and climbed into his own stall, growling in his beard.

But it was Kim who had wakened the lama - Kim with one eye laid
against a knot-hole in the planking, who had seen the Delhi man's
search through the boxes. This was no common thief that turned
over letters, bills, and saddles - no mere burglar who ran a
little knife sideways into the soles of Mahbub's slippers, or
picked the seams of the saddle-bags so deftly. At first Kim had
been minded to give the alarm - the long-drawn
choor - choor!
[thief! thief!] that sets the serai ablaze of nights; but he
looked more carefully, and, hand on amulet, drew his own
conclusions.

'It must be the pedigree of that made-up horse-lie,' said he,
'the thing that I carry to Umballa. Better that we go now. Those
who search bags with knives may presently search bellies with
knives. Surely there is a woman behind this. Hai! Hai! in a
whisper to the light-sleeping old man. 'Come. It is time - time
to go to Benares.'

The lama rose obediently, and they passed out of the serai like
shadows.





Chapter 2