est of the house. A few moments he paused listening,
then he crossed his bedroom and the narrow passage that opened on the
garden and entered the little unused room beyond. Here all was dark,
inky dark, for the heavy shutters on the street side of the room were
closed and barred and the shades on the garden front were drawn,
shutting out what dim rays the departed sun had left the night. The
Swami apparently had no need of greater light, for, neglecting the
electric button near the door, he groped quietly about, struck a match
and lighted a single candle, with which he returned to the hallway and
opened the garden door, standing for a moment with the taper flickering
in the rush of cold air that poured in from outside. When he stepped
back and closed the door, there stood beside him another man,
clean-shaven, lean, sharp-nosed and ferret-eyed, whose footstep was
almost as light as that of the Swami himself. Neither of them spoke
until they reached the smaller room and the door was locked.

"You shiver, my friend," said Ram Juna. "The night is cold."

"Freezin', an' so'm I," said the other shortly. "You keep me waiting a
devil of a time."

"Business, oh my friend, business. Can I utter a word to the ears of
your nationality more convincing? I was necessitated to converse with my
host, the rich and amiable Early. Ah, the nature of humanity is
eternally interesting."

His companion grinned.

"Which means, being interpreted, you've got some lay, I suppose. What is
it!"

"Abruptness is to me foreign," said the Swami, waving his great hand
with its combination of fat palm and taper fingers. "It disturbs me.
Perhaps, some day, I shall need tell you. The amiable Early is as are
all mankind. On the one side he gropes among infinities. Do we not all
so? On the other side he is tied by this body of clay to the groveling
earth. Are we not all so? Am not even I myself?" The Swami turned
benevolently toward the other.

"You bet! And you can sling language about it!" said the man, and he
opened his rat's mouth and laughed without noise. Even Ram Juna's face
relaxed into its Buddha smile, calm, inscrutable, as the two gazed on
each other. Suddenly the younger drew himself together.

"Well, I ain't got no time to spare," he said. "Are they ready?"

"I, as well as you Americans, can be the votary of business," answered
Ram Juna. "The first principle of business is promptitude. My friend,
they are ready."

"Well, hand 'em ove