"Your honour is pleased to be excessively gracious," said the Baboo with absurd complacency. "Indeed, my tip-top spirits have been of much service to myself and many other honourable gentlemen, and have been extraordinarily admired by English ladies." He pulled out his watch. "In the space of half an hour we shall have arrived at our long-intended destination." "So soon? Show me the plan again to refresh my memory." The Baboo produced a piece of paper, over which they bent their heads. "Here is the railway station at which we shall dismount. This pink streak is the highway-road along which we shall travel, eventually reaching the big brass gates belonging to ancestral home. A little beyond is a diminutive wall, which we ascend and descend. Then we step across the park and round the lake. Here and here. This sepia mark is water. Now we are in the pleasure garden. This is the hinder part of the house. Here is the right wing. The fifth window in the second row. That is your bull's eye." "Go on," said his companion, gloomily. "Your honour will divest yourself of polished hat and other garments, which you will transfer to my care in summer house. Here, behold it, painted in vermilion. You will climb up to the window. Inferior but friendly servant has arranged that it shall open easily. Once in the room the deed is as good as accomplished. You know the hiding-place of the jewel." Travers started. "The hiding-place of the jewel!" "Yes," said the gloomy Hindoo; "I know it. But Krishna Bürkut knew it twenty-five years ago, and the Swâmi Râm Nâth knew it fifty years ago, and yet another Swâmi seventy-five years ago, but none of these restored it to the Temple of Agni. All failed in their quest, and never regained their caste. I too shall fail." "Allow me to have the felicity of indicating at least one point of difference between your honour and gentlemen mentioned," replied the Baboo. "Your honour has intelligent assistant, while enumerated catalogue had not. Have the kindness to point out fly in our ointment. It is distinguished by its absence. The jewel is yours." "Perish the jewel!" cried the other Hindoo in a sudden outburst of fury. "Why couldn't the _Huzoor_ have left it alone, or have taken another jewel? Why should he have singled out the one above all others necessary to the happiness of Agni? And why should I, of all the priests of the Temple, be chosen to restore the sacred stone? Here, with five thousand miles of space between us, I declare to you, Ramma Lal, I do not fear the wrath of Agni. I call him humbug. I read Shakespeare. I write him an ass. I am doubtful even of Vishnu and Siva."