“Of course this would be the first spot on which to reappear. No one but Mr. Early would dare to give a reception in July,” Mrs. Lenox exclaimed.
“And the absurd thing,” Dick retorted, “is that you all come—back into town, leaving birds and waters—at Mr. Early’s bidding.”
“Yes, my respect for my sex rises when I see them so eager to prostrate themselves before a simple seeker after truth with a turban and a ruby. A turban and a ruby do so illuminate the search for truth!”
“You are a scoffer,” laughed Dick. “Why are you here?”
“Foolish one, I came to scoff. I must see all there is to be seen. If there is an apple to be bitten, I must bite. I have floated in with the flood and out with the ebb of almost every fad from crystal-gazing to bridge. I always hope that one of them is going to be worth while.”
“But you can’t call the Swami’s philosophy ‘a fad’,” objected Norris.
“No, perhaps that wasn’t fair. Ram Juna is really very celestial in a ponderous kind of way, isn’t he? When he talked the simple old truths I liked him, but not in the esoteric explanations and profounder mysteries. I have chased Mystery for more years than I shall own, and, so far as I can see, whenever you open the door on her secret chamber, she shuts a door on the other side and is gone into a further holy of holies. I’ve come to disbelieve in those who tell me that they have caged her at last.”
“That’s what I say,” exclaimed Dick. “A man knows too much when he tells you that Mystery is five feet three, weighs a hundred and twenty-six pounds and eats no meat.”
“It’s too much like a mixture of legerdemain and theology.”
“I always liked juggling!” exclaimed Miss Elton. “And I like the ruby. See it now, gleaming over the ranks of war-paint and hats.”