' Old Andrew never
quits his study, and all we have to do is to watch Miss Janet
Fairbarn. Jules Victor can guard against a surprise by her."
"It is an ingenious plan, but, a dangerous one," mused Anstruther.
"Not so," boldly replied Murray. "Remember that old Fraser is
crazy on his bookwork. Hobbs is his only male visitor. He has not
a relative, a friend--no one to watch on the outside while we hold
the old chap at bay. Miss Janet watches in the house." Anstruther
had been carefully studying the two men's faces. "'Prince Djiddin'
will be all right, with a little makeup, using walnut juice and a
proper costume. His Indian brown is quite the thing. But you, my
boy, must be an Eurasian, the son of a high English official and
a native woman of rank. You were carried away to Thibet by your
beautiful Cashmere mother when she was abandoned. The usual sad
story will go. She, driven out by her family, refuges finally in
Hlassa, and your English was, of course, learned before the death
of your father, when you were eighteen. Your usefulness as interpreter
caused you to attach yourself to 'Prince Djiddin's' noble family.
"Yes," said Hardwicke. "A couple of days spent in the British Museum,
and with your fertile imagination, Eric, you will be enabled to
describe the mysterious, lonely city on the Dzangstu, and even the
gilded temples of Mount Botala. You can easily book up all about
the Dalai Lama.
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