the glory of gold and the thousand facets of the priceless gems.  Ram Lal looked toward me, and as I gazed into his eyes I saw that they too were gray—­a very singular thing in the East—­and that they were very far apart, giving his face a look of great dignity and fearless frankness.  To judge by his features he seemed to be very thin, and his high shoulders were angular, though the long loose garment concealed the rest of his frame from view.  I had plenty of time to note these details, for he stood a full minute in the middle of the room, as if deciding whether to remain or to go.  Then he moved quietly to a divan and sat down cross-legged.

“Abdul, you have done a good deed to-day, and I trust you will not change your mind before you have carried out your present intentions.”

“I never change my mind, Bam Lai,” said Isaacs, smiling as he quoted his visitor’s own words.  I was startled at first.  What good deed was the Buddhist referring to if not to the intended liberation of Shere Ali?  How could he know of it?  Then I reflected that this man was, according to Isaacs’ declaration, an adept of the higher grades, a seer and a knower of men’s hearts.  I resolved not to be astonished at anything that occurred, only marvelling that it should have pleased this extraordinary man to make his entrance like an ordinary mortal, instead of through the floor or the ceiling.

“Pardon me,” answered Ram Lal, “if I venture to contradict you.  You do change your mind sometimes.  Who was it who lately scoffed at women, their immortality, their virtue, and their intellect?  Will you tell me now, friend Abdul, that you have not changed your mind?  Do you think of anything, sleeping or waking, but the one woman for whom you have changed your mind?  Is not her picture ever before you, and the breath of her beauty upon your soul?  Have you not met her in the spirit as well as in the flesh?  Surely we shall hear no more of your doubts about women for some time to come.  I congratulate you, as far as that goes, on your conversion.  You have made a step towards a higher understanding of the world you live in.”

Isaacs did not seem in the least surprised at his visitor’s intimate acquaintance with his affairs.  He bowed his head in silence, acquiescing to what Bam Lai had said, and waited for him to proceed.

“I have come,” continued the Buddhist, “to give you some good advice—­the best I have for you.  You will probably not take it, for you are the most self-reliant man I know, though you have changed a little since you have been in love, witness your sudden intimacy with Mr. Griggs.”  He looked at me, and there was a faint approach to a smile in his gray eyes.  “My advice to you is, do not let this projected tiger-hunt take place if you can prevent it.  No good can come of it, and harm may.  Now I have spoken because my mind would not be at rest if I did not warn you.  Of course you will do as you please, only never forget that I pointed out to you the right course in time.”