Coryndon was not listening to him; he had gone close to the marble
rails, and was lighting his little bunch of yellow tapers. He lighted
them one by one, and put each one down on the floor very slowly and
carefully, and when he had finished he turned round.

"Mhtoon Pah is the man who has the curio shop?" he asked.

"The very same. It gives you some idea of his percentage on sales,
what?"

Coryndon joined in his laugh, and they went out again into the street of
sanctity. Fitzgibbon was now getting exhausted, for his companion's
desire to "do" the Pagoda was apparently insatiable; and he asked
interminable questions that the Barrister was totally unable to answer.

Coryndon seemed to find something fresh and interesting around every
corner. The white elephants delighted him, particularly where green
creepers had grown round their trunks, giving them a realistic effect of
enjoying a meal. The handles off very common English chests-of-drawers,
that were set along a rail enclosing a sleeping Buddha, pleased him like
a child, as did the bits of looking-glass with "Black and White Whisky,"
or "Apollinaris Water," inscribed across their faces.

"That sort of thing seems to attract them," explained Fitzgibbon. "In
one of the shrines there is a fancy biscuit-box at a Buddha's feet. It
has got 'Huntley and Palmer' on the top, and pictures of children and
swans all around it. Funny devils, I always say so."

At length he had to drag Coryndon away, almost by main force.