"His Excellency the Governor of Shingtse-lunpo has arrived."
"Tell him I shall be with him when I have finished my reflections."
The cardinal bowed and took his leave. The curtains of the palanquin blotted out his corpulent person. Again the patter of naked feet sounded above the surreptitious whispering of the Bo-tree.
A cryptic smile slid across the Grand Lama's eyes; the lids dropped to hide it. He resumed the prayer.
Thus he sat--just as Gaudama sat on the same spot in a buried century. However, the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was not contemplating his Dewa Laka.
Above him the plinth of the temple strove skyward, secure in the knowledge of the riddle of Life and Death.
A half hour after Trent took the receiver from the telephone, Colonel Urqhart and Merriton, Head of the Police, rattled into his compound in a dog-cart. Accompanying them were several officers to whom Trent spoke by name.
"... And you found him in the ruined temple!" exclaimed the colonel, in the living-room, when the customary formalities had been observed. "Good God, major, what a pity! The poor, poor boy! His father and I were friends, y' know."
"I'm positive Chatterjee did it," declared Trent. "You see...." And he told of the encounter on the road and the subsequent events.
"What were you saying, major?" asked the Head of the Police, coming out of the bedroom just as he finished. "But first--what's this?"
He held out the oval of silver-overlaid coral, and Trent explained how he had found it.
"Some sort of native charm, I dare say," observed Merriton. "Tell me about this Chatterjee."
When Trent had retold his story, the Head of the Police enquired:
It was nearly midnight when Colonel Urqhart and Merriton prepared to leave.
"Major," said Trent's commanding officer, "you'd better get some sleep. Eckard and Gerrish will remain to--"
"You'll need it if you're going in the morning--and you _are_ going? Orders, y' know. There's nothing you can do here. I'll personally attend to everything."
"Of course I'll go." This from Trent as he passed his hand wearily over his forehead. "However, I shall sit up to-night. Eckard and Gerrish can remain--but I'd rather be alone."
The colonel cast a glance toward Manlove's room.
"Poor chap!" he sighed. He extended his hand. "Well, good luck, major. I probably won't see you again before you leave."