oldierly tread
and a jaunty swing of his yellow robe. Then taking him aside he began
to talk to him in a cautious undertone:

"I am sorry to tell you I have no _kubber_ yet. If I had some female
acquaintance it would so as easy as 'kiss my hand,' but I cannot break
my vow or spake to a woman."

"So you have no clue?"

"There's dozens of clues, if I could get hold of one; that's what
aggravates me and has me tormented. But I'll worry it out yet, and
that's as sure as me name is Mick Ryan."

"I thought it was Mung Baw."

"So 'tis mostly--and officially, but this business I'm on is a white
man's job, and if it's to be done, I'll do it." As he spoke he removed
his clumsy horn spectacles, and Shafto realised that the eyes gazing
unflinchingly into his own were those of an enthusiast, and possibly a
hero.

Seen in tell-tale daylight, and without his disfiguring glasses, the
_pongye_ looked years younger; hitherto Shafto's impression had been
that his strange acquaintance was a man of fifty. Five-and-thirty
would be nearer the mark. His eyes were a shade of deep indigo blue,
with thick black lashes, high cheek bones were possibly a legacy from
his Cingalese grandmother; a square, well-shaped head, firmly set upon
a fine pair of shoulders, a square chin and jaw, and a well-cut mouth
with shining white teeth, were his inheritance from the West.
Undoubtedly if Mung Baw's religion had not compelled him to sacrifice
every hair on his body--including his eyebrows--he would have been an
uncommonly good-looking fellow, but an absolutely bare face and bald
cranium was a heavy handicap--were he Apollo himself!

At least thrice a week Shafto, in the character of a private inquiry
officer, rode slowly round by the Kyoung and had a word or two with the
tall upstanding priest.

One evening the latter beckoned to Shafto to dismount, and, leading him
apart, assured him that he was creeping on at last. "As soon as I know
what I think I know, I'll send you a bit of a _chit_. It's an awful
traffic, this infernal trade, now I've seen into it, cheek by jowl;
these drugs is worse and crueller than wild animals, and we can't kill
them."

"No, worse luck!" assented Shafto; "they kill us. I say, Mung Baw,
don't your friends in the monastery wonder why I so often ride round
this way and look you up?"

"Oh, yes, some does be as curious as a cat in a strange larder, but I
have it all explained to their satisfaction." Then, droppin