The thing began in India. Rodman had gone there to consult with
the Marchese Giovanni concerning some molecular theory that was
involved in his formulas. Giovanni was digging up a buried
temple on the northern border of the Punjab. One night, in the
explorer's tent, near the excavations, this inscrutable creature
walked in on Rodman. No one knew how he got into the tent or
where he came from.

Giovanni told about it. The tent-flap simply opened, and the big
Oriental appeared. He had something under his arm rolled up in a
prayer-carpet. He gave no attention to Giovanni, but he salaamed
like a coolie to the little American.

"Master," he said, "you were hard to find. I have looked over
the world for you."

And he squatted down on the dirty floor by Rodman's camp stool.

Now, that's precisely the truth. I suppose any ordinary person
would have started no end of fuss. But not Rodman, and not, I
think, Giovanni. There's the attitude that we can't understand
in a genius - did you ever know a man with an inventive mind who
doubted a miracle? A thing like that did not seem unreasonable
to Rodman.

The two men spent the remainder of the night looking at the
present that the creature brought Rodman in his prayer-carpet.
They wanted to know where the Oriental got it, and that's how his
story came out.