Adventure Magazine Cover — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Om CHAPTER V THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE PASSAGE He who puts his hand into the fire knows what he may expect. Nor may the fire be blamed. He who intrudes on a neighbor may receive what he does not expect. Nor may the neighbor be blamed. The fire will not be harmed; but the neighbor may be. And every deed, of every kind, bears corresponding consequences to the doer. You may spend a thousand lives repaying wrong done to a neighbor. Therefore, of the two indiscretions prefer thrusting your own hand into the fire. But there is a Middle Way, which avoids all tres- passing.—F rom the Maxims of Tsiang Samdup. HUTTER CHAND’S usefulness had vanished. His brain did not function now that fear had the upper hand. He could think of nothing but the Hillman’s knife and of the possibility that there might be more Hillmen, who would knock down the policeman at the door, storm the shop, loot everything and slay. “YT tell you, Ommonee, you have only lived in India twenty years. You do not know these people!’’ He began hurriedly putting in order a mechanical system of wire and weights by which the snakes might be released in an emergency, and complaining bitterly against a Government whose laws forbade the keep- ing of firearms by responsible, reputable, law-abiding citizens. Ommony laughed and walked out with both fists in his pockets, preceded by Diana, who was a lady of one idea at a time, and that one next door to an obsession. She had “seen ’em home.” L£rgo, she should now show Ommony where “home” was, and he was quite satisfied to follow her. To have tracked Dawa Tsering the Hillman would simply have been waste of time, for the man would soon see he was followed and would almost certainly play a great game of follow-my-leader all over town. Moreover, the very name of the lama—Tsiang Samdup—had excited him in the sort of way that news of an ancient tomb excites an archeologist. It was well on toward evening—that quarter of an hour when the streets are most densely thronged and every one seems in a hurry to get home or to get something done before starting home. All cities are alike in that respect; there is a space before the slack of suppertime and temple services. The hound threaded her way patiently through the crowd and turned down a nar- row thoroughfare past fruit and vegetable shops, where chafferers were arguing to cheapen produce at the day’s end and all the races of the Punjab seemed to be mixed in tired confusion—faded and ill-tempered because the evening breeze had not yet come and walls were giving off the oven- heat they had stored up during the day. There was no especial need to take pre- cautions. Sufficient time had elapsed since the lama and his young companion left the Chandni Chowk to convince them they had not been followed; and in any case, the most ill-advised thing Ommony could have done would be to act secretively. A man at- tracts the least attention if he goes straight forward. - Those who noticed him at all admired or feared the dog, and she paid no attention even to the mongrels of her own genus, who snarled from a respectful distance or fled down alleyways. A few small boys fol- lowed and asked questions about the dog, but even they desisted after a while. An occasional beggar demanded alms and re- ceived the tribute that a reasonably pros- perous man should pay to those who bear more than their share of evil—the beggars giving no thanks, but a brief acknowledg- ment, since the giver benefits himself, as they all know East of Europe. Diana turned at last down suffocating passages that led one into another between blind walls, where death might overtake a man without causing a stir a dozen yards away. But if you think of death in India, you die. To live, you must think of living, and be interested. One of the passages opened at last into a square courtyard, whose walls were built of blocks that had been quarried from the ancient city; for cities surrender them- selves to posterity, even as human mothers do. The paving was of the same material, still bearing traces of the ancient carving but rearranged at random so that the pat- tern was all gone. At the end of the courtyard was a stone building of three stories, whose upper windows overlooked it. ‘Those below had been bricked up. There was an open door in the wall, that led into a long, arched passage in which other doors to right and left were visible. Diana ran straight to the open door and stopped. Ommony began to feel now like a sailor on a lee shore, with rocks ahead and pirates MICLOOOK 78 (C@ in