“You mean Gungadhura knows!”

The priest smiled again.  The commissioner was not such a dangerous antagonist after all.  Samson’s eyes betrayed disappointment, and the priest took heart of grace.

“For one-half of the treasure I will tell you who it is that knows.  You can take possession of the of the person.  Then—­”

“Illegal.  By what right could I arrest a person simply because some one else asserts without proof that that person knows where the treasure is?”

“Not arrest, perhaps.  But you might protect.”

“From whom?  From what?”

“Gungadhura suspects.  He might use poison—­torture—­might carry the person off into hiding—­”

He paused, for Samson’s eyes were again a signal of excitement.  He had it!  He knew as much as the priest himself did in that instant!  There was one particular individual in Sialpore who fitted that bill.

“Nonsense!” he answered.  “Gungadhura would be answerable to me for any outrages.”

The priest showed a slight trace of dejection, but went forward bravely to defeat.

“There is danger,” he said.  “If Gungadhura should lay hands on all that money, there would be no peace in Rajputana.  I should not bargain away what belongs to the priesthood, but discretion is permitted me; if you will agree with me tonight, I will accept a little less than half of it.”

Samson wanted time to think, and he was through with the priest—­finished with the interview,—­not even anxious to appear polite.

“If you bring me definite information,” he said slowly, “and on the strength of that my government should come in possession of the Sialpore treasure, I will promise you in writing five per cent. of it for the funds of the priesthood of Jinendra, the money to be held in trust and administered subject to accounting.”

Jinendra’s high priest hove his bulk out of the leather chair and went through the form of taking leave, contenting himself, too, with the veriest shell of courtesy—­scorn for such an offer scowling from his fat face.  Samson showed him to the door and closed it after him, leaving Babu Sita Ram to do the honors outside in the passage.

“I kiss feet!” said the babu.  “You must bless me, father.  I kiss feet!”

The priest blessed him perfunctorily.

“Is there anything I can do, holy one?  Anything a babu such as I can do to earn merit?”

Rolling on his ponderous way toward the waiting bull-cart, the priest paused a moment—­eyed Sita Ram as a python eyes a meal—­and answered him.

“Tell that woman from me that if she has a plan at all she must unfold it swiftly.  Tell her that this Samson sahib is after the treasure for himself; that he invited me to help him and to share it with him.  Let her have word with me swiftly.”

“What treasure?” asked Sita Ram ingenuously.  Having had his ear to the knot-hole throughout the interview, it suited him to establish innocence.  The priest could have struck himself for the mistake, and Sita Ram, too, for the impudence.