"Yes. A dreamer has no right to his dreams, be they ever so beautiful, unless he changes them into substance. In my dreams I have loved the world and my fellow-creatures. But what does that avail me if I do nothing for the suffering and sorrow with which the world is filled? I must go out and help. I must put my whole wealth and strength to the task, even if I lose thereby my peace. I must 'sell all that I have.' Is not that the advice your Great Teacher gave to the young man seeking to do his duty?" Travers started, and then smiled. "Is there anything you do not know or have not read, Rajah?" he said, with an amused admiration. "I have read a great deal," was the earnest answer, "but it seems to me as though I had known nothing until yesterday. Yesterday, in an hour, a new world was revealed to me." He leaned forward, extending his hand. "I ask you as a man of honor," he said, "before you show me your plans, before I definitely engage myself in this great work, tell me, do you believe that it will be for my people, what you say? Will it lift them from their misery; will it make them prosperous and happy?" Travers took the hand in his own. For a moment he studied it intently, curiously, as though it had been the sole topic of their conversation. Then his eyes met those of the Rajah with unflinching calm and decision. "As far as I can be sure of anything, it will do for your country all that I have said," he answered. And therein he was sincere--as sincere, that is, as a man can be whose retreat is already secured. With a sigh of relief Nehal Singh drew the table closer. "Show me your plans," he said. For three uninterrupted hours the two men sat over the papers which Travers had brought. Now and again he lifted his head and glanced toward the doorway through which the strange apparition had disappeared, half expecting to see once more the white extended hand, half believing that he had been the victim of a delusion, a fantasy born of the mysterious veil with which the whole palace seemed shrouded. Then he glanced at the ring which sparkled on his own finger, and he knew that it was no delusion, but that a corner of the veil lay perhaps within his grasp. CHAPTER XIII THE ROAD CLEAR