Dignified and unsuspicious, he strode into the little tent, saluted
the Churches as a Churchman, and sat down by the open charcoal
brazier. The yellow lining of the tent reflected in the lamplight
made his face red-gold.

Bennett looked at him with the triple-ringed uninterest of the
creed that lumps nine-tenths of the world under the title of
'heathen'.

'And what was the end of the Search? What gift has the Red Bull
brought?' The lama addressed himself to Kim.

'He says, "What are you going to do?"' Bennett was staring uneasily
at Father Victor, and Kim, for his own ends, took upon himself the
office of interpreter.

'I do not see what concern this fakir has with the boy, who is
probably his dupe or his confederate,' Bennett began. 'We cannot
allow an English boy - Assuming that he is the son of a Mason, the
sooner he goes to the Masonic Orphanage the better.'

'Ah! That's your opinion as Secretary to the Regimental Lodge,'
said Father Victor; 'but we might as well tell the old man what we
are going to do. He doesn't look like a villain.'

'My experience is that one can never fathom the Oriental mind. Now,
Kimball, I wish you to tell this man what I say word for word.'

Kim gathered the import of the next few sentences and began thus: