“Yet the tooth of Buddha had been taken, the sacred tooth which is more holy to Buddhists than the statue of Gautama Buddha itself.  Their remorse was very real, and after that, to the day of his death from fever, eighteen months afterward, they could never show enough honour to Lord Chepstow.  And even then their favour continued.  They transferred to the little son the homage they had done the father, but in a far, far greater degree.  If he had been a king’s son they could have shown him no greater honour.  Native princes showered him with rich gifts; if he walked out, his path was strewn with flowers by bowing maidens; if he went into the market-place, the people prostrated themselves before him.

“When I questioned Buddhist women of this amazing homage to Cedric, they gave me a full explanation.  My son was sacred, they said.  Buddha had withdrawn his favour from his people because of the evil they had done in suspecting the father and of the innocent life—­Ferralt’s—­which had been sacrificed, and they had been commanded of the priests to do homage to the child and thereby appease the offended god, who, doubtless, had himself spirited away the holy tooth, and would not restore it until full recompense was made to the sacred son of the sacred dead.

“When it became known that I had decided to return to England with my boy, native princes offered me fabulous sums to remain, and when they found that I could not be tempted to stay, the populace turned out in every town and village through which we passed on our way to the ship, and bowing multitudes followed us to the very last.  Nor did it cease with that, for in all the years that have followed, even here in London, the homage and worship have continued.  My son can go nowhere but that he is followed by Cingalese; can see no man or woman of the race, but he or she prostrates herself before him and murmurs, ‘Holy, most holy!’ And daily, almost hourly, rich gifts are showered upon him from unknown hands, and he is watched over and guarded constantly.  I tell you all this, Mr. Cleek, that you may the better understand how appalling is the horror which now assails us, how frightful is the knowledge that someone now seeks his life, and is using every means to take it.”

“In other words, my dear Cleek,” put in Narkom, as her ladyship, overcome with emotion, broke down suddenly, “there appears to be a sudden and inexplicable change of front on the part of these fanatics, and they now seem as anxious to bring evil to his little lordship as they formerly were to protect and cherish him.  At any rate, someone of their order has, upon three separate occasions within the last month, endeavoured to kidnap him, and, in one instance, even attempted to murder him.”

“Is that a fact?” queried Cleek sharply, glancing over at Miss Lorne.  “You are certain it is not a fancy, but an absolute fact?”