This remark did not surprise me as it would have a few weeks before, for I had come to learn that Gwen was liable at any time to suddenly evince a very unfeminine depth of observation and firmness of philosophical grasp.

Maitland had been gone just six weeks to a day when we received from him the first news having any particular bearing upon the matter which had taken him abroad.  I give this communication in his own words, omitting only a few personal observations which I do not feel justified in disclosing, and which, moreover, are not necessary to the completeness of this narrative: 

My dear doctor: 

I have at last something to report bearing upon the case that brought me here, and perhaps I can best relate it by simply telling you what my movements have been since my arrival.  My first errand was to Malabar Hill.  I thought it wise to possess myself, so far as possible, of facts proving the authenticity of Mr. Darrow’s narrative.  I found without difficulty the banyan tree which had been the trysting-place, and close by it the little cave with its mysterious well,—­everything in fact precisely as related, even to the “Farsees’” garden or cemetery, with its “Tower of Silence,” or “Dakhma,” as it is called by the natives.  The cave and the banyan are among the many attractions of what is now Herr Blaschek’s villa.  This gentleman, with true German hospitality, asked me to spend a few days with him, and I was only too glad to accept his invitation, as I believed his knowledge of Bombay might be of great service to me.  In this I did not mistake.  I told him I wished to ascertain the whereabouts of a Rama Ragobah, who had been something between a rishi and a fakir, and he directed me at once to a fakir named Parinama who, he said, would be able to locate my man, if he were still alive and in Bombay.

You can imagine how agreeably surprised I was to find that Parinama knew Ragobah well.  I had anticipated some considerable difficulty in learning the latter’s whereabouts, and here was a man who could —­for a sufficient consideration—­tell me much, if not all, about him.  I secured an interpreter, paid Parinama my money, and proceeded to catechise him.  I give you my questions and his answers just as I jotted them down in my notebook: 

Q. What is Ragobah’s full name?

A. Rama Ragobah.

Q. How long have you known him?

A. Thirty-five year.

Q. Has he always lived in Bombay?

A. No, Sahib,

Q. Where else?

A. For a good many year he have travel all the time.

Q. Is he in Bombay now?

A. No, Sahib.

Q. Where is he?

A. Over the sea, Sahib.

Q. Do you know where?

A. He sail for America; New York.

Q. When?

A. About eleven week ago.

Q. Do you know for what he undertook this journey?