trent. +Sarojini, carrying the flashlight, preceded him through the aperture in +the floor and stood on the stair, directing the ray up while he fitted +the stone into place. Then they descended into the crypt. + +The Great Magician was waiting as they had left him--sitting +cross-legged on the floor. Extinguishing the lamp, he placed it upon the +bottom step and locked the door. + +Back through the tunnel, with its cold, earthy odors, they went; reached +the crypt in the swamp; ascended into the ruins. It was still dark. The +rain had stopped, but a lingering moisture saturated the cold air. +Under the gray barren sky they crossed the marsh and entered the city. +The Tibetan who guided Trent to the Great Magician's temple was waiting +just within the gate, and there the Englishman parted with Sarojini +Nanjee. + +"This man will come for you to-night," she whispered in English. "Be +ready. To-night we win or lose, Arnold--and if we lose, Hsien Sgam will +have us put to death as he did those mute fools who were executed in the +amphitheater yesterday!" + +She smiled--a smile that might have been a promise or a threat--and +hurried away with the Great Magician. + +Trent moved off behind his guide. Once more they traveled the silent, +ghostly streets where only snarling curs were astir. The Tibetan uttered +never a word--not even when he left. At Trent's house he helped the +Englishman over the wall, then slunk toward the mouth of the lane. + +The muleteers were asleep in the quadrangle, but Trent's footsteps +aroused them. He instructed Hsiao to make a fire. Kee Meng, who lay upon +a yak-hair robe by the main entrance, told him he had been sleeping +well, that there was little pain and he could stand without ill effects. + +As Trent dried his clothing by the fire, scenes of the past few hours +conjured themselves in the darkness beyond the flames. Three things he +had learned; three things he had yet to learn. He knew where the jewels +were hidden; knew that Sarojini Nanjee and Hsien Sgam were not allied +(although her connection with the Mongol puzzled him); knew the woman +could tell him something about the murder of Manlove (for she was in +Gaya the night he was killed). But the mystery of Chavigny was yet +unsolved, as was the mystery of Manlove's death and the mystery of Dana +Charteris' disappearance. He did not altogether trust Sarojini; the +incident of the rug (flame to the memory) was a hint of some purpose of +her own. Furthermore, her plan was too simple to be convincing.... And +how much there was to be accomplished before eleven o'clock! He had one +remaining card to play. And he would not wait for Hsien Sgam to send for +him; he would seek him out, force his hand. + +With this purpose established in his mind, he instructed the muleteers +to call him three hours after sunrise and went to his room. He was +weary--body and soul. + +When he fell asleep, dawn was beginning to bleed the veins of the East. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FALCON'S NEST + + +It seemed to Trent that he had scarcely closed his eyes before a touch +awakened him. Sunlight floated through the window in a cloud of gold, +and Hsiao, the muleteer, stood beside his cot. When he rose he felt +stiff and empty of vitality; the vampire of utter exhaustion had drained +him while he slept. A groove was worn into his brain, a groove into +which all thoughts fell unresistingly. + +It was nearly nine o'clock, and a few minutes later when he went below +he found Kee Meng bending over a fire, boiling water for his tea. + +"I thought I told you not to move about," he said sternly to the +Mussulman. + +Kee Meng tapped his wound. "See, it is well now, _Tajen_!" Then he +inclined his head toward the soldier who lounged in the gateway. "I was +talking to him a while ago, _Tajen_, and he says there is great +excitement at the house of the councillor, Na-chung, because"--Kee Meng +winked--"because Na-chung disappeared last night and they fear he has +been murdered and his body thrown to the dogs and vultures! He says they +are searching the city for the councillor." + +Trent did not smile. In his eyes was an absent look, as though his +brain followed a derelict idea. Presently he asked: + +"I've had no message from the lama?" + +"No, _Tajen_." + +Trent spent a restless three hours. He went up on the roof and smoked +and thought. There was something pregnant and repressed in the calm blue +sky, in the gleam of Lhakang-gompa's golden roofs, and in the shimmer +and glare of the whitewashed city. He waited until noon, hoping he would +hear from Kerth; but no message came, and, vaguely troubled, he +descended from the roof. He procured his revolver; slipped it under his +orange-yellow robe. Then he sought Kee Meng, who was in the quadrangle. + +"I am going to the Governor's house," he told the muleteer. "As soon as +the soldier and I have gone, get our packs together and you and the men +go to the place where Hsiao and Kang went last night. Stay there, in +hiding, until you hear from me. Under no circumstances leave. Deliver +the--the thing that is hidden in the cellar only in my presence or upon +a written order from me." + +"But, _Tajen_," objected Kee Meng, "do you go alone?" + +Trent nodded. "Alone." + +An expression of genuine concern came into the Mussulman's oblique eyes. + +"This is an evil city, _Tajen_; the Governor is an evil man. It was he +who commanded the archers yesterday. And the brother--what of the +brother, _Tajen_?" + +"I am going now to find him." Then he called Hsiao. "Tell the soldier I +wish to go to the Governor's house," he directed. "Then bring my horse." + +Fifteen minutes later Trent and the soldier rode out of the quadrangle +and toward Lhakang-gompa. + +They skirted the outer walls of the monastery and followed a wide street +through a part of the city that was unfamiliar to Trent. The Governor's +residence was at the very end, surrounded by a garden and roofed with +dazzling blue tiles. A soldier admitted them into the courtyard, where +they waited until a man who, Trent imagined, was a chamberlain came out +and spoke in Tibetan to the soldier. Then the former went inside. He +reappeared a moment later and beckoned to Trent. The Englishman +dismounted; left his pony with the soldier; followed the chamberlain +into the dwelling. + +He was conducted along a hall that was dark after the bright sunlight. +Curtains parted, swished behind him. As his vision became better +regulated to the dimness he saw a great door, stained cardinal-red. This +was opened by the chamberlain, who stood aside for him to enter.... The +door closed gently behind him. + +He was in a room with scarlet-lacquered walls and frescoes like those in +the Armory. The silken hangings, too, were scarlet, and a single window +with an iron grill allowed the sunshine to filter through in golden +rain. Facing him was a silver image of Janesseron, the Three-eyed God of +Thunder; and beneath the idol, at a Burmese teakwood table that struck a +jarring note in the otherwise Tibetan room, and in a teakwood chair +that was equally as incongruous, sat his Transparency Hsien Sgam, the +Governor of Shingtse-lunpo. + +The Mongol rose an instant after Trent entered and limped forward, his +hand extended. Realizing it would be unwise to offend Hsien Sgam at the +outset, the Englishman accepted the proffered hand. + +"I am delighted to see you,"--Hsien Sgam paused deliberately and +smiled--"Mr. Tavernake." And he added: "We may converse without fear of +being overheard; there are no eavesdroppers in my house. Will you sit +down? I was unprepared for this visit, as I did not expect to receive +you until to-night, when I hoped to have you dine with me--which I still +hope you will do.... I trust no trouble brings you?" + +Trent, not surprised by the reception (for east of Suez a dagger lurks +beneath silk), carefully chose his words before he gave tongue to them. + +"I've come to report a loss," he announced, looking directly at Hsien +Sgam. + +"Ah!" The Mongol uttered the expletive softly. + +A long pause followed, each man waiting for the other to resume. Hsien +Sgam took the initiative. + +"I am desolated to learn that you have suffered a loss, though of what +nature I am not yet aware. We--er--find it very difficult to control +thievery in the city. May I inquire what you lost?" + +The bronze face was as expressionless as that of the Buddha it so +resembled. Nor was Trent's face any less impassive. It was as though +the two had drawn armor about them. + +"Last night," said the Englishman, "one of my muleteers disappeared." + +"Ah!" Again the soft expletive. "Is that strange--er--Mr. Tavernake? Is +it not likely that he deserted?" + +Trent went on: + +"He was attacked while returning from the festival with another +muleteer. The latter was wounded in the struggle, knocked unconscious; +and when he awakened his companion was gone. Since then I haven't seen +nor heard of the missing muleteer." + +A smile settled upon Hsien Sgam's beautiful face. Once more Trent caught +the illusion: eyes of Lucifer, face of Buddha. + +"Be assured, Mr. Tavernake, I shall do all in my limited power to learn +whither your--er--_muleteer_ has been spirited." + +Trent rested one hand upon his hip, touching the steel beneath the robe. + +"I understand," he began, "that last evening your chief councillor, +Na-chung, who was kind enough to accompany me to the ceremonies +yesterday, was missed from his home." + +Hsien Sgam limped back to his table; sat down; folded his hands upon the +surface. The close-cropped head rose, almost as a deformity, from the +dark crimson robe. In that instant he was both sinister and pathetic, +threatening and pleading. Trent saw him as a figure curiously detached +and aloof from human beings (the power of the man could not be denied), +as mentally grotesque and misshapen as his limb. + +"It is strange," he declared in those chosen, precise words of his, +"that the two disappeared on the same night, your _muleteer_ and my +chief councillor. It is quite"--the slant eyes smiled--"quite +coincidental." A pause. "Do I--er--strike the nail on the head, as they +put it in your country, when I say that you come for a twofold purpose: +to solicit my aid in finding your _muleteer_, and to inform me that you +have discovered a clue that might lead to the very excellent Na-chung? +In other words, you suggest a compromise: I agree to direct my efforts +toward recovering your--er--lost one, if you produce the clue that will +lead us to the councillor." + +Another smile. Trent, too, smiled--only inwardly. There was something +droll in the situation. + +"Did you consider," the Mongol continued, "that--er--my duties may be +quite pressing and that I might find it difficult to spare the time to +devote to searching for your--_muleteer_?" + +"But surely," Trent parleyed, "in return for the service I can render, +you will find it convenient to spare time enough to repay me?" + +Hsien Sgam's eyes contemplated the surface of the table; his fingers +worked with nervous energy. + +"Suppose," he suggested, "even _then_ I find it impossible to respond to +a suggestion that under other conditions and at another time would be +welcome. What then?" + +"Then," answered Trent, "I should call the compromise a failure." + +Silence. Presently Hsien Sgam spoke: + +"Let us cast aside pretenses," he said in his quiet, restrained manner. +"You have brought--I hesitate to say it--war into my camp, so to speak, +and you expect me to accept the first terms that are offered." He linked +his hands together. "That is impossible, Mr. Tavernake." He rose. There +was a queer majesty about him. "Nor do I think it wise for you to resort +to--to crude enforcements such as you now contemplate." He smiled with +self-assurance. "Consider the results. You would not gain your +objective; you would be acting as did the man in your very excellent +English parable about a fowl and a golden egg." + +Then he lifted his hand and rapped upon the table--and almost instantly +the door behind Trent opened. The Englishman did not turn, though he +heard the footsteps of more than one. + +"Suppose"--this suavely from the Mongol--"we declare an armistice, as it +were, until to-night? It will afford me great pleasure to offer you the +hospitality of my residence and thus eliminate the inconvenience of +riding back to your house in the midday sun. At eight o'clock to-night +we will dine--is not that the conventional European hour?--at which time +we can discuss a compromise. Also the duties which you shall assume in +Shingtse-lunpo." + +He spoke a few words in what Trent imagined was Tibetan to those +standing behind the Englishman. Then he addressed Trent again. + +"Shall I be presuming if I suggest that you give into my keeping that +which you have under your robe?" He smiled. "You see, not being familiar +with the customs of my country, you are not aware that it is considered +an act of discourtesy for a guest to keep any sort of firearm during a +visit, no matter how brief. You will forgive me for assuming the role of +instructor?" + +Trent drew the revolver from beneath his garments; passed it to Hsien +Sgam. The latter accepted it with the air of one receiving a token of +surrender. He bowed slightly. + +"Now you will accompany my servants to the guest chamber, which I trust +you will find comfortable, although it is not quite up to the standard +of those of your very modern country." + +Trent turned. Two soldiers, each armed with ancient-looking jewelled +pistols, were standing just within the doorway. He left the room between +the guards. + + +2 + +To a room on the second story of the Governor's residence Trent was +taken. An iron door shut with strident clangor behind him. He saw +neither lock nor bolt as he entered, and, after waiting for several +moments, he tried the door, a purely perfunctory act. To his surprise it +swung back--and showed him, in the corridor-gloom, two mailed, armed +soldiers. This was the first eye-proof of captivity. + +Trent closed the door and delivered his attention to the room. It was +large and of stone, and gory frescoes were painted upon the wall-panels. +There were two windows, each barred and offering a view of the city--a +waste of terraced white, almost blinding in the sunlight, crowned by the +monastery and its golden roofs. Trent peered out of one window, then the +other. Both looked down upon a wide roadway. For a moment he gazed at +the few monks and soldiers that came and went below, then moved to a +bench fixed against the wall and sank heavily, with the uncertain air of +a drunken man, upon the red cushions. There was the same suggestion of +intoxication in his eyes, which were veined with red from loss of sleep. + +He removed his mushroom-shaped hat and furrowed his black-dyed hair. His +was the despair of a gambler who has plunged, who perceives defeat for +himself in the first hand and after that plays without hope, with only +the will to hope. + +Like something remote and beyond reach, something dim as a dream, was +the thought of Dana Charteris. His interview with Hsien Sgam drove out +the mystery surrounding her abduction, but left an infinitude of +apprehensions. The purpose that actuated the Mongol to such a move was +not obscure. Yet if she were a hostage, he need not fear for her +safety--for the present. Eight o'clock--much hinged on that. What would +the Mongol demand? + +A deeper tide of thoughts brought to focus interests other than +personal. If Sarojini Nanjee succeeded in her venture, she would be +waiting at the Great Magician's Gate at the appointed time. And if he +was still a prisoner then? But, even if he succeeded in freeing himself, +he could not go without Dana Charteris. Nor could he abandon Kerth.... +Knotted cords, and apparently no loose ends with which to work. His only +foil was the fact that he held the secret of Na-chung's whereabouts--a +slim weapon with which to fight a more cunningly armed opponent. + +Kerth. Where was Kerth now? In Lhakang-gompa? How could he get word to +him? Bribe the soldiers? He dared not try; his message might fall into +Hsien Sgam's hands and thus destroy Kerth's chances.... But he did not +know where to reach Kerth--a difficulty he had entirely overlooked. + +He rose, and his eyes wandered about the room. As a matter of course, he +tried the bars of the windows. His efforts led only to a fuller +realization of his plight. Taken without violence, in a room with an +unlocked door, he was as securely confined as though he were chained and +in a dungeon. + +He returned to the bench to wait--wait for eight o'clock. As the minutes +dragged by his nerves underwent a gradual disintegration. Anxiety, +mental and physical weariness--they were the destroying forces. He +walked the floor.... It was exquisite torture, this waiting; something +inquisitional about it. He fled from it, in thoughts, to Dana Charteris, +as a persecuted worshipper to the healing coolness and quiet of temple +corridors.... + +Sunlight ceased to reflect its glare upon the whitewashed houses, and +the gilded roofs of Lhakang-gompa floated in the gathering twilight like +islands on a dusky sea. A rosy light spread above the city, above the +towering lamasery, and deepened from pink to sullen red, like the +flaming promise of an angry Stromboli. There was something sinisterly +significant--a devil's symbol--in the sunset; thrice significant to +Trent as he paced his prison and watched the crimson dye staining the +city. For what seemed little more than a moment Shingtse-lunpo swam in +the wine-light as in blood; then night touched sun-scorched walls with +soothing hands and drew a veil of secrecy over the sprawling mass of +houses. + +As the luminous hands of Trent's watch approached eight o'clock he heard +sounds outside his door--footsteps and muffled tones. Figuratively, he +gave himself into the hands of his kismet. + +The door opened. Polished armor shone in the dimly lighted hall. A hand +beckoned to him. Between armed soldiers he left the room and descended +to the lower floor. + +Hsien Sgam, in his robes of office, stood waiting in the scarlet chamber +where he had received Trent that morning; and his greeting,--the +quintessence of irony--his quiet, self-assured smile, made Trent falter +in his diplomatic resolution to sheathe his antagonism. + +One of the soldiers drew aside a scarlet curtain, revealing an arched +doorway and, beyond, a long, dim hall. There a table was set. Tapers in +a European candelabrum threw flickering light upon European silverware. + +"You will observe," said Hsien Sgam, with a wave of his slender hand, +"that I have been educated to your manner of eating. I generally relapse +into barbarism, but this is an occasion--a celebration, as it were, in +honor of the arrival of the first Englishman in Shingtse-lunpo." + +Hsien Sgam sat across the table from Trent, and behind him--grim +reminders of his power--stood two soldiers, one on either side of the +scarlet-curtained archway. It was clear that the Mongol was not a +gambler.... Three Tibetan women, their faces smeared with kutch, served. +There was little pretense at conversation, and the trying mockery of the +meal was half over before Hsien Sgam broke the prolonged strain. + +"Let us not be deceived," he began, "but understand each other at the +very start; let us, as you would say, commence with clean slates." He +smiled over a cup of tea--tea brewed in the English fashion, and not the +sickening gruel that masquerades under that name in Tibet. "As you have +probably guessed, I know you are not he who the very beautiful Sarojini +Nanjee would have me believe you--one Tavernake, a jeweller--but Major +Trent--er--Major Arnold Ralph Trent, R. A. M. C., I believe is the full +title, working in the interests of those who would commit the lamentable +mistake of interfering with the affairs of others." + +The Mongol continued to smile. "Furthermore, let it be understood that +the fact that I know this does not in the least prejudice me against +you. That one is blind is not his own fault. To enlighten you, to give +you true sight--that is my purpose." + +Trent met Hsien Sgam's gaze with unwavering eyes. + +"At one time you were prejudiced," he suggested pointedly. + +The smile seemed painted immortally upon the Mongol's bronze face. He +nodded slightly. + +"You refer, I presume, to the incident at Rangoon--when I came near +committing a grave error? For the while I was deluded into believing it +would be wiser for you not to continue to Shingtse-lunpo; I now see that +I was wrong. I crave your forgiveness for that--er--almost +indiscretion." + +Once more the grim humor of the situation, the grotesquery of it, became +apparent to Trent. This anomaly of a creature! Eternally the two +elements of his being seemed warring--the Lucifer and the Buddha. + +"Perhaps you will understand more clearly," said Hsien Sgam, "if I go +back into the years--the years of the locust, your Christian Bible calls +them.... You will forgive the fact that I am personal. It is +necessary." + +He spoke to one of the serving-women and she disappeared behind a +curtain, to return a moment later with a silver tray. Trent almost +laughed aloud; perhaps it was the tension.... Cigarettes!... He welcomed +the smoke; it would clear his brain. Both he and the Mongol lighted +their cheroots in a candle-flame. The latter's face seemed to swim in +the blue clouds, his woman's-mouth twisted into that persistent, graven +smile. + +"I am an experiment," Hsien Sgam commenced. "Whether a success or a +failure, I will let you judge. It is the custom in Mongolia to deliver +one child from every family to the lamas for monastic training. I was +chosen from a group of four brothers and destined from birth for holy +orders. Very early--so early that I cannot quite remember it--I was +given into the charge of the abbot of a monastery at Urga. I was a--I +believe 'acolyte' is your word for it. When I was fourteen there was a +celebration at Urga; it is called the Ts'am Haren. During the races I +was injured; my pony fell on my limb. I was ill for many days. When I +grew better they told me I would be lame, always.... That very night my +mother had a vision: she saw me harnessed in golden mail and upon a +white horse, leading a great army. I was on a mountain-top, she said, +with legions about me, on the slopes and in the valleys; and at my feet +was Asia. She saw a flame, with the face of Timur the Lame in it, +descend into my body. Thus the soul of the great conqueror came to rest +in the body of her second born." + +The smile had faded from Hsien Sgam's face; there was in his eyes a glow +that hid the devil-light. All the beauty of Buddha shone upon the bronze +features. + +"That was how I became a--what is the word?--messiah?" He went on: "A +conference of the princes was held in the palace of the Hut'ukt'u, and +it was proposed that I be sent to acquire the learning of the white +lords. The Hut'ukt'u opposed it, for he was afraid that eventually I +would have more power than he. But in the night I was taken away, by +swiftest camel, and with the treasure of my house in goatskin bags. My +mother accompanied me to Kalgan, then turned back--but my father went on +to Peking. The Manchu woman was on the throne at the time. She had heard +that a Mongol prince was being sent away to be educated in Western +schools and return and establish an independent empire, and she, like +the Hut'ukt'u, was afraid. She sent assassins. I escaped--but my +father...." + +He shrugged; smiled. The shining look went from his face; his beauty was +again that of Lucifer, the fallen angel. + +"So I went. I studied after the manner of Englishmen.... I wonder"--he +leaned across the table toward Trent--"I wonder if you can understand my +feelings there, a boy, in an alien land? Gray buildings and rushing +trains and electricity--the roar of a modern Babylon--after yourts and +camels and candlelight! There where men denounce polygamy and encourage +prostitution! + +"It was a slow death to me, a numbness that commenced in my limbs and +rose up--up--until it touched the very source of my thinking. Your +Civilization with its civilized vices plucked something vital, something +unexplainable, from me.... But I stayed; I learned; and when I had +finished, I returned. But not as he who had left--who had wept when his +father fell under the blade of a Manchu assassin. I had gone as the +dreamer; I came back as the awakened sleeper, incensed toward those who +had replaced visions with sordid reality.... That was in the year that +Christian calendars call nineteen hundred and four--the year Tubdan +Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, forsook Lhassa." + +Their cheroots had burned out. The scent of stale tobacco hung in the +air like an unclean aura. To Trent it seemed the essence of Hsien Sgam's +story--his tragedy. + +"The Dalai Lama came to Urga," Hsien Sgam continued. "The Hut'ukt'u was +jealous of him and he made his stay as unpleasant as possible. But +before the Dalai Lama left, I spent many hours with him. Our cause was +progressing slowly when the revolution against the Manchus came; then +Yuan Shih-kai, and the restoration of Tubdan Gyatso. But the Church had +lost much power. A conference was called at Lhassa and it was decided +that a new Head be formed--an invisible Head, unknown to the English and +other aggressors. Shingtse-lunpo was chosen. It became the Head of the +Church--a sort of Vatican. It was the will of Gaudama Siddartha that a +certain Grand Lama's body should be the vessel for his spirit. Thus came +the title of Sakya-muni to His Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naktsang, the +Supreme Lama of the Gelugpa. It was also deemed advisable by the Council +of Lamas that I should go to the new monastery of the Head and be +invested with the power of Governor of the city. I was to be +a--er--connecting link between Tibet and Mongolia. + +"Dorjieff, the Buriat monk, had promised us the aid of Russia. +Frequently, before the invasion of Lhassa, he acted as an intermediary +between the Czar and the Dalai Lama, and on one occasion the Russian +emperor sent Tubdan Gyatso the vestments of a--how is it called?--a +bishop?--of the Russian church. But the Russian monarch fell in the war, +and hope of Russian aid dwindled. China was strangling Mongolia; Tibet +had asserted her rights. Then came the Kiachta Convention. We thought we +had won. But the Hut'ukt'u is a coward. With Semenov on one side, +threatening, and Japan on the other (it developed later that both were +the same), he became frightened.... You know what happened." + +Hsien Sgam passed cigarettes to Trent, who refused; selected one +himself; lighted it. + +"It appeared that we were facing defeat," he resumed. "We had no +money--perhaps a little in the treasuries, but not enough to propagate +our plans. It seemed imminent that Japan would build the Kalgan-Kiachta +railway, and such a thing would mean the end of the dream of a Mongol +empire.... Ah, these railways! Keys to power! French--er--capital is +behind the Chinese-Eastern Railway. Also the Yunnan Railways. The South +Manchurian and the Shantung railways are Japanese-controlled. Chinese +sovereignty in the districts where there are foreign-owned railways is a +mere word. + +"Thus it would be in Mongolia, if the Kalgan-Kiachta railway were built +by Japanese money. But how could it be stopped? Mongolia herself had no +money. The only way was, as I once told you, through revolution. +Establish Mongolian control and refuse a concession to any power to +construct the rail line. And that way, too, was obstructed by lack +of--er--funds.... Then the gods sent an answer to our prayers in the +form of a foreigner--a man whom you know by the name of Andre Chavigny." + +The muscles of Trent's jaw moved perceptibly at this announcement; +otherwise, he sat motionless, hands grasping the edge of the table, eyes +upon Hsien Sgam. + +"There was a very great disturbance in Lhakang-gompa," the Mongol +pressed on, "when it was reported one day that a white man had been +discovered--er--masquerading in the city. His Holiness charged me to +interview the prisoner and ascertain how much he had learned. This I +did, and you may imagine my amazement upon discovering that this white +man was the Andre Chavigny of whom I had heard in Europe. + +"His true purpose in Shingtse-lunpo I have never learned from his lips, +but I am of the opinion that he might have been deluded by fantastic +tales of jewels and wealth in the vaults of Lhakang-gompa. He knew he +had seen too much to be allowed to leave; that is why he made me a most +amazing--er--proposition. I believe I can recall the very words he +uttered. He said: 'I have heard of your plans for a revolt against +China. Give me my life and I will finance you.'" + +Hsien Sgam laughed--a low, soft sound. + +"Conceive the situation, major: this adventuring Frenchman, with only a +few _tengas_, offering to finance the revolution! It was--do you say, +_droll_? But I listened to him. In this very room we talked, and he sat +where you are sitting now. He has a tongue as of satin. He talked for +his life that night, and what he told me amazed me. I did not believe it +could be done at first. I told him so, and sent him to the guest chamber +which you occupied, while I thought and thought.... I went out on the +city-walls. I looked toward Mongolia--Mongolia dying--and I realized +that this Andre Chavigny should live." + +The serving-women had disappeared; Trent and the Mongol were alone but +for the two mailed sentinels at the doorway. + +"It is not difficult for you to imagine what Andre Chavigny told me," +said Hsien Sgam. "Before venturing into Tibet he had been in India--had +visited the cities of Baroda, Indore, Gwalior.... He had seen jewels +worth many millions of English pounds. He had seen and planned--only +planned. Of those gems he told me--of his plan, too. He had observed, +he said, the monks of Shingtse-lunpo cutting coral and turquoise +ornaments; therefore, why could not they, under the proper direction, +re-cut and re-set diamonds and emeralds and rubies? He knew +of a market--_sub rosa_ is the expression he used. And for a +certain--er--percentage--he offered to finance the revolution. + +"I presented the plan to His Holiness--with my approval--and after hours +of contemplation he announced that the gods had sanctioned his consent. +So the Order of the Falcon was formed--the Falcon, whose speedy wings +would enable him to defeat the Japanese Black Dragon. + +"When all arrangements were completed, Andre Chavigny and I, with a few +associates, set out for India--through Burma, as you came here. Andre +Chavigny went to Indore, I to Jehelumpore, other members of the Order to +Baroda, Gwalior, Alwar, Jodpur, Tanjore, Bahawalpur and Mysore. +Meanwhile, the abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was journeying with a band of +pilgrims to the Sacred Bo-tree at Buddh-Gaya. + +"In the work which I had to do at Jehelumpore it became necessary for me +to cultivate some one who had--_entree_, the French say--who had +_entree_ into the Nawab's palace. The gods decreed that it should be +Sarojini Nanjee. I met her. And to me, for the first time, came love of +woman." + +Hsien Sgam's smile underwent a metamorphosis--became the smile of one +who tastes the gall of a bitter memory. Again, as on that night on the +_Manchester_, Trent felt the heat of his words--words drawn from the +vortices of emotion. + +"I tell you this," explained the Mongol, "a thing I have told no man, so +that you may fully understand.... _Shinje!_ How I loved! I was the monk +awakened to the world: desiring, as a man who sees a spring in the +desert thirsts--blindly, extravagantly.... I told her of my dream of +empire; I offered her a throne, and she consented to come to Tibet. Thus +Sarojini Nanjee became a member of the Order of the Falcon--and my +betrothed. + +"Then came the night of June the fourteenth. You, as well as the English +police, wondered how the jewels were removed when every border, every +means of egress, was guarded. It was not difficult; it merely +necessitated extreme caution. The day following the disappearance +of the gems a _coffin_ left each of the cities, accompanied by +some--er--'relative' of the 'deceased.' These"--his smile +expanded--"were delivered to the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka and his lamas. +After that, it was very simple. The jewels went with the pilgrims to +Darjeeling. Then--" He gestured expressively. + +A pause followed. Before Hsien Sgam took up his narrative he pressed his +nearly burnt-out cigarette into a bowl--stared at the ashes as though +each gray fleck was the dust of a dream. + +"I was in Delhi when I first heard of you--and that Sarojini Nanjee had +betrayed me.... Betrayed by the woman I loved!... At first I was +puzzled as to how to meet this situation--that is, your entrance into +our sphere of activities; whether to--to do away with you, or allow you +to continue until a later time. I decided upon the latter course, for it +suddenly occurred to me that you, being a military man, might +be--er--persuaded to direct your efforts into another channel. A servant +of mine in the employ of Sarojini Nanjee--a man named Chandra Lal--kept +me acquainted with your every move. Thus I was able to take the same +boat as you and to realize I had been wise in assuming you might prove +of more value alive than ... otherwise. In Rangoon I suffered a moment +of indecision, and almost defeated my original purpose. By what happened +I saw that the gods disapproved of my--er--quenching the vital spark, as +the Kanjur says. + +"I ordered your presence at the festival yesterday because I wished you +to see how we dispose of traitors. The men who died were members of the +Order who committed grave--er--errors.... And speaking of errors reminds +me to acquaint you with the fate which you would have met to-night had +not I intervened." + +He rose and limped across the room, halting at a window whose draperies +were drawn. He faced Trent. + +"I am informed that Sarojini Nanjee, with the aid of the Great Magician, +penetrated through the old passage into the Armory," he declared +quietly, "and that she plans to leave the city to-night--with you. I am +also told that she has led you to believe that you will travel to +India--while she secretly conspires to have you murdered after leaving +Shingtse-lunpo. This is for a twofold purpose, I understand. She wishes +to rid herself of your presence, so she may continue with the jewels to +Chinese Turkestan; and the other reason.... Well, I--er--believe there +is an old wrong which she wishes to avenge. Last night a messenger left +for India, with instructions from her to report to your Government that +you have fled across Tibet, presumably to Mongolia, with the +jewels--that you ran amuck, as it were." + +He parted the window-draperies with one hand, motioning to Trent with +the other. The Englishman got to his feet and joined him. + +"Observe those men," Hsien Sgam directed, indicating a group of soldiers +in the courtyard. "Within an hour they start for the ruined gateway of +the old fortifications on the edge of the marsh, outside the city. +Sarojini Nanjee must pass these ruins if she leaves Shingtse-lunpo, as +the road from the Great Magician's Gate leads directly to the old +gateway. There my men will wait. They have specific orders what to +do.... Sarojini Nanjee will attend to the Great Magician and thus +relieve me of that task." + +The curtain dropped into place. Trent was struggling with insurgent +thoughts.... Sarojini Nanjee--eleven o'clock.... Kerth.... Where was +he--and Dana Charteris?... He sorted from the many incoherences a +question that had been trembling on his tongue for the past half hour. + +"What of Chavigny?" he asked. + +"Chavigny?" Hsien Sgam repeated. "You will meet Chavigny before many +hours." + +Trent was possessed of a mad desire to laugh. Who was telling the truth, +Sarojini Nanjee or Hsien Sgam?... Chavigny, the celebrated Chavigny! + +"As I told you one night on shipboard," he heard the Mongol saying, "our +troops are good fighters, but untrained. They need a competent leader--a +tactician. Organization; training. Those are the necessary elements. And +they must be taught with the technique of modern warfare, by some one +who understands the mechanism of a great unit of men. If you will accept +that post, your title will be that of Commanding General. From +Shingtse-lunpo you will go into Inner Mongolia, where preparations are +under way to launch a big offensive. We have already taken a few +strides. On the fifth of this month Urga was captured and Ungern's +'White Guards' defeated. But without organized force all this work will +have been accomplished for nothing.... You will be well repaid for your +services. When I am Emperor of Mongolia I shall not forget." + +Trent's aggressive jaw was shot forward; but for that his expression was +unchanged. + +"You seem to forget I am an Englishman," he reminded. + +Hsien Sgam merely smiled. "Men have lost their identities before. +Sarojini Nanjee's messenger is on his way to India. That will account +for your absence to the Government." + +Trent looked almost amused. "A sort of birthright-for-a-mess-of-pottage +affair, isn't it?" + +"I do not comprehend"--thus the Mongol. + +Trent did not try to explain. He queried: "What if I prefer to do +otherwise than as you suggest?" + +"I am prepared against such a decision." That lurking smile returned. +"Na-chung, who is a very wise councillor, suspected that your _muleteer_ +was--er--not as you represented him--or, I should say, _her_. I ordered +an investigation.... That you were accompanied by a woman, evidently one +to whom you are--er--attached, was all I could have wished for.... I +acted. She has not been molested; nor will she be, if you accept the +terms which I have offered." + +Trent's nails dug fiercely into his palms. It was with an effort that he +kept his face in an expressionless mold. + +"And if I agree?" + +"She will be returned to India, unharmed and with the proper escort." + +"How can I be sure of that?" + +"She will write to you from Darjeeling." + +"You forget the councillor, Na-chung." + +"We shall find him," Hsien Sgam stated confidently. + +"Dead," Trent added. "He is hidden--hidden where you'll not easily find +him. My muleteers are there--with instructions--and if they have not +heard from me by midnight, they'll put an end to Na-chung." + +Hsien Sgam continued to smile. "You will countermand that order," he +said evenly. + +"No," declared Trent, quite as evenly. + +They faced each other for a space of seconds, neither speaking. Then the +Mongol announced: + +"If he is murdered, you will be charged with it and properly +punished"--he paused and finished effectively--"_after_ you have done +the work which I intend you shall do. Otherwise, at the conclusion of +the period of service you are free." + +A reckless impulse stormed the battlement of Trent's control. Hsien Sgam +seemed to sense it, for he spoke up. + +"Consider well, major. One pays for a moment's folly in the coin of +years." + +What passed in Trent's mind the next few moments no man ever knew; it is +doubtful if even Trent himself remembered afterward. His thoughts were +laved in poison.... He felt something of purgatorial fire--a burning of +brain and nerves. But in the heat was a sphere of starry luster--a face, +alone cool and composed in the midst of what seemed some terrific +volcanic disorder of the body. It was this luster that led him at length +to a decision. + +"There's no alternative." He heard his voice in a queer, separated +manner. "When I have proof that Miss Charteris has reached India, I will +do as you demand ... but...." + +"But if you have the opportunity," Hsien Sgam cut in, linking his +slender fingers and smiling, "you will furnish me with a passport to +that--er--sulphurous dominion which your Christian Bible threatens. Be +assured, major, I shall guard against any such--er--personal +catastrophe." + +Then he spoke to one of the soldiers, who immediately left the room. He +turned back to Trent. + +"We will go now--this very moment--to His Holiness, and--er--draw up the +contract, so to speak, in his auspicious presence. This visit to +Lhakang-gompa will serve a double purpose, for at the same time I shall +initiate you into the mysteries of '_Thatsang_,' or 'Falcon's Nest,' as +you would say it--the room where the Falcon planned the recent +activities in India. It will be necessary for you to ride to the +monastery; therefore, I must have your word of honor not to--er--commit +any act of violence that might force me to adopt an abortive policy." + +The soldier reappeared, holding aside the scarlet curtains. + +"You will precede me," directed Hsien Sgam, with a polite wave of his +hand, evidently enjoying the exquisite satire of the situation. + +Trent moved into the scarlet audience-chamber, followed by his +Transparency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo and his mailed bodyguard. + + +3 + +To Trent there was grim irony in that ride to Lhakang-gompa. Hsien +Sgam's vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair swayed along at his side, and in +front and rear was a file of leather-helmeted men. In a courtyard of the +great building (they rode up a stone causeway to reach it) the Mongol +left his sedan-chair and Trent dismounted. One of the soldiers took the +lead, Trent walking next, with Hsien Sgam and the other guards in the +rear--a formation whose strategic points the Englishman did not fail to +perceive. + +With their entrance into the lower halls of Lhakang-gompa the usual +smell of incense and putridity, a combination of odors peculiarly +Tibetan, assaulted their nostrils and clung as they climbed staircase +after staircase; as they plunged along lamp-lit corridors where lamas +moved like wraiths in the dimness; crossed courts and roofs, glimpsing +the stars and the white flame of a rising moon; and even when they +reached a heavily-carpeted, crimson-walled apartment that Hsien Sgam +informed Trent was the first ante-chamber of Sakya-muni's audience hall. +A large room, this, and occupied by several lamas who sat at +pearl-inlaid tables--chamberlains of the Yellow Pontiff. To one of these +cardinals Hsien Sgam spoke, and the former parted lacquered +sliding-doors and disappeared. + +"I am told that His Holiness has been indisposed to-day," Hsien Sgam +explained to Trent, "and has refused to see anyone, even his attendant +cardinals. However, the _Donyer-chenpo_ has gone to see if he will grant +us an audience." + +Trent showed little interest as they waited--but the pulse in his +throat was throbbing hotly. He watched with expressionless eyes the +lacquered doors from behind which the _Donyer-chenpo_, or chamberlain, +would reappear. And at length the cardinal came. The doors parted and he +stepped out, motioning to Hsien Sgam. The latter moved forward and held +a short conversation with the prelate, then nodded to Trent, who, with +the soldiers at his heels, joined them. + +"His Holiness has consented to see us"--this briefly from the Mongol. + +Beyond the lacquered doors was a stairway that took them into a chamber +similar to the one they had left. Two lamas were the only occupants, one +on either side of a great door covered with cerise and gold brocade and +ornamented with knobs of gold filagree. Here they exchanged their shoes +for soft black slippers, and here they left the soldiers. + +The _Donyer-chenpo_ pushed back the great door. They entered. Trent was +confused by darkness; then came a swishing sound, and a thin line of +light broadened into a triangle as draperies were pulled aside. + +The first impression, due to the vastness of the audience hall and the +dim glow of the butter-lamps, was one of space and gloom and mystery. A +double line of pillars strove toward a chain-spanned impluvium through +which stars were visible, and along the walls were idols and holy +vessels-brazen bowls and cymbals and incense-burners. Toward the rear, +at the end of the avenue of columns, was a raised portion of the floor, +covered with yellow silks. There, beneath a canopy and seated upon a +throne whose arms were carved lions, attended by the _Kuchar Khanpo_ and +the _Solen-chenpo_--state officials--was his Holiness, Sakya-muni, the +Grand Lama of Tibet. He wore the yellow mitre, yellow veil and yellow +vestments that Trent had seen at the Festival of the Gods, and his slim +hands rested motionless, as though wrought of bronze, upon the carved +lions of the throne. + +Hsien Sgam bowed low, whispering to Trent to do the same. As the latter +drew erect he saw that the _Donyer-chenpo_ had disappeared; the +following instant he heard the muffled sound of a closing door behind +him. + +Meanwhile, Sakya-muni motioned them forward, his yellow mitre nodding. + +"His Holiness means for us to be seated on the rugs below the +throne-dais," said Hsien Sgam in a hushed voice. + +The two, Englishman and Mongol, took seats, cross-legged, upon the +carpets before the raised portion of the floor that supported the +pontifical throne. A thin voice sounded from under the veil.... + +"His Holiness bids you greeting," translated Hsien Sgam, "and prays that +the blessing of the Three Konchog be upon you. In return, I shall give +him your"--the shadow of a smile slid across the oblique +eyes--"your--er--felicitations." + +The two yellow-robed attendants then served tea in golden chalices. +Sakya-muni did not drink his, but blessed it and passed it to the +_Kuchar Khanpo_.... Incense brushed Trent's face, like a tangible +touch.... The ceremony of tea-drinking over, he waited restlessly for +the next move. + +The Grand Lama spoke in his thin voice to the attendants, who backed to +a corridor at one side of the audience-hall and vanished, leaving Trent +and Hsien Sgam alone with the Living Buddha.... Sakya-muni was murmuring +to himself--reciting a _mantra_, Trent imagined. There was something +checked and imminent in the solemn quiet.... + +Suddenly Sakya-muni ceased murmuring. He lifted one hand. Immediately +Hsien Sgam got to his feet, instructing Trent to do the same. The Grand +Lama rose, his yellow vestments shimmering faintly in the +cathedral-dusk. He spoke. Trent, who was watching the Mongol out of the +corner of his eye, saw a look of surprise dwell for a second in the +latter's face; saw Hsien Sgam produce from under his garments an object +that glinted like blue steel; saw him pass it to Sakya-muni. + +Then the reincarnation of Gaudama Siddartha removed mitre and veil with +one hand (he held the glinting object in the other) and stepped down +from the dais--only it was not Sakya-muni who did this, but Euan Kerth +in the vestments of the Lamaist pontiff; Euan Kerth, smiling his satanic +smile and looking like some shaven-pated Mephistopheles. + + +4 + +The blood pulsed in Trent's temples. For once his stupefaction escaped +the citadel of his impassivity. Nor could Hsien Sgam control his +amazement. The Mongol stared--stared with the air of a man struggling to +grasp something beyond his ken of thought, beyond possibility. + +Kerth's voice broke the spell--proof to Trent that what he saw was no +sorcery of the eyes. + +"I'm not so sure our friend the Governor has no other firearms on his +person. Suppose you investigate, major." + +At the sound of the voice, a voice that spoke English, Hsien Sgam seemed +to awaken to a realization of the situation. Surprise was replaced by a +queer, half-dazed expression. + +"I have been without wits," he said, more to himself than to the others. +"I did not for a moment consider that there might be two--that...." +Words perished on his lips. His breathing was audible--the heavy +breathing of one suddenly stricken. He recovered enough to ask: "His +Holiness--what have you done to him? Have you--" + +"It's hardly my place to answer questions," drawled Kerth; "surely not +my intention." Then: "Go ahead, major." + +As Trent approached, Hsien Sgam lifted his hand. + +"Am I to be forced to submit to the indignity of being searched?" + +Neither Englishman answered, but Trent paused tentatively. + +"If I give my word," Hsien Sgam pursued, "that I am unarmed, will not +that be sufficient?" + +"No weapon of any sort?"--thus Kerth, while his eyes sought Trent. The +latter inclined his head slightly. + +"None." + +Something of the Mongol's poise and dignity had reasserted itself, and a +faint, illusive smile--an almost tolerant smile--touched his +woman's-mouth. His slender hands worked nervously. + +"I daresay I can guess your thoughts." Kerth, who was smiling, addressed +Hsien Sgam. "Your Transparency thinks I dare not use this,"--fingering +the steel trigger-guard--"but in that you are mistaken. You must +remember that whereas you are Governor, I am--well--" He touched the +yellow vestments. + +As Trent watched Hsien Sgam, an emotion almost of pity smote him. He +felt the titanic conflict within the Mongol, the power--warped +power--behind the Buddha-like face and the heretofore puzzling eyes +(eyes that were no longer puzzling, but that mirrored the raw look of +ancient evil, the bitter corrosion of disappointment); power that was +facing defeat. Dream of empire, of pomp and regal splendor, rusted, as +his every dream had done.... An unfinished vessel, this Hsien Sgam. +(Fragments of the Mongol's story played like illuminating shafts among +Trent's thoughts: the boy who wept for his father--who felt the +strangle-grip of a great gray Babylon--the celibate to whom the wine of +love turned stale.) The gift of life to Hsien Sgam had been ashes. All +this Trent saw in his eyes--eyes that stared ahead with sick +contemplation. + +And now Hsien Sgam moved. He clasped his lithe, feminine hands; he took +a few steps, slueing upon his twisted limb; paused; stood motionless; +made a gesture of resignation. + +"I am defeated," he declared in his soft voice, "but you will sink with +me. It is as though you had ventured into a web; the threads will tangle +you, and, like flies, you will hang there and die." + +Kerth smiled. "Your teeth are extracted, Transparency," he replied. He +removed another revolver from under his pallium, offering it to Trent. +"Major, I think we can talk with more ease if we go to my"--this with a +smile--"my apartments. There are certain matters I wish to discuss with +his Transparency, and I fear we might be interrupted here." + +He moved around the dais, pausing by the yellow brocade that hung behind +the throne. + +"Suppose I walk first, then his Transparency, then you, major. I believe +that will prevent any complications." + +In the rear of the dais, concealed by yellow draperies, was a door that +gave access to a stairway. Kerth took the lead, his robes dragging upon +the stone steps. The stairs mounted at a steep grade, broke their ascent +on three landings, and brought them into a small space, facing +coral-hued curtains. As Kerth gripped the center of the hangings, +preparatory to parting them, he looked around, over his shoulder and +Hsien Sgam's close-cropped head, at Trent. + +"Be prepared, major," he drawled. "This is '_Thatsang_' or, as we would +say it, 'Falcon's Nest.'" He laughed--a low, rather grim chuckle. "You +stand face to face with the secret of Lhakang-gompa." + +With that he jerked the draperies apart and the clink of the metal rings +from which they hung sent a slight shiver down Trent's spine. He stepped +between the curtains, Hsien Sgam preceding him. He found himself in a +long room. Its floor and walls were bare. At the far end, in an +alcove-like space, raised and sectioned off from the rest of the +apartment by a half-partition, was a bed. Yak-hair curtains partly hid +it--only partly, for they did not conceal the limbs and the crimson +garment of the body that lay upon the gold-fringed bed-robe. + +Kerth had crossed the room. Now Trent halted at the break of the +partition, Hsien Sgam at his side. + +The face of the sleeper (Trent knew by the fall and rise of his breast +that he was not dead) was Aryan, but the shape of the eyelids and brows +suggested that the eyes, when open, were oblique. Lips thin and +sensitive; features of an ascetic. The skull was high and shaven as bare +as if hair had never grown upon it; a white bandage covered the right +temple and sloped over the dome.... Trent lifted his eyes from the pale, +yellow features to Kerth, who, with a slight smile, answered the +inquisitive look. + +"Sakya-muni is the Falcon." + +Trent looked down upon the wasted features; looked up again. + +"He's been unconscious since noon to-day," Kerth explained. "This +morning I attended a ceremony in the audience-hall. While I was saying a +_mantra_, the idea occurred to me.... I crept into one of the corridors +off the hall and hid there. When the lamas had gone, Sakya-muni went +behind the curtains in the rear of the throne, with two attendants. Soon +the attendants reappeared ... and I went up. Unfortunately, in the +tussle he struck his head. I'm afraid he's done up rather badly. Take a +look, major. Meanwhile, Transparency"--his eyes fastened upon the +Mongol--"be seated--here." + +He indicated an armchair and Hsien Sgam sat down. Trent bent over +Sakya-muni.... After several minutes he straightened up. + +"It's a bad cut, but I can't tell much without a closer examination. He +has fever--pulse running up, too." + +Hsien Sgam rose. "Is it quite serious, Major Trent? Do you think--" + +"You will resume your seat, Transparency," ordered Kerth. The Mongol +obeyed. "Now, major, tell me just what has happened to-day--and if +you've learned anything about Miss Charteris." + +Trent briefly summarized the situation. Kerth nodded absently when he +had finished; fingered his revolver. + +"We're a bit scattered," he commented. Then, after a pause: +"Transparency, you will be good enough to say where you've hidden Miss +Charteris." + +Hsien Sgam sat like a carved Buddha; even his fingers ceased their +restless playing upon the arms of the chair. + +"If I refuse?" + +Kerth thrust forward the blue muzzle of the revolver. "There's to be no +parleying," he declared sternly, the smile gone from his face. "You've +lost. Now come through." + +After a moment Hsien Sgam said: + +"She is at my residence." + +"Good"--this from Kerth. "Before we leave you will write an order to +have her taken to whatever place we specify." Then, as though dismissing +that point as settled, he went on: "Hmm.... Quite scattered, I'd say: +She at his house; we here; Trent's men with Na-chung; Sarojini Nanjee +getting ready to leave; his Transparency's soldiers hidden at the ruined +gate,"--a pause--"with orders to shoot Sarojini Nanjee.... Hmm...." +Suddenly he smiled. "Excellent!... What's the hour, major?" + +Trent pulled back his long sleeve. "Five to ten." + +Kerth spoke to Hsien Sgam. "You will also send a guard to your men at +the ruins, withdrawing them--but, no--no--won't do. Ends must meet.... +We can't trust a messenger. And we must let Sarojini Nanjee leave the +city, as she's planned; for she has the jewels--yet--damn!" His forehead +crinkled into a frown. "Damn!" he repeated. "Ends _must_ meet!" + +Silence followed. Hsien Sgam did not stir. Once a faint sound, a +shuddering sigh, came from the alcove-like space. Kerth was the first to +speak, and his smile hinted that he had discovered a solution. + +"You may not wholly approve, major," he began, "yet I see no other way. +Why not go ahead and meet Sarojini Nanjee? Meanwhile, I'll have Miss +Charteris freed, and she, in company with myself and his Transparency, +can leave the city by the main gate and Amber Bridge. We'll reach the +ruined gateway before you and Sarojini pass the Great Magician's Gate, +which will give his Transparency time to forestall the soldiers and send +them back to the city. Then we can wait, there at the gateway, for you. +Sarojini may not be particularly pleased when she learns of my presence; +but if she acts up, we have his Transparency to testify that she +intended to do away with an officer of the empire. That ought to +simplify her case." + +"What of my muleteers?" Trent queried. "And Na-chung?" + +"Na-chung isn't to be considered. As for your men--I can get word to +them to meet us at the main gate. If there's trouble we can make good +use of them. Of course, there's a risk--more for you than for me. +Something might prevent us from reaching the soldiers in time, and--" + +Hsien Sgam interrupted. + +"You forget his Holiness. Will you leave him to die?" + +"Hardly," Kerth answered. "After all that's happened, I fancy the +Viceroy will be pleased to--to _entertain_ his Holiness.... No, we +sha'n't leave him to die. If all goes well, Major Trent and I can +arrange to return to Lhakang-gompa." + +"You think," said Hsien Sgam, "it will be easy to leave the city?" + +Kerth made a deprecatory gesture. "That is not difficult. I shall ride +in the sedan-chair of His Holiness Sakya-muni, and until we pass Amber +Bridge your Transparency will sit beside me to prevent any interference +with our plans. There you may change to a pony and ride between two of +the major's muleteers. Your own palanquin will be put to good use, as +Miss Charteris can occupy that. And after we leave Shing-tse-lunpo, then +to the South--Gyangtse--and into India." + +Hsien Sgam smiled--that smile of inscrutable irony. + +"You are only crawling deeper into the web," he asserted quietly. "It +will fall upon you and you will go--like that--" The lithe hands spread +out expressively. + +Kerth coolly returned his smile. "If we're caught, you'll perish with +us, in the same web. Threats are useless, Transparency. The scales have +tilted. And your attitude doesn't become a prisoner. We can carry out +our plans with you or without you, although much smoother with you. +Accept my ultimatum--_unconditional surrender_--or reject it." + +Hsien Sgam's lips twisted into that ineffaceable smile. His quiescence +was absolute. + +"You understand, if I thought my--my demise would prevent you from +executing your plans, I would not hesitate to--er--clog the machinery. +But it would be suicide without a purpose. Therefore, I can only +accept." + +"Unconditionally?" + +"Unconditionally." + +Hsien Sgam's chin sank into his breast. + +"Now, major, do you approve of my plan?" asked Kerth. "If so, we'll go +to the audience hall and I'll order the men to take you to your +residence, and his Transparency and I will despatch messengers for Miss +Charteris and your muleteers." + +Trent nodded. + +Kerth placed the mitre upon his head and let the veil fall over his +features. A blue steel eye glittered in the folds of his robes--an eye +that was focussed upon Hsien Sgam. + +"Come, Transparency!" + +Kerth leading, they left Falcon's Nest; left it with its silence and its +brooding secrets. + + +5 + +A few minutes later Kerth was seated on the throne of Sakya-muni (Trent +and Hsien Sgam stood on the red carpets before the dais) and reaching +toward a gong that hung from one of the carved lions of the chair. +Following the mellow ring, the curtains in the other end of the chamber +parted to admit the _Donyer-chenpo_, who bowed and stood waiting. + +The thin voice sounded from under the yellow veil--a stream of Tibetan +words. Trent wondered, irrelevantly, if it was really Kerth who +spoke--Kerth of the satanic smile. + +And now he saw the yellow-robed figure motioning him to leave, and +backed slowly to where the _Donyer-chenpo_ stood; backed between the +parted draperies; and the curtains dropped, and he was in darkness. + +In the first ante-chamber the _Donyer-chenpo_ resumed his seat at the +nacre-inlaid desk, among the other cardinals, and Trent continued with +the soldiers. Back through the courts and corridors they went (each +glimpse of the stars brought to Trent a sweet recollection of another +lustrous pallor), and down the innumerable staircases. They emerged at +length into the courtyard where the horses were waiting; mounted; rode +out of Lhakang-gompa and down the causeway. + +Afterward, Trent could remember no single incident of that brief ride +from the lamasery; it was a panorama of moon and white walls and +darkness. The bewildering events of the past few hours had left him in a +state of mental confusion. The soldiers wheeled about at his gate, and +he rode into the deserted quadrangle alone. + +He was about to dismount when a shadow detached itself from the gloom of +the garden--the garden, with its flaming hollyhocks. (Odd that he should +think of flowers now!) It was the long-haired guide of the previous +night. He grunted what Trent supposed was a greeting, and caught the +bridle, guiding the pony back to the gate. Trent turned for a last look +at the dark dwelling--the house where he first partook of the lover's +eucharist. Then the Tibetan swung himself upon the pony, behind him, +clamping his knees upon the beast's flanks, and Trent inhaled the reek +of soiled clothing. + +Through familiar streets they clattered, and over a stone bridge toward +the city's ramparts. Few people were astir; dogs prowled in the lurking +shadows. The temple of the Great Magician had a ghostly semblance as +they approached it; its dome was spattered with moonlight, like a huge +anthill flecked with drippings of glow-paint. Something in the sight of +the bulk of masonry brought to Trent's mind what Sarojini Nanjee had +said.... + +They passed the temple. A narrow foot-path took them to the Great +Magician's Gate. As on the preceding night, there was no guard. When +Trent's pony was brought to a halt, the Tibetan made a gesture which +Trent interpreted to mean that he should stay there and slunk away along +the path to the temple. Trent glanced at his watch as the man left. + +To the north, in the maze of houses that lay flat and huddled beneath +the sovereign structure of Lhakang-gompa, a dog was howling. Another +answered it; another took it up; and the melancholy baying wavered from +roof to roof--a tuneless dirge. Irrelevantly, Trent thought of a +vermilion-lacquered sedan-chair that by this time should be at the +ruined gateway. It was a sheer, breathless moment, a moment detached and +charged with exquisite suspense. + +The rattle of harness-chains drew him back to earth. His eyes swerved to +the path from the temple. After a moment, shadows took shape in the +moonlight--mounts and riders. He wheeled his pony and rode to meet the +caravan. + +Sarojini Nanjee sat erect upon a horse at the head of a string of mules; +the scent of sandalwood awakened in him a queer alertness. She always +breathed of earth-perfume--an odor of the senses. Beyond her were the +looming shapes of three men--muleteers. Trent saw the contours of sacks +on the pack-animals. + +"Your men have left the city?" was her first question. Her breath came +quickly and the black opals had been kindled in her eyes. + +He answered with a nod. + +She insinuated her hand into his; pressed his fingers. + +"We win!" she whispered. "You and I!" + +He smiled to himself, grimly. What Hsien Sgam had said was fresh in his +ears. One of her men passed and opened the gate. Outside, on the +embankment, she turned her mount, waiting at one side while the caravan +moved out. Trent reined in his pony beside her. + +"Look!" she commanded, pointing through the gate at the magnificent mass +of Lhakang-gompa, above whose broken roofs the moon was poised. +"Shingtse-lunpo--Lhakang-gompa--all! I hold them, like this!" And she +made a gesture and laughed--that old familiar laugh that rippled low in +her throat. "All is not finished! Nay! I promised you vengeance--and +to-night, in a few minutes, you shall know that I keep my promises!" + +Then she struck her horse in the flanks and dashed down the slope, to +the head of the caravan. Trent followed. Behind, the gate closed softly +and hoofs thudded in the mud of the road. + +"_To-night ... you shall know that I keep my promises!_" + +That rang in Trent's brain; rang and echoed and reeled away, and left +him to grope for the meaning. + +They rode on. Several times Sarojini Nanjee glanced over her shoulder. +The ruins above the tunnel were reached, passed. Ahead the road swerved +and lost itself in high rushes--rushes that swayed and sighed and +shivered. Trent's hand hovered close to his revolver. The flesh over his +spine crawled uncomfortably as they approached the end of the +marsh-belt. He strained his eyes, but saw only the fringed line of tall +reeds against the sky.... And now the white columns of the ruined +gateway loomed, broken sentinels guarding the half-buried remains of an +ancient fortification. + +They were within a few yards of the gateway when, ahead, a horse +whinnied. + +Trent's heart leaped into his throat, and Sarojini Nanjee swiftly reined +in her horse. Something gleamed in her hand. + +From behind the shattered walls appeared a horseman--a robed horseman, +phantom-like in the moonlight. Behind him rode another--another. They +were fairly vomited through the gateway. Trent recognized Kerth at the +head, Kee Meng and Hsaio behind. + +The thing in Sarojini's hand coughed, and the red glare of discharged +powder momentarily stained the darkness. But none of the three horsemen +faltered. Before she could fire again Trent gripped her mount's bridle +and dug his heels into his own pony. They plunged forward, side by side. +He was almost dragged from the saddle, but he managed to remain +seated--to cling to the bridle of Sarojini's horse. When they were +outside the broken gate he jerked both animals to a standstill. Melted +fire-opals blazed in the woman's eyes. But he had her revolver. + +"You fool!" + +Vitriol was in her voice--but he heard her only in a detached way, for +he saw, swimming in the moonlight behind the wall, a sedan-chair, and in +it the pale oval of a face. It was in the midst of mules and packs and +several mounted men. Hsien Sgam was there, in the saddle, between two +muleteers. Kerth, Kee Meng and Hsiao had drawn rein in the gateway, thus +separating Sarojini Nanjee from her caravan. + +This, a quick negative, snapped and printed upon Trent's brain. + +From him the woman's eyes moved around the group--past Kerth, past the +muleteers and the sedan-chair--to Hsien Sgam. + +"You did this!" Her words stung with venom, and her eyes traveled back +swiftly to Trent. "Perhaps he fooled you into betraying me--_but ask him +why he wanted you to believe Chavigny alive and see, then, if you want +him as your ally_!" + +A moment of tenseness followed--a moment that seemed to lengthen into a +dead interval of time. The very world ached with dumbness, ached and +waited. Hsien Sgam, who sat stooped upon his pony, was the first to +speak. + +"Major Trent, you wish to know who murdered your friend. Sarojini Nanjee +did it. But not with her own hand...." His words were like smooth +pellets emerging from vats of molten metal. "I loved her," the Mongol +declared; "loved her ... and I went to Gaya, to your house, when I +learned of her interest in you.... And there I made a fatal mistake--" + +His words were buried as a muffled detonation ruptured the quiet. An +abrupt shock quivered the ground. Eyes swerved to the source of sound. +For an infinitesimal moment the very universe seemed to hang in dreadful +suspense; then came two violent throbs, like the blows of a seismic +hammer. A terrific roar was born out of the womb of inter-stellar +silence--a roar that smote the eardrums of those who heard, that pressed +ponderously against the heart and whipped the blood into throat and +nostrils and eyes. + +From the towering mass of Lhakang-gompa rose a quick glare that stabbed +up, sank, and with it the roofs and walls of the monastery.... Smoke +belched upon the sky. The earth shook. The very stars seemed dim with +dread, and a wraith of nebulous black veiled the face of the moon. It +was as though the gigantic machinery of a planet had been suddenly +crippled. + +The hush that followed seemed to pluck from Trent's lungs the power to +breathe. He thought the ground still heaved, that the rumbling was still +pouring about his ears.... He was a pigmy in the midst of some cosmic +disorder.... His pony snorted and trembled violently. For a space of +seconds no one spoke; no one dared. All looked toward the cloud that was +settling, doom-black, over what had been Lhakang-gompa, over the seamed +and broken heart of Shingtse-lunpo!... And then came a soft, repressed +voice--a herald of earth recalling them to its dominion after some awful +furlough. + +"Sarojini Nanjee is very clever. I should have known better than to +oppose a woman." + +A rattling laugh broke from Hsien Sgam, a laugh that was punctuated by a +crash. Trent, turning, saw a rapier of corrosive flame leap from the +Mongol's hand; saw it reflect hideously upon the features of Sarojini +Nanjee. He sought to catch her, but she slipped from the saddle.... Her +face stared up at him from a pool of black hair. + +Again the rattling laugh--as the muleteers lunged at Hsien Sgam; again +the crash and the rapier of corrosive flame, a broken rapier, that sank +its hot shaft into the Mongol's own breast.... He hung limp between the +muleteers, and a shining thing dropped from his hand to the ground. But +his eyes were open. Trent saw them; Kerth, who had dismounted, saw them. + +"I regret that I killed your friend, Major Trent"--the Mongol spoke in a +stricken voice--"I regret, too, that I was forced to close the lips of a +native who appeared at an inopportune time. It is unpardonable, major, +that I stabbed this Captain Manlove--instead--of you." + +Then he swayed; fell forward upon the neck of his mount. He was still +alive when Trent reached him, but the Buddha-like face seemed shrunken +and the oblique eyes, revealed by the searching brilliance of the +moonlight, were half closed with pain. He smiled in a twisted, grotesque +manner. + +"Mysteries are exquisite things, major," he whispered. "Consider how +delightful it--it will be, in years to come, to--to wonder whether +Chavigny ... ah, _Shinje_!... whether he was killed in Delhi, as +Sarojini claims, or died in--in Lhakang-gompa; and to wonder if she +really meant to--to murder you, or if I--I lied--" He laughed softly. +"You have heard of the scorpion, major, who, surrounded, stings himself +to death...." + +They had to lift him from the pony, and Trent, looking down upon the +huddled body, knew it did not belong to the boy who went forth from +Mongolia with the dream of a messiah shining in his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +GYANGTSE + + +Late afternoon of the seventeenth day, and ahead, against the brazen +furnace of the sunset, the battlements of Gyangtse. Trent straightened +up in his saddle as he saw the town rise above the ochre hills. +Gyangtse! From there the Chumbi Valley, the passes of Sikkhim, and down +into tropical India! But Gyangtse meant more than that to him.... Like +the frail filament of a dream was the memory of the journey from +Shingtse-lunpo--dust and bitter winds; smoke of campfires in the +nostrils; and in his heart a cavernous doubt. It was this doubt that fed +upon his nerve-tissues, not the travel. And Gyangtse meant that it would +end. He would be lifted to lofty spheres, or.... + +Now, as the town unfolded in the sunset, he looked at Dana Charteris, +who rode near him--rode in silence, staring ahead. (Thus she had ridden +for those seventeen days--in silence and staring ahead, a wintry +coolness freezing the warmth from her eyes.) Tears trembled upon her +lashes. + +The road took them under a bastion and toward the gate. When they were +yet some distance away a uniformed figure, mounted and followed by +turbaned Gurkhas, clattered out to meet them. + +"Cavendish! The District Agent!" + +Kerth, who was riding ahead with the muleteers and the grain-sacks, +called back these words to Trent and the girl. + +The uniformed figure had drawn up--a tanned young man, with the mark of +a helmet-strap running across each cheek and a lonely hungering in his +eyes. He was laughing and shaking hands with Trent; then he touched his +helmet as he saw Dana Charteris. + +They were guided into a compound where marigolds kindled a warmth +against white walls. Servants with weathered, smiling faces appeared +from the house, sticking out their tongues in greeting. + +But Trent found a poignant sharpness in this welcome, for the +winter-light in the eyes of Dana Charteris had chilled him to the soul. + + +2 + +A bath in a collapsible canvas tub; clean clothing; dinner in a +high-ceilinged, cool room; and, afterward, Trent, Kerth and the young +Agent talking, over cigars. + +Dana Charteris had slipped away soon after the meal, and the room seemed +barren to Trent. He scarcely heard his two companions, and sat nervously +fingering the arm of the chair and blowing smoke into the air. When he +could no longer endure it he begged to be excused and went to the room +assigned to him, where he got from his pack a certain object and thrust +it into his pocket. + +In the compound he encountered a Gurkha.... Yes, he had seen the +memsahib, the soldier replied; he heard her order one of the sahib's +muleteers to saddle her pony and she went toward Pal-khor Choide. + +Trent followed. + +He had passed the crimson walls of the lamasery before he saw her--a +slender shadow ahead in the dusk. He urged his pony into a canter, and +presently slackened pace beside her. She had not turned, but now the +brown eyes were directed upon him and he felt a polar coldness in the +look. For a moment his voice refused to answer his summons. + +"Dana--" he faltered. "Why did you run away, like this?" + +She smiled--not the smile he knew, that awakened a golden memory of +autumn forests and cathedral spaces. + +"I wanted to be alone. Why did you follow?" + +From his pocket he drew a glinting bracelet. In the dusk she saw the +cobra-head lifted in bizarre relief. It seemed to strike into her heart. + +"To give you this;"--his voice was low, trembling--"to tell you that I +cannot be your--your bracelet-brother longer." He seemed to drink +courage from those first words and plunged ahead. "Back there in Burma, +at the jungle camp, I promised myself that until we reached civilization +I'd remain the--the brother; and now...." He extended the bracelet. +"Won't you accept it?" + +The winter-light faded suddenly from her eyes; they shone with a new +illumination. With its coming, the chill in his heart thawed; the early +night was aromatic and healing. (Overhead a few stars were caught in the +gauzy dusk, like dewdrops in a web.) Her fingers closed about the +bracelet. + +"I've been so foolish!" she whispered, in a choked voice. "Oh, so +childish and small--while you've been big and fine and strong. Arnold +Trent, forgive me! I thought because--because you didn't speak; because +you didn't tell me of what I saw in your eyes--back there in +Burma--that, like _Sentimental Tommy_, the glamour tarnished when you +touch it--that you were just--play-acting--and, because the adventure +was over, you--you...." She swallowed, then finished: "Oh, I've been +such a foolish _Grizel_!" + +... When they rode back into Gyangtse the distant, purple-black spurs of +the Himalayas were swimming in the pallid luster poured from a flagon +moon. + + +3 + +Serpents of tobacco smoke writhed in the room where Euan Kerth and the +young District Agent had been talking since dinner; spiraled about the +two tanned faces and dissolved, as if by magic, leaving a thin grayish +haze. + +"... If anyone else had told me that, Euan Kerth," said the young +officer, breaking a long silence, "I wouldn't believe it!... And they're +in those sacks! No wonder you wanted a dozen Gurkhas to guard 'em! Gad! +Of course I'll lend you an escort! Why, if it were learned that we had +'em, here in this house, we'd be murdered before midnight! But go on, +man, finish your story." + +Kerth resumed. The golden roofs of Lhakang-gompa lived in his words; +Shingtse-lunpo, with its maze of whitewashed houses. Another long +silence followed when he finished. The serpents of smoke still crawled +and lolled in the air. Cavendish spoke. + +"Kerth, I wonder--" He broke off; the lonely hungering in his eyes was +clouded by an expression of bewilderment. He cleared his throat; +laughed. "Of course, it can't be so, but.... Well, about six months ago +an old lama was sick in the Jong. They brought him to me, on a litter, +just before he died--at his request. He told me something queer. He said +that Lhassa was no longer the political center of Tibet, and that the +man in the Potala was not the Dalai Lama, but a priest posing +as the Dalai Lama. He said the real Dalai Lama was in another +monastery--somewhere toward Mongolia--that there...." Again he broke +off; laughed. "But of course there can't be anything to it." + +And Euan Kerth, his face dimmed by the smoke from his cheroot, smiled +his satanic smile. + +"No, of course," he repeated, "there can't be anything to it." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Caravans By Night, by Harry Hervey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CARAVANS BY NIGHT *** + +***** This file should be named 34813.txt or 34813.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/1/34813/ + +Produced by Darleen Dove, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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