pushed open the door and entered. The worshippers assembled outside were aghast but none ventured to stop him. When the Brahmins recognised their sovereign, they made no attempt to obstruct the way. Never before had he done such a thing, and his sudden appearance in their midst caused consternation.
He pressed forward through the crowd to the sacrificial spot; and there, sure enough, lay something beneath a blood-stained cloth.
He was not altogether free from superstition himself, and to raise the cloth with his own hand was more than he with all his courage cared to do. He ordered some men standing near to lift the sheet. They glanced at their chief, awaiting a sign of his consent. The pujari made a few passes before the Rajah and signed to the men to withdraw the cloth.
Slowly it was raised, and the dead body of a sheep met the Rajah's gaze.
The eyes of the chief Brahmin never left the face of his prince, and a light of fanatical triumph shone in them as the Rajah turned away. He passed out of the temple in silence and without comment from the assembly. He was unaccustomed to give reasons for his actions and they were used to the ways of an Oriental despot. The door closed behind him as he left the stifling atmosphere of the temple, and the mysterious ceremonies of the Ayeetha were continued.
Whether he saw a sheep or a human body it was impossible to say. There was no reason to doubt his word. He and his English friends were inclined to believe in the sheep. His people thought differently. They said that the pujari had exercised divine power acquired by his severe preparation, and that he had changed the youth into a sheep on the entrance of the Rajah.
