minds whether to resent or applaud
the trick that King had played on them with Yasmini's obvious
collaboration, King was well under way with a speech that held them
spellbound. It would have held any audience spellbound by its sheer,
stark manliness. It was straighter from the shoulder than Yasmini's
eloquence, and left absolutely nothing to imagination. Blunt, honest
downrightness, that was the key of it, and it took away the breath of
all those women used to the devious necessities of purdah politics.

"My friend and I refuse," he said, and paused to let them understand
that thoroughly. "We refuse to accept your money."

Yasmini, who prided herself on her instantly ready wit, was too
astonished to retort or to try to stop him. It was clear at a glance
that she and King had had some sort of conference while the Mahatma and
I were locked up together, and she had evidently expected King to fall
in line and accept the trust imposed on him. Even now she seemed to
think that he might be coming at concession in his own way, for her face
had a look of expectancy. But King had nothing in his bag of surprises
except disillusion.

"You see," he went on, "we can no longer be compelled. We might be
killed, but that would bring prompt punishment. Maharajah Jihanbihar has
already started inquiries about us, by telegraph, which, as you know,
goes swiftly. We or else our slayers will have to be produced alive
presently. So we refuse to accept orders or money from any one. But as
for the Mahatma--we accord him our protection. There is only one power
we recognize as able to impose death penalties. We repudiate all
usurpation of that power. If the Mahatma thinks it will be safer in the
United States, my friend and I will see that he gets there, at our
expense.

"It was in my mind," he went on, "to drive a hard bargain with the
Mahatma. I was going to offer him protection in return for knowledge.
But it is not fair to drive bargains with a man so closely beset as he
is. Therefore I offer him protection without terms."

With that he tossed the black _sari_ aside and strode down the narrow
carpet to where the Mahatma sat beside me, giving Yasmini a mere nod of
courtesy as he turned his back on her. And until King reached us, the
Mahatma squatted there beckoning one crooked forefinger, like a man
trying to coax a snake out of its hole. King stood there smiling and
looked down into his eyes, which suddenly lost their look of staring
int