Presently Basil, tall and slim, returned, carrying the brazen gong and sat down to flourish the stick. "Punch and Judy," said Basil; "now for it."
Akira said nothing. He looked at Patricia and Theodore, who were staring at him with astonishment, and at Basil laughing over the gong, and finally at Mara, who held the hand-bell and appeared puzzled. Suddenly the Japanese rose from his seat, and, crossing to the fire, threw something into it. Immediately a thick white smoke poured into the room, and a strong perfume came to Patricia's nostrils, which seemed to be familiar.
"The incense of Moses," she heard Theodore mutter; "hang it, the fellow does know something of these things!"
Mara also smelt the perfumed smoke. Her eyes grew fixed, her nostrils dilated and--as Patricia had seen in Theodore's room--she began to make a shaking motion with both hands. And, as formerly, she closed them together, holding the silver bell, mouth downward. As the fragrant smoke was wafted through the room, the shrill piping of the flute was heard, and Basil, according to his instructions, began to beat a low, muffled, monotonous accompaniment on the gong. The music sounded weird and Eastern, and was unlike anything Patricia had ever heard before. The stupefying incense and the smoke and the sobbing flute, wailing above the throbbing of the gong, made her head swim.
Suddenly Mara, as if she was moving in her sleep, rose slowly and walked into the centre of the room. There she began to move with swaying motion in a circle, shaking the silver bell with closed hands. Her feet scarcely made any figures, as she only walked rapidly round and round, but the upper part of her body swung from side to side, and bent backward and forward. It was like an Indian nautch, weird and uncanny. Basil seemed to think so, for he stopped his measured beating, but the smoke still wreathed itself through the room in serpentine coils, the flute shrilled loud and piercing, and Mara danced as in a dream. All at once she reeled and the bell crashed on the floor. Basil flung down the gong and sprang forward.
"She is fainting," he cried angrily, catching Mara in his arms. "Akira, what the devil does this mean? She is ill!"
"No! No!" said Mara, as the flute stopped and the scent of the incense grew faint. "I am not ill, I am--I am--what have I been doing?" and she looked vacantly round the room.
Akira laid aside his flute and spoke with suppressed excitement. "You have been performing the Miko dance," he said, trying to control himself.
"Miko! The dance of the Miko!" cried Mara, stretching out her hand; "I know, I remember. The Dance of the Divineress! At last. At----"
"Mara, you are ill!" cried Basil roughly, and catching her by the arm he hurried her, still protesting, out of the room.