With a reverential movement of the head, the white column moved away.
“Gee!” said Mr. Murdock. “Can you stand that kind of thing around all the time?”
“Oh, I’m interested in all kinds of people,” said Mr. Early. “And he’s the most inoffensive creature. I shall hardly see him. He intends to lock himself up out there in his room most of the time. He meditates in silence ten hours a day and comes forth to give a lecture that nobody understands. He’s going to be all the rage.”
“And, of course, if he’s the rage, you have him. I wish you’d make Billy Barry the rage,” said Murdock.
“It’s all I can do to popularize myself,” said Early whimsically. “I’ll think over the situation a bit, Jim, and see if I can see any way out from under. Of course, Percival hasn’t any record by which you can discredit him and keep his mouth shut—at least not yet.”
As Mr. Murdock took a last sip at the cocktail and made an unceremonious exit, again Mr. Early settled himself for a period of repose, and again he was interrupted.
“Pardon,” said the deep voice of the Swami. “You sit alone. Is it permitted that I repose here and join your meditations? For a few moments? In silence, if you will?”
“I wish you’d pour out a little rest,” said Early. “I’m tired.”
“In spirit and in body,” answered the Swami. “The rush of the wheel of life, it exhausts. But I comprehend. I also am a man. The great world of business has its necessities and its value. My outer nature shares in it. Ah, you know not. You think of me only on one side of being. But, like you, I have my sympathies with many things.”
Mr. Early made no reply, but sank deeper into his chair. The two sat long in silence. Sebastian looked at the fire and began to build up a picture of Madeline’s face. The Hindu was apparently lost to the surrounding world, and yet he occasionally darted a glance of swift, animal-like inquiry at his host.