“Which should not have been asked,” I replied. “The fault is his. He is over sensitive. In a moment he will have forgotten—say no more.”
“Not upon that subject since you wish it; but I must speak with you upon another while opportunity offers. That little hand bag of mine—you recollect. Have you it with you here at Angkor?”
“Unfortunately no;” I took it in charge that night, but it was left behind us at Panompin. Of course I never dreamed—?”
“Of meeting me—certainly not. Why should you? I was engaged in a peculiar mission at Panompin and was particularly anxious not to—that is to say not to leave hurriedly. But tell me—and you must think me very rude for not inquiring sooner—how did you manage to escape?”
“Now it is you who are asking questions. If I answer, I must take the liberty of asserting my Yankee prerogative of asking you the same question in return.”
He smiled strangely—you can scarcely fancy what a singular sensation it is to see a man smile only with his eyes.
“I am dumb,” he said, “but one question I must ask—were you harmed?”
“Not in the least.”
“Good! I am thankful for it. I have many times thought of you—but to return to the bag.”
“It’s at your disposal,” I interposed. “If you are going to Panompin—”
“But I am not. It is doubtful if I ever visit the place again. When you return will you oblige me by addressing a label to Mr. Radma Gungeet, at Benares, and forwarding the bag by express?”
“Certainly. It shall be done if you wish it.”
“One question more. Do not be offended. Did you open the bag, thinking you would never see me again?”
“The bag has remained precisely as you left it, sir,” I replied with dignity.
He gave a slight sigh of relief and turned away just in time to meet Maurice coming toward us from the balustrade.
“Come, George, let’s go down,” he said abruptly. “Mr. Mirrikh, I bid you good day.”
“Stay—one moment. We part friends?”
He extended his hand which Maurice took.
“Certainly. There is no reason why we should not. I can’t help being a Yankee anymore than you a—well, whatever you are. Come and join us at dinner. We are in the last room of the north wing, and have as fine a Chinese cook as Cambodia can afford.”
“I should be most happy, but it will be quite impossible. Frankly, gentlemen, I am something of a Buddhist. My visit to the Nagkon Wat is for a religious purpose which renders it necessary for me to fast.”
“In which case we shall have to excuse you,” said Maurice lightly. “At all events promise to see us before you leave.”
“I promise that. You shall certainly see me.”
“When?”
“That is more than I can say. Hark! Do I hear someone singing? Gentlemen, I must leave you. As you may easily imagine, my peculiar deformity,” he pronounced the word with an emphasis almost sarcastic, “makes me shy of strangers. Good day.”
Yes, there was some one coming, we could hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stone stairs within the tower, and a rich baritone voice singing—not an ode to the sun god this time, though certainly something akin to it—the good old fisherman’s chorus from Auber’s pleasing, but well-nigh forgotten, opera, Masaniello.
“More visitors!” cried Mauii
“Evidently, and I am off. I cannot meet them,” said Mr. Mirrikh.
Waving his hand politely, he drew back through the doorway, disappearing in the dark shadow beyond.
“Why, the man will run right into this newcomer, whoever he is,” cried Maurice. He started to follow, but I caught his arm and drew him back.
“Don’t,” I whispered. “Whoever he is, or whatever he is, he is certainly a gentleman. Respect his wishes and let him go.”
“Bother!” said Maurice, pulling himself away. “He called me a Yankee, let me show him I’ve got my share of Yankee curiosity. Come on George, I intend to find out where he goes.”
And he stepped through the door, leaving me to follow or not, as I pleased.
I chose to follow, for I confess that my curiosity had gained the better of my politeness.
Was the strange episode at Panompin about to be repeated, and in broad daylight? Meanwhile, the singing continued, though the sound of footsteps had ceased, and we knew that the new comer must have paused on the platform below.
There were still two platforms above us. We listened, but could hear no footsteps on the stairs.
“He must have gone up,” whispered Maurice; “Yes, by gracious! there he goes now."
Even as he spoke, we caught sight of Mr. Mirrikh’s back vanishing around a turn in the winding stairs.
“Stop!” I whispered. “Maurice, at least let us be decent.”
“I won’t! If he don’t want to meet strangers, neither do we. Come on.”
He crept up the stairs, and I followed him. When we turned the corner there was nothing to be seen of Mirrikh; nor was he on the first platform when we gained it, nor yet on the second and last. Now nothing but a huge cylindrical stone remained above us—nothing save that and the sky.
“Holy smoke!” cried Maurice, dropping into American slang in his excitement. “George, the fellow ain’t here!”
“Evidently not. Now, my friend, perhaps you will be willing to believe me that I was neither drunk nor dreaming that night at Panompin. Too much samschow! Too many Manilla cheroots! All a hallucination—I believe that was the way you talked.”
“Shut up!” cried Maurice, half angrily. “This is a mighty serious matter.”
“Awake! Awake! the morn is freshly breaking!” roared the singer on the balcony below.
“Perdition seize the fellow!” snapped Maurice. “George, where in the mischief do you suppose that man Mirrikh has taken himself to? I will understand this business, I swear I will.”
“Levitated, of course,” I replied ironically. “These Buddhist adepts are wonderful fellows, you know. Why, they have the London Times at Benares every morning within ten seconds of the moment of issue. Railroads they never trouble. If they want to go to Calcutta, Paris or New York, they simply levitate—I’m growing fond of that word, it rolls so easily off the tongue. Levitated—that’s it, you may depend.”
“George,” said Maurice solemnly, “you are making light of a serious matter. From my remarks made awhile ago, you have a perfect right to consider me not only a super-religious sort of fellow, but a theosophist as well. Now, the fact is, I am neither one nor the other. I am simply a confirmed investigator. The truth is what I want, and what I am determined to have. Therefore I undertook to investigate Buddhism, and I was amazed at what I found in its much misrepresented doctrines. Nevertheless, I believe only what appeals to my reason and to my senses. Levitation does neither, and yet—well, to cut it short, where the deuce has that fellow gone to? That’s what I want to know.”
“Where did he go the night he left me at the end of the alley?” I demanded triumphantly.
“Through some secret door, I presume. There was chance enough.”
“Was there? You yourself searched and could find no such outlet, but