CHAPTER XX

The summer twilight was deepening into the summer dusk when Ailsa, acting upon Cleek’s advice, set forth with his little lordship the following evening, and turned her steps in the direction of the Park; but although, on her way there, she observed more than once that a swarthy-skinned man in European dress who wore a scarlet flower in his coat, and was so perfect a type of the Asiatic that he would have passed muster for one even among a gathering of Cingalese, kept appearing and disappearing at irregular intervals, it spoke well for the powers of imitation and self-effacement possessed by Dollops, that she never once thought of associating that young man with the dawdling messenger boy who strolled leisurely along with a package under his arm and patronised every bun-shop, winkle-stall, and pork-pie purveyor on the line of march.

For upward of an hour this sort of thing went on without any interruption or any solitary thing out of the ordinary, Ailsa strolling along leisurely, with the boy’s hands in hers and his innocent prattle running on ceaselessly; then, of a sudden, whilst they were moving along close to the Park railings and in the shadow of the overhanging trees, the figure of an undersized man in semi-European costume, but wearing on his head the twisted turban of a Cingalese, issued from one of the gates, and well-nigh collided with them.

He drew back, murmuring an apology in pidgin-English, then, seeing the child, he salaamed profoundly and murmured in a voice of deep reverence, “Holy, most holy!” and prostrated himself, with his forehead touching the ground, until Ailsa and the child had passed on.  But barely had they taken five steps before Cleek appeared upon the scene, and did exactly the same thing as the Cingalese.

“All right.  You may go home now.  I’ve got my man,” he whispered, as Ailsa and the boy passed by.  “Look for me at Chepstow House some time to-night.”  Then rose, as she walked on, and went after the man who first had prostrated himself before the child.

He had risen and gone on his way, but not before witnessing Cleek’s obeisance, and flashing upon him a sharp, searching look.  Cleek quickened his steps and shortened the distance between them.  Now or never was the time to put to the test that wild thought which last night had hammered on his brain, for it was certain that this man was in very truth a Cingalese, and, as such, must know!  He stretched forth his hand and touched the man, who drew back sharply, half indignantly, but changed his attitude entirely when Cleek, who knew Hindustani more than well, spoke to him in the native tongue.

“Unto thee, oh, brother!” Cleek said.  “Thou, too, art of us, for thou, too, dost acknowledge the sacred shrine.  These eyes have beheld thee.”

All his hopes rested on the slim pillar of that one word, “shrine,” and his heart almost ceased to beat as he watched to see how it was received.  It broke, however, into a very tumult of disturbance in the next instant, for the man positively beamed as he gave reply.