The long _caftan_ wrapped round him, the
turban which I had first thought white, the skin of his face, the
pointed beard and long moustache, the heavy eyebrows--a study of grays
against the barbaric splendour of the richly hung wall--a soft outline
on which the yellow light dwelt lovingly, as if weary of being cast back
and reflected from the glory of gold and the thousand facets of the
priceless gems. Ram Lal looked toward me, and as I gazed into his eyes I
saw that they too were gray--a very singular thing in the East--and that
they were very far apart, giving his face a look of great dignity and
fearless frankness. To judge by his features he seemed to be very thin,
and his high shoulders were angular, though the long loose garment
concealed the rest of his frame from view. I had plenty of time to note
these details, for he stood a full minute in the middle of the room, as
if deciding whether to remain or to go. Then he moved quietly to a divan
and sat down cross-legged.
"Abdul, you have done a good deed to-day, and I trust you will not
change your mind before you have carried out your present intentions."
"I never change my mind, Bam Lai," said Isaacs, smiling as he quoted his
visitor's own words. I was startled at first. What good deed was the
Buddhist referring to if not to the intended liberation of Shere Ali?
How could he know of it? Then I reflected that this man was, according
to Isaacs' declaration, an adept of the higher grades, a seer and a
knower of men's hearts.
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