Lodge,' said Father Victor; 'but we might as well tell the old man what we are going to do. He doesn't look like a villain.'
'My experience is that one can never fathom the Oriental mind. Now Kimball, I wish you to tell this man what I say—word for word.'
Kim gathered the import of the next few sentences and began thus:
'Holy One, the thin fool who looks like a camel says that I am the son of a Sahib.'
'But how?'
'Oh, it is true. I knew it since my birth, but he could only find it out by rending the amulet from my neck and reading all the papers. He thinks that once a Sahib is always a Sahib, and between the two of them they purpose to keep me in this regiment or send me to a madrissah (a school). I have always avoided that. The fat fool is of one mind and the camel-like one of another. But that is no odds. I may spend one night here and perhaps the next. Then I will run away and return to thee.'
'But tell them that thou art my chela. Tell them how thou didst come to me when I was faint and bewildered. Tell them of our Search, and they will surely let thee go now.'
'I have already told them. They laugh, and they talk of the police.'
'What are you saying?' asked Mr. Bennett.
'Oah. He only says that if you do not let me go it will stop him in his business—his ur-gent private af-fairs.' This last was a reminiscence of some talk with a Eurasian clerk in the Canal department, but it only produced a smile, which nettled him. 'And if you did know what his business was you would not be in such a beastly hurry to interfere.'
