Steal from a thief, for that is easy.
Set a trap for a trickster, and catch him at the first attempt.
But beware of the man who has no axe to grind.
--Eastern Proverb


It was a musty smelling entrance, so dark that to see was scarcely
possible after the hot glare outside. Dimly King made out Rewa
Gunga mounting stairs to the left and followed him. The stairs
wound backward and forward on themselves four times, growing scarcely
any lighter as they ascended, until, when he guessed himself two
stories at least above road level, there was a sudden blaze of
reflected light and he blinked at more mirrors than he could count.
They had been swung on hinges suddenly to throw the light full in
his face.

There were curtains reflected in each mirror, and little glowing
lamps, so cunningly arranged that it was not possible to guess
which were real and which were not. Rewa Gunga offered no
explanation, but stood watching with quiet amusement. He seemed
to expect King to take a chance and go forward, but if he did he
reckoned without his guest. King stood still.

Then suddenly, as if she had done it a thousand times before and
surprised a thousand people, a little nut-brown maid parted the
middle pair of curtains and said "Salaam!" smiling with teeth that
were as white as porcelain. All the other curtains parted too,
so that the whereabouts of the door might still have been in doubt
had she not spoken and so distinguished herself from her reflections.
King looked scarcely interested and not at all disturbed.