"Isn't he stunning?" he exclaimed most unpoetically.
Yamama was, indeed, pleasing to the eye. His light-brown complexion, dark brilliant eyes and gorgeous costume made a picture that gave an Oriental splendor to our drawing-room. He stood motionless for a moment, half-way between Caroline and me. Suddenly it flashed upon me that I had a duty to perform. Caroline and I reached Yamama at the same time.
"It was so kind of you to come to us," I heard Caroline saying to the adept. "Mrs. Stevens was overjoyed to hear that you had consented to honor us."
Yamama's black, fathomless eyes smiled at me, like deep, dark pools touched by sunshine. A chill ran through me, but I found strength to say, falteringly:
"Glad to see you, Mr.--ah--Yamama. We're so interested--ah--Reginald and I--in Bhesotericuddhism! Glad to see you! Aren't we--ah--Reggie?"
I suspected that Caroline chuckled behind my beard. I am sure that the smile in Yamama's eyes deepened.
We had grouped ourselves around the adept, who stood calm, picturesque, silent, in the center of the room; the majesty and mystery of the brooding East seeming to fill the universe of a sudden. It was as some priceless Oriental rug had become on the instant not merely an ornament, but a creation of infinite psychical significance.
"Does he talk?" Edgerton whispered to me, and I glanced at him, reprovingly. Mrs. Edgerton was gazing, awestruck, at Yamama. Presently, the adept spoke, in a voice that drove from my fevered mind all thoughts of frogs, snakes and tadpoles.
"Man is composed of seven principles, a unit, but capable of partial separation."
"Well, rather!" I could not refrain from saying, but Yamama ignored my rudeness. He went on impressively, while the group surrounding him listened eagerly, fascinated by his appearance and manner.