There’s no doubt at all about it,” said the rajah, relighting his cigar.
“It’s perfectly easy, if you know how to do it. The skepticism of the West is nothing less than disgusting.”
The rajah had come to Oxford to complete his education and endue himself with the culture of Europe; and he sat in my rooms, in a frock-coat of perfect cut (he always wore a frock-coat), smoking one of my weeds and drinking a whisky-and-soda. The rajah took to European culture with avidity, and I have very little doubt that he learned many new things with which it might or might not be expedient to acquaint his fellow-countrymen and subjects when he returned to India. But all the intellectual interests of Oxford were not strong enough to wean him from his love for the ancient lore of his own country, and he was always ready to expound the hidden wisdom of the East to any inquiring spirit. As soon as I found this out, I cultivated his acquaintance sedulously; for, in common with all intelligent men of the present day, I took a keen interest in that strange learning which seemed to give its possessors such extraordinary powers.
“Can you do it?” I asked.
“I should hope so,” said the rajah contemptuously. “If I couldn’t do that, I’d turn Mahommedan.”
“I wish you’d teach me.”
The rajah took in a deep puff of smoke. “You’re sure you could manage it?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, of course, like anything else, an astral body must be treated with tact, or it gets out of hand.”