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Rh waist-shawl, opened the door, and motioned Thorneycroft to enter.

The gate clicked behind them.

"Good!" he said again, stopped, and faced the other squarely. "You have wondered," he went on, "as to the why and wherefore—you, to whom the voice of the miracle came in the night?"

"Yes," replied Thorneycroft in low accents, his heart beating like a trip-hammer. "I have wondered indeed. I knew the thing—was done. I heard the whirring of wings. I knew the raja died—"

"But did he die, brother Brahman?" The swami looked at the Englishman, deep, brooding melancholia in his gray eyes. "Ahi! Did he die?" And he made a hopeless gesture and led on again through empty suites of rooms supported by double rows of pillars, past balconies which clung like birds nests to the sheer side of the palace, again through more rooms and up and down steep steps. Once in a while they encountered liveried, turbaned officials. But always the latter would salaam deeply and step aside.

Finally the swami stopped in front of a door which was a great slab of tulip-wood inlaid with