Caravans By Night Part 46

LHAKANG-GOMPA

From the very midst of slumber Trent was shot into consciousness. He opened his eyes to find himself submerged in darkness, and to feel another presence in the black flood. His hand went involuntarily to the revolver that he kept always within reach, and as he lifted himself upon his elbow, one hand gripping the weapon, he saw a body silhouetted upon the grayish rectangle of a window.

"_Tajen!_" whispered a voice that he recognized as that of one of the muleteers. "It is Hsiao. There is a man below.... He told me to be quiet and not arouse the guard.... He brought this for you."

A folded sheet of paper was thrust into Trent's hand. The scent of sandalwood caressed his nostrils and cleared his brain of the last tangle of drowsiness. He rose and sought his electric torch, which was in his kit-bag. Snapping on the light, he read the note.... It was brief; merely instructed him to follow the bearer and was signed by Sarojini Nanjee.... A glance at his watch showed him it was after two o'clock.

"Where is he? In the quadrangle?" Trent queried.

"Yes, _Tajen_."

"I'll be there directly."

Trent strapped his revolver to his thigh; procured a certain object from his pack; went below.

A thin, misting rain was falling, and the wind swept down in cold legions from the snows of the North. It was a night to kindle icy flame in the marrow. Gray gloom lay like a ghoulish lacquer upon the world, and dogs were howling somewhere in the city.

Sarojini's messenger was a thin-featured Tibetan with long hair. He extended a dark bundle to Trent and muttered something in his own tongue.

"He says for you to put those on, _Tajen_," translated the muleteer.

Unrolling the bundle, Trent saw a long toga and a pair of heavy Tibetan boots. The latter he pulled on with some difficulty, then threw the toga about his shoulders.

The long-haired messenger touched his arm, motioning toward the garden.

Hsiao, the muleteer, accompanied them to the wall, where he lent Trent his aid in reaching the top. Outside, the Englishman found himself in a narrow lane that opened upon the street.

Through ghostly highways they moved. Now and then a dog snarled viciously and slunk away as the Tibetan kicked at him. They traveled along constricted streets, some graduated into steps, and past silent, whitewashed houses that loomed spectral in the night. These ramifications led them to a stone bridge and a roadway between tall bamboo and the black blur of trees. Trent could see the city's walls now, beyond rounded clumps of bushes. From this cl.u.s.tered vegetation rose a large temple-like edifice whose dome shone dully through the drizzle.

A lane branched off from the main road and took them to the gates of the temple-like building. First, a courtyard, then an imposing doorway.

Within, it was damp and cold. b.u.t.ter-lamps made a feeble attempt to disperse rebellious shadows. Monster shapes, which Trent perceived to be idols, glowed sullenly in the semi-dark.

A hall with red-lacquered pillars led to a ma.s.sive portal that was opened by a bra.s.s ring. It swung back, to release the odor of incense and rancid b.u.t.ter and to admit Trent and the Tibetan into a vast s.p.a.ce that evidently was a temple. b.u.t.ter-lamps hiccoughed and threw their reflections upon brazen images and old armor. In the remote end a dull ma.s.s of gold kindled in the temple-dusk, a form that took on the shape of a huge idol--and from beneath the shining G.o.d came a figure of familiar proportions.

"Greetings, man of many faces!" said Sarojini Nanjee in her sweet voice, a voice that rang like the notes of a gong in the ponderous silence of the temple.

Trent glimpsed behind her a man in claret-colored vestments. The face was strongly reminiscent of one he had recently seen, and after a few seconds recognition flashed into him. He was the one whom Na-chung had pointed out in the amphitheater as the Great Magician of Shingtse-lunpo.

The woman, seeing Trent's look and misunderstanding it, announced:

"He knows only Tibetan and Hindustani; that is why I speak English."

Then she added, "He is the third most powerful man in Shingtse-lunpo."

Trent casually took in Sarojini Nanjee's manner of dress--casually, because he did not wish to appear particularly interested. She wore a long maroon garment such as Tibetan women wear; only the lines were not bulky, but adapted themselves to the purpose of revealing the contours of her figure. Her skin was darkened by a stain--skin that was quite unlike that of the women of Shingtse-lunpo in that it was smooth and without a coat of dust and grease. A silver aureole rose behind her black hair, which was parted after the Tibetan fashion. A flame, as of black opals, danced and flashed in her eyes as she smiled at him.

"I have not sent for you before," she told him, "because it would have been indiscreet. Too, we could have done nothing until now. I did not know of your arrival until many hours after you reached the city. I--"

"You expected my muleteers to report my presence," he put in, smiling.

She smiled, too, although he could see she was not pleased.

"Yes. Where are they?"

"I didn't fancy being spied upon night and day," he replied, "so I left them at Tali-fang."

"Do you realize that was disobeying me?"

"You didn't forbid changing servants." After a pause he went on, "Yet my precautions were useless, for I daresay by now you know everything that happened since I left Tali-fang."

She looked at him quizzically. (And he did not know whether the expression was genuine or not.)

"What do you mean?"

"One of my men failed to put in his appearance last night. I naturally surmised"--this rather drily--"that you detained him to find out what he knew."

He was watching her closely, and again that quizzical expression clouded her eyes. After a moment she smiled queerly.

"You accuse me of crude tactics," she said; then switched off with: "But tell me, what have you learned since your arrival?"

He answered discreetly. "I attended the festival to-day."

She nodded. "I saw you. I was in the Governor's stall. Because of his vigilance I dared not communicate with you before this. He watches me as a hawk watches its prey." (Trent wondered if the word "hawk" had any significance.) "But while the bird sleeps, the cobra goes about its business.... You have not yet told me what you learned."

After some deliberation he said:

"I know of Sakya-muni; and I know that monks from Shingtse-lunpo accompanied the abbot who pilgrimaged to Gaya."

A second time she nodded. "Do you know what occurred at Gaya?"

Trent's heart was beating swiftly as he countered:

"You should know; you were there at the time."

And his heart beat swifter as she whipped back:

"Who told you that?"

Trent was thrusting boldly. He meant to beat down all guards, to win or lose. The suspense, the groping in the dark, was consuming his nerve-tissues.

"Hsien Sgam," he lied.

A typhoon of rage flashed across her beautiful face. It spent itself quickly. She opened her lips; closed them; and after a s.p.a.ce said quite calmly:

"Why did Hsien Sgam tell you that?"

Trent shrugged. "How do I know?"

She gestured impatiently. "What question did you ask that caused him to tell that?"

Having gone so far, Trent ventured a step further.