He paused.

“There was now a delicate odor, everywhere, faintly, like the blossom of the little bitter apple here in your country.  The red embers in the fireplace gave out a steady light; and in the glow of it, on the marble hearth, stood the one who had descended from the elevation of the andiron.”

Again the man hesitated, as for an accurate method of expression.

“In the flesh, Excellency, there was color that would not appear in the image.  The hair was yellow, and the eyes were blue; and against the black marble of the fireplace the body was conspicuously white.  But in every other aspect of her, Excellency, the woman was on the hearth in the flesh as she is in the clutch of the savage male figure in the image.

“There is no dress or ornament, as you will recall, Excellency.  Not even an ear-jewel or an anklet, as though the graver of the image felt that the inherent beauty of his figure could take nothing from these ostentations.  The woman’s heavy yellow hair was wound around her head, as in the image.  She shivered a little, faintly, like a naked child in an unaccustomed draught of air, although she stood on the warm marble hearth and within the red glow of the fire.

“The voice from the male figure of the image, which I had brought the Master, and which stood as the andiron, now so immensely enlarged, was beginning again to speak.  The thin metallic sounds seemed to splinter against the dense silence, as it went forward in the ritual prescribed.

“But the Master had already decided; he stood now on the great marble hearth with his papers crushed together.  And as I looked on, through the crevice under the doorsill, he put out his free hand and with his finger touched the woman gently.  The flesh under his finger yielded, and stooping over, he put the formulas into the fire.”

Like one who has come to the end of his story, the huge Oriental stopped.  He remained for some moments silent.  Then he continued in an even, monotonous voice

“I got up from the floor then, and purified myself with water.  And after that I went into an upper chamber, opened the window to the east, and sat down to write my report to the brotherhood.  For the thing which I had been sent to do was finished.”

He put his hand somewhere into the loose folds of his Oriental garment and brought out a roll of thin vellum like onion-skin, painted in Chinese characters.  It was of immense length, but on account of the thinness of the vellum, the roll wound on a tiny cylinder of wood was not above two inches in thickness.

“Excellency,” he said, “I have carefully concealed this report through the misfortunes that have attended me.  It is not certain that I shall be able to deliver it.  Will you give it for me to the jewel merchant Vanderdick, in Amsterdam?  He will send it to Mahadal in Bombay, and it will go north with the caravans.”

His voice changed into a note of solicitation.