"What is he doing here?" he insisted.

"He? Oh, he does nothing. He waits," purred the Rangar. "He is
to be your body-servant on your journey to the North. He is nothing--
nobody at all!--except that be is to be trusted utterly because
he loves Yasmini. He is Obedience! A big obedient fool! Let him be!"

"No," said King. "If he's to be my man I'll speak to him!"

He felt himself winning. Already the spell of the room was lifting,
and he no longer felt the cloud of sandalwood smoke like a veil
across his brain.

"Won't you tell him to come here to me?"

Rewa Gunga laughed, resting his silk turban against the wall hangings
and clasping both hands about his knee. It was as a man might laugh
who has been touched in a bout with foils.

"Oh!--Ismail!" he called, with a voice like a bell, that made King stare.

The Afridi seemed to come out of a deep sleep and looked bewildered,
rubbing his eyes and feeling whether his turban was on straight.
He combed his beard with nervous fingers as he gazed about him and
caught Rewa Gunga's eye. Then be sprang to his feet.

"Come!" ordered Rewa Gunga.

The man obeyed.