s necessities and its value. My outer nature shares in
it. Ah, you know not. You think of me only on one side of being. But,
like you, I have my sympathies with many things."

Mr. Early made no reply, but sank deeper into his chair. The two sat
long in silence. Sebastian looked at the fire and began to build up a
picture of Madeline's face. The Hindu was apparently lost to the
surrounding world, and yet he occasionally darted a glance of swift,
animal-like inquiry at his host.

"Neither do I like the young man Percival," he said placidly, and Mr.
Early started.

"It is your next neighbor, Percival, is it not, who annoys?" the Swami
inquired equably. "The youth who sneers when first I speak at your
house? In India, now, one may do many things that are here impossible.
Ah, but yes, you say, here you may do many things that are in India
impossible. So goes it. Still more. The same forces exist everywhere;
but we in India, we understand the forces that you, brilliant workers
with the superficial, you do not understand. I shall be glad to help
the benevolent Early, if at any time my services are of value. I know to
do many things besides to meditate."

Mr. Early stared in amazement at the unmoved face before him, a face
almost as round and mystifying as the syllable "Om", on which its
thoughts were supposed to be centered.

"And, remember, I, too, dislike the young man Percival," pursued the
Swami blandly.

Mr. Early's mind suddenly stiffened with horror.

"See here," he exclaimed, sitting up, "you understand Mr. Percival is no
enemy of mine. He is, in fact, a friend. You mustn't think you'd be
doing me a kindness by--ah--injuring him in any way."

"My understanding," said the Swami, still unmoved. "Fear no midnight
assassination, noble friend. That is petty--and dangerous. I am not
oblivious of the conventionalities. But the mind may be reached, as well
as the body. Percival may do as I--you--we--wish. The higher animal at
all times controls the lower. Perhaps, at some time, I may serve you.
But you weary. The body makes demands. I bid you good night."

He put out a great paw, and Mr. Early grasped it weakly, feeling that he
was in the position of one who has started an oil "gusher" and can not
control its flow. He might have to light it to get rid of it.

To his own room went Ram Juna, occasionally nodding his head in his
serene manner. He carefully locked behind him the door which connected
his wing with the r