ween these two men, he of the devil shop, and
the Chinaman, a hate as old as rust that eats into an iron bar."

Coryndon lay back in his chair and listened without remark.

"Among many lies told unto me, that is true; and again, among many lies,
it is also true that he had not, neither did he ever possess, the gold
lacquer bowl, on the subject of which my Master bade me question him. He
knows not how Mhtoon Pah found it, but he believes that it was through a
sorcery he practised, for the man is as full of evil as the chatti
lifted from the brink of the well is full of water."

Coryndon smiled and glanced at Shiraz.

"And you think so also, grandson of a Tucktoo, for though you are old,
your white hairs bring you no wisdom."

"I am the Sahib's servant, but who knoweth the ways of devils, since
their footprints cannot be seen, neither upon the sand of the desert nor
in the snows of the great hills?"

"Did he speak of Absalom?"

"He told me, Protector of the Poor, that the boy, though of Christian
caste, was to Mhtoon Pah as the apple of his eye, and that he fed him
upon sweets from the vendor's stall. Let it be said, for thy wisdom to
unravel, that therefore Leh Shin felt mirth in his mind, knowing that
the heart of his foe was wrung as the _Dhobie_ wrings the soiled
garment."

Shiraz fell silent and looked up from the floor at the face of his
master, who got up and stretched himself.

"Is my bath ready, Shiraz?"

"All is prepared, though the _pani walla_, a worker of iniquity, steals
the wood for his own burning; therefore, the water is not hot, and ill
is done to the good name of Hartley Sahib's house."

When he was dressed he strolled into the drawing-room, and sat down at
the piano, playing softly until Hartley came in.

"Shall you be away long, do you suppose?" he asked, looking with
interest at Coryndon's smooth, black head.

"I may be, but it is impossible to tell. If I want you, I will send a
message by Shiraz."

The dinner passed off without incident, and not once did Coryndon open
the secret door of his mind, to add to the strange store of facts he had
gathered there. He wanted nothing from Atkins, who knew less of the Rev.
Francis Heath than he did himself, and he had to sustain his role of
ignorance of the country. The two men stayed late, and it seemed to
Coryndon that when men talk they do more than talk, they tell many
things unconsciously.

Perhaps, if people realized, as Coryndon realiz