There was an interval of a second or two between each word, and a sort of “ring, ring, ring,” in the note of the voice like the timbre of a bell.  It pealed slowly, as if talking to itself, for several minutes before I got rid of my cold sweat.  Then the blessed solution struck me.  I looked at the body lying near the doorway, and saw, just where the hollow of the throat joins on the shoulders, a muscle that had nothing to do with any man’s regular breathing, twitching away steadily.  The whole thing was a careful reproduction of the Egyptian teraphin that one reads about sometimes; and the voice was as clever and as appalling a piece of ventriloquism as one could wish to hear.  All this time the head was “lip-lip-lapping” against the side of the basin, and speaking.  It told Suddhoo, on his face again whining, of his son’s illness and of the state of the illness up to the evening of that very night.  I always shall respect the seal cutter for keeping so faithfully to the time of the Peshawar telegrams.  It went on to say that skilled doctors were night and day watching over the man’s life; and that he would eventually recover if the fee to the potent sorcerer, whose servant was the head in the basin, were doubled.

Here the mistake from the artistic point of view came in.  To ask for twice your stipulated fee in a voice that Lazarus might have used when he rose from the dead, is absurd.  Janoo, who is really a woman of masculine intellect, saw this as quickly as I did.  I heard her say “Ash nahin!  Fareib!” scornfully under her breath; and just as she said so, the light in the basin died out, the head stopped talking, and we heard the room door creak on its hinges.  Then Janoo struck a match, lit the lamp, and we saw that head, basin, and seal cutter were gone.  Suddhoo was wringing his hands and explaining to anyone who cared to listen, that, if his chances of eternal salvation depended on it, he could not raise another two hundred rupees.  Azizun was nearly in hysterics in the corner; while Janoo sat down composedly on one of the beds to discuss the probabilities of the whole thing being a bunao, or “make-up.”

I explained as much as I knew of the seal cutter’s way of jadoo; but her argument was much more simple:—­“The magic that is always demanding gifts is no true magic,” said she.  “My mother told me that the only potent love spells are those which are told you for love.  This seal cutter man is a liar and a devil.  I dare not tell, do anything, or get anything done, because I am in debt to Bhagwan Dass the bunnia for two gold rings and a heavy anklet.  I must get my food from his shop.  The seal cutter is the friend of Bhagwan Dass, and he would poison my food.  A fool’s jadoo has been going on for ten days, and has cost Suddhoo many rupees each night.  The seal cutter used black hens and lemons and mantras before.  He never showed us anything like this till to-night.  Azizun is a fool, and will be a pur dahnashin soon.  Suddhoo has lost his strength and his wits.  See now!  I had hoped to get from Suddhoo many rupees while he lived, and many more after his death; and behold, he is spending everything on that offspring of a devil and a she-ass, the seal cutter!”