‘"This way,” sez my fat friend, duckin’ behind a big bull-god an’ divin’ into a passage.  Thin I remimbered that I must ha’ made the miraculous reputation av that temple for the next fifty years.  “Not so fast,” I sez, an’ I held out both my hands wid a wink.  That ould thief smiled like a father.  I tuk him by the back av the neck in case he should be wishful to put a knife into me unbeknownst, an’ I ran him up an’ down the passage twice to collect his sensibilities!  “Be quiet,” sez he, in English.  “Now you talk sense,” I sez.  “Fwhat ’ll you give me for the use av that most iligant palanquin I have no time to take away?”—­“Don’t tell,” sez he.  “Is ut like?” sez I.  “But ye might give me my railway fare.  I’m far from my home an’ I’ve done you a service.”  Bhoys, ’tis a good thing to be a priest.  The ould man niver throubled himself to dhraw from a bank.  As I will prove to you subsequint, he philandered all round the slack av his clothes an’ began dribblin’ ten-rupee notes, old gold mohurs, and rupees into my hand till I could hould no more.’

‘You lie!’ said Ortheris.  ’You’re mad or sunstrook.  A native don’t give coin unless you cut it out o’ ’im.  ‘Tain’t nature.’

‘Then my lie an’ my sunstroke is concealed under that lump av sod yonder,’ retorted Mulvaney unruffled, nodding across the scrub.  ‘An’ there’s a dale more in nature than your squidgy little legs have iver taken you to, Orth’ris, me son.  Four hundred an’ thirty-four rupees by my reckonin’, an’ a big fat gold necklace that I took from him as a remimbrancer, was our share in that business.’

‘An’ ‘e give it you for love?’ said Ortheris.

‘We were alone in that passage.  Maybe I was a trifle too pressin’, but considher fwhat I had done for the good av the temple and the iverlastin’ joy av those women.  ‘Twas cheap at the price.  I wud ha’ taken more if I cud ha’ found ut.  I turned the ould man upside down at the last, but he was milked dhry.  Thin he opened a door in another passage an’ I found mysilf up to my knees in Benares river-water, an’ bad smellin’ ut is.  More by token I had come out on the river-line close to the burnin’ ghat and contagious to a cracklin’ corpse.  This was in the heart av the night, for I had been four hours in the temple.  There was a crowd av boats tied up, so I tuk wan an’ wint across the river.  Thin I came home acrost country, lyin’ up by day.’

‘How on earth did you manage?’ I said.

’How did Sir Frederick Roberts get from Cabul to Candahar?  He marched an’ he niver tould how near he was to breakin’ down.  That’s why he is fwhat he is.  An’ now—­’ Mulvaney yawned portentously.  ‘Now I will go an’ give myself up for absince widout leave.  It’s eight an’ twenty days an’ the rough end of the colonel’s tongue in orderly room, any way you look at ut.  But ‘tis cheap at the price.’

‘Mulvaney,’ said I softly.  ’If there happens to be any sort of excuse that the colonel can in any way accept, I have a notion that you’ll get nothing more than the dressing-gown.  The new recruits are in, and—­’