As I have said, he came from nowhere, with his hands behind his back, and studied the creed for three weeks; sitting at the feet of those best competent to explain its mysteries.  Then he laughed aloud and went away, but the laugh might have been either of devotion or derision.

When he returned he was without money, but his pride was unabated.  He declared that he knew more about the things in heaven and earth than those who taught him, and for this contumacy was abandoned altogether.

His next appearance in public life was at a big cantonment in Upper India, and he was then telling fortunes with the help of three leaden dice, a very dirty old cloth, and a little tin box of opium pills.  He told better fortunes when he was allowed half a bottle of whisky; but the things which he invented on the opium were quite worth the money.  He was in reduced circumstances.  Among other people’s he told the fortune of an Englishman who had once been interested in the Simla creed, but who, later on, had married and forgotten all his old knowledge in the study of babies and Exchange.  The Englishman allowed Dana Da to tell a fortune for charity’s sake, and, gave him five rupees, a dinner, and some old clothes.  When he had eaten, Dana Da professed gratitude, and asked if there were anything he could do for his host—­in the esoteric line.

“Is there anyone that you love?” said Dana Da.  The Englishman loved his wife, but had no desire to drag her name into the conversation.  He therefore shook his head.

“Is there anyone that you hate?” said Dana Da.  The Englishman said that there were several men whom he hated deeply.

“Very good,” said Dana Da, upon whom the whisky and the opium were beginning to tell.  “Only give me their names, and I will dispatch a Sending to them and kill them.”

Now a Sending is a horrible arrangement, first invented, they say, in Iceland.  It is a thing sent by a wizard, and may take any form, but most generally wanders about the land in the shape of a little purple cloud till it finds the sendee, and him it kills by changing into the form of a horse, or a cat, or a man without a face.  It is not strictly a native patent, though chamars can, if irritated, dispatch a Sending which sits on the breast of their enemy by night and nearly kills him.  Very few natives care to irritate chamars for this reason.

“Let me dispatch a Sending,” said Dana Da; “I am nearly dead now with want, and drink, and opium; but I should like to kill a man before I die.  I can send a Sending anywhere you choose, and in any form except in the shape of a man.”

The Englishman had no friends that he wished to kill, but partly to soothe Dana Da, whose eyes were rolling, and partly to see what would be done, he asked whether a modified Sending could not be arranged for—­such a Sending as should make a man’s life a burden to him, and yet do him no harm.  If this were possible, he notified his willingness to give Dana Da ten rupees for the job.