"Assuredly," came the quiet reply. "I have never seen nor heard from Abdul from that day to this. But as destiny had provided, long years before the actual event, a means for the accomplishment of his happiness, I have ever rested content in the belief that all was well with him—that all is well with him even yet perhaps—with him and his beloved in the valley of far-away Bokhara."
"I should like to find that hollow column," muttered the Afghan.
"As I have said, the column was contrived for love and not for rapine, my friend. Should the white stone from Coromandel that can be cunningly wrought into marble ever cross your fate, be on your guard lest the omen mean, not the gaining of a fortune, but the making of a tomb."
The Afghan smiled, half disdainfully, half uneasily, and silence reigned for a spell.
III. WHAT THE STARS ORDAINED
TOLD BY THE ASTROLOGER
"And now, master star-gazer, your proffered story," said the tax-collector, bestirring the company from its meditative mood.
"As I have promised," responded the astrologer, "I shall recount an experience that shows how the stars, if read aright, can tell us the influences for good or for evil that weigh upon a man and inevitably determine his destiny at the critical moments of his life. What is written is written, and it is impossible to strive against fate."