Fleete began the night with sherry and bitters, drank champagne steadily up to dessert, then raw, rasping Capri with all the strength of whisky, took Benedictine with his coffee, four or five whiskies and sodas to improve his pool strokes, beer and bones at half-past two, winding up with old brandy.  Consequently, when he came out, at half-past three in the morning, into fourteen degrees of frost, he was very angry with his horse for coughing, and tried to leapfrog into the saddle.  The horse broke away and went to his stables; so Strickland and I formed a Guard of Dishonour to take Fleete home.

Our road lay through the bazaar, close to a little temple of Hanuman, the Monkey-god, who is a leading divinity worthy of respect.  All gods have good points, just as have all priests.  Personally, I attach much importance to Hanuman, and am kind to his people—­the great gray apes of the hills.  One never knows when one may want a friend.

There was a light in the temple, and as we passed, we could hear voices of men chanting hymns.  In a native temple, the priests rise at all hours of the night to do honour to their god.  Before we could stop him, Fleete dashed up the steps, patted two priests on the back, and was gravely grinding the ashes of his cigar-butt into the forehead of the red stone image of Hanuman.  Strickland tried to drag him out, but he sat down and said solemnly: 

’Shee that?  ‘Mark of the B-beasht! I made it.  Ishn’t it fine?’

In half a minute the temple was alive and noisy, and Strickland, who knew what came of polluting gods, said that things might occur.  He, by virtue of his official position, long residence in the country, and weakness for going among the natives, was known to the priests and he felt unhappy.  Fleete sat on the ground and refused to move.  He said that ‘good old Hanuman’ made a very soft pillow.

Then, without any warning, a Silver Man came out of a recess behind the image of the god.  He was perfectly naked in that bitter, bitter cold, and his body shone like frosted silver, for he was what the Bible calls ‘a leper as white as snow.’  Also he had no face, because he was a leper of some years’ standing and his disease was heavy upon him.  We two stooped to haul Fleete up, and the temple was filling and filling with folk who seemed to spring from the earth, when the Silver Man ran in under our arms, making a noise exactly like the mewing of an otter, caught Fleete round the body and dropped his head on Fleete’s breast before we could wrench him away.  Then he retired to a corner and sat mewing while the crowd blocked all the doors.

The priests were very angry until the Silver Man touched Fleete.  That nuzzling seemed to sober them.

At the end of a few minutes’ silence one of the priests came to Strickland and said, in perfect English, ’Take your friend away.  He has done with Hanuman, but Hanurnan has not done with him.’  The crowd gave room and we carried Fleete into the road.