Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

116 stranger, who ignored her as if she were not there; after a few sniffs she seemed to recog- nize him and returned to the tent, where she lay down close to Ommony and watched. She had ceased growling. The hair on her neck was no longer on end. The stranger appeared to be a Sikh, but was possibly a Rajput. He was more than six feet tall, wore his black beard parted and brushed upward, looked extremely -hand- some in a gray silk turban whose end fell down over his shoulder, and was dressed in almost military looking khaki—jacket and trousers, with a gray silk cummerbund around his waist. He strode with con- summate dignity that appeared to be natu- ral, not assumed. He let go Dawa Tsering’s ear when he came within three strides of the tent, and took no further notice whatever of the Hill- man, who stood a couple of paces away and thumbed the edge of his weapon, making grimaces that were nearly as inhuman as the grin on the devil mask he had worn on the stage. There was nothing to show there had beena struggle; both men’s clothes were in order; neither man was breathing hard. The stranger’s dark-brown eyes looked steadily into the gloom within the tent and he presently saluted after a fashion of his own, quite unmilitary, something like the ancient Roman, raising his right hand, palm outward. | ‘Mr. Ommony?” he asked, in English. “No!” roared Dawa Tsering from behind him. ‘Gupta Rao, thou ignorant idiot! A Bhat-Brahmin from Bikanir—a man who has a devil in him, who can teach thee manners!’’ “Yes, ’m Ommony.” There was something in the voice and in the eyes that warned Ommony there was nothing to be gained by evasion. He stood up and returned the salute, also in his own way, adding to the gesture of his right hand an almost unnoticeable finger movement. The other man smiled. “I am Sirdar Sirohe Singh, of Tilgaun.” Ommony laughed sharply, the way a deep-sea captain coughs sarcastic comment when a pilot has missed the tide. Here was the Secret Service after all. It was Sirdar Sirohe Singh who had sent the written re- port of the missing piece of jade to McGregor. “Come in,” he said abruptly, and made Adventure room on the bed for the Sirdar to sit-down. He did not try to pretend to be glad to see him, but the Sirdar’s next words altered the whole aspect of affairs. “I do hope my letter to Number One did no harm,” he began, stretching out long legs in front of him and speaking at the tent wall. His English was almost perfect, but guttural and a trifle aspirated. ‘I was in a difficult position. As a member of the Secret Service I was obliged to report. As the lama’s friend I felt, naturally, other obligations. It was not until I learned that you were assigned to investigate that I ceased to worry.” | ‘Who told you?” asked Ommony. “Oh, I heard it. News travels, you know. No, I have not been in Delhi.”’ (He had answered Ommony’s thought; the question was unspoken.) “TI arrived last night from the north. The lama asked me to submit myself to your disposal.” “Does this place belong to you?” asked Ommony, examining the calm, strong pro- file against the light. He had heard that the Sirdar was a wealthy landowner. ““No. The lama has the temporary use of At ee 3 “It was very kind of you to—how did you express it?—submit yourself to my dis- posal. What I most need is information,” said Ommony. “Ah. That is elusive stuff.” “Not if you keep after it. Tell me what you know about the lama.” The Sirdar turned his head quickly and looked straight at him. “Did you receive a note?” he asked. was tied to the dog’s collar.” Ommony looked into the baffling dark eyes and could read nothing there except that the Sirdar knew much more than he proposed to tell. He was also conscious of dislike and knew that it was mutual. ‘Just to what extent are you at my dis- posal?’’ he asked bluntly. “T am to convey you to another place. Of course, that is at the proper time, and if you wish to go; not otherwise.”’ ‘Which place? Will the lama be there?” “Probably.” “Tell me what you know of Samding.” “Did you read the note?” asked the Sir- dar, again meeting Ommony’s stare. “I have a message for you from Miss San- burn at the Tilgaun mission. She enter- tained me the night I left Tilgaun. I ae & Comicboolk A) (© 5}