Terrified by this information, Alan put out his strength and shook the women off him, whereon without seeming to take any offence they drew back to a little distance and began to bow, like automata.  Then Jeekie addressed them in their own language, asking them what they meant by defiling this mighty lord, born of the Heavens, with the touch of their hands, whereat they went on bowing more humbly than before.  Next he threw aside the cushions of the litter and finding the tin box containing Little Bonsa, held it before him in both hands and bade the women lead on.

The march began, a bewildering march.  It was like a nightmare.  Veiled women with torches before and behind, Jeekie stalking ahead carrying the battered tin box, long passages lined with gold, a vision of black water edged with a wide promenade, and finally a large lamp-lit room whereof the roof was supported by gilded columns, and in the room couches of cushions, wooden stools inlaid with ivory, vessels of water, great basins made of some black, hard wood, and in the centre a block of stone that looked like an altar.

Jeekie set down the tin box upon the altar-like stone, then he turned to the crowd of women and said, “Bring food.”  Instantly they departed, closing the door of the room behind them.

“Now for a wash,” said Alan, “unlace this confounded mask, Jeekie.”

“Mustn’t, Major, mustn’t.  Priests tell me that.  If those girls see you without mask, perhaps they kill them.  Wait till they gone after supper, then take it off.  No one allowed see you without mask except Asika herself.”

Alan stepped to one of the wooden bowls full of water which stood under a lamp, and gazed at his own reflection.  The mask was gilded; the sham lips were painted red and round the eye-holes were black lines.

“Why, it is horrible,” he exclaimed, starting back.  “I look like a devil crossed with Guy Fawkes.  Do you mean to tell me that I have got to live in this thing?”

“Afraid so, Major, upon all public occasion.  At least they say that.  You holy, not lawful see your sacred face.”

“Who do the Asiki think I am, then, Jeekie?”

“They think you your reverend uncle come back after many, many year.  You see, Major, they not believe uncle run away with Little Bonsa; they believe Little Bonsa run away with uncle just for change of air and so on, and that now, when she tired of strange land, she bring him back again.  That why you so holy, favourite of Little Bonsa who live with you all this time and keep you just same age, bloom of youth.”

“In Heaven’s name,” asked Alan, exasperated, “what is Little Bonsa, beyond an ancient and ugly gold fetish?”