Ranjab was smiling, and when he smiled his dark face was a joy to behold. His white teeth gleamed and his sometime unfeeling eyes sparkled with delight. He liked the two old men. They had stood, with Brood, between him and grave peril far back in the old days when even the faintest gleam of hope apparently had been blotted out. “Behold!” he cried, magnificently spreading his arms. “I am made glorious! See before you the prince of magic! See!” With a swift, deft movement he snatched the half-smoked cigar from the limp fingers of Mr Riggs and, first holding it before their blinking eyes, tossed it into the air. It disappeared! “Well, of all the----” began Mr Riggs, sitting up very straight. His eyes were following the rapid actions of the Hindu. Unlocking a drawer in the big table, the latter peered into it and then beckoned the old men to his side. There lay the cigar and beside it a much-needed match. “I don't want to smoke it,” said Mr Riggs, vigorously declining his property. “The darned thing's bewitched.” Whereupon Ranjab took it out of the drawer and again threw it into the air. Then he calmly reached above his head and plucked a fresh cigar out of space, obsequiously tendering it to the amazed old man, who accepted it with a sheepish grin. “You haven't lost any of your old skill,” said Mr Dawes, involuntarily glancing at his own cigar to make sure that he had it firmly gripped in his stubby fingers. “You ought to be in a sideshow, Ranjab.” Ranjab paused, before responding, to extract a couple of billiard balls and a small paper-knife from the lapel of Dawes's coat. “I am to perform to-night, _sahib_, for the mistress's guests. It is to be--what you call him? A side-show? Ranjab is to do his tricks for her, as the dog performs for his master.” The smile had disappeared. His face was an impenetrable mask once more. Had their eyes been young and keen, however, they might have caught the flash of anger in his. “Going to do all the old tricks?” cried Mr Riggs eagerly. “By George, I'd like to see 'em again; wouldn't you, Dan? I'm glad we've got our good clothes on. Now you see what comes of always being prepared for----” “Sorry, _sahib_, but the master has request me to entertain you before the guests come up. Coffee is to be served here.” “That means we'll have to clear out?” said Riggs slowly. “But see!” cried Ranjab, genuinely sorry for them. He became enthusiastic once more. “See! I shall do them all--and better, too, for you.” For ten minutes he astonished the old men with the mysterious feats of the Indian fakir. They waxed enthusiastic. He grinned over the pleasure he was giving them. Suddenly he whipped out a short, thin sword from its scabbard in his sash. The amazing, incomprehensible sword-swallowing act followed. “You see, Ranjab has not forgot,” he cried in triumph. “He have not lost the touch of the wizard, _aih_.” “You'll lose your gizzard some day, doing that,” said Dawes grimly. “It gives me the shivers.”