"'State thy demands, swami,' said the sahib.
"'Now, nay, not mine, sahib, but Gannesha's,' remonstrated the old jogi. Then, after musing awhile, he went on: 'The God requireth of thee two hundred rupees for the use of his temple, and ten rupees a month, for twenty months, to salve the hurts of his twenty priests.'
"''Tis well,' said Clements Sahib, opening a drawer of the table whereat he sat, and pushing two hundred rupees across to the old man. 'Proceed.'
"After the jogi had tied the money in his loin-cloth he touched the mark on the sahib's forehead with his finger, and, lo! at the touching it disappeared.
"'And what if I should not pay thee the rest of thy demand?' asked Clements Sahib after he had looked in a mirror and seen that the mark of Gannesha was gone.
"'Thou art a Faringi ji, and wilt not fail of thy word,' replied the jogi.
"'There be bad Faringis, swami, and my heart inclineth me to their number.'
"''Twere easy to persuade thee to a right course, sahib,' said the old man, pointing his finger at Clements Sahib. 'Behold!' And the livid mark leapt out on the sahib's forehead again.
"After the mark had been removed once more by the jogi, and as he was preparing to depart, Clements Sahib said, 'Come for your monthly payment when the new moon shows, but cross not my path at any other time, or harm shall befall thee.'
"'Brave words, sahib,' returned the mendicant; 'and be careful, thyself, not to insult the Gods. Salaam,' and he went forth. So there was peace between the Gods and Clements Sahib until the jogi had received three payments.