"It seems a very small and weak place to have stopped our invading troops in the war," he said in Bhutanese. "So here lives the Man."
"The Man? Yes, perhaps he is a man. But many, very many, there be that think him a god or devil. They say he can call up a horde of demons in the form of elephants. With such he trampled your army into the earth.
"Devils? Leave such tales to lamas and the ignorant fools that believe their teaching. But if even a part of what I have heard about this man be true he is more dangerous than many devils. He stands in China's way, and he who does shall be swept aside."
"He is my friend," said the Deb Zimpun shortly, and tramped on in silence.
Before they reached the station they were met by two of the Political Officer's men, Bhuttias resident in British territory, detailed to receive and guide them to the Government Dâk Bungalow in which the Deb Zimpun and as many of his followers as could crowd into it were to reside during their stay. Arrived at it the long line filed into the compound.
Half a mile away down the hill Colonel Dermot and Wargrave watched them through their field-glasses.
"Who is that fellow in khaki uniform, sir?" asked the subaltern.
The Political Officer lowered his binoculars and laughed.
"A gentlemen I've been very anxious to meet. He's the Chinese Amban—we call him an Envoy of the Republic of China to Bhutan. But the Chinese themselves prefer to regard him as a representative of the suzerainty they pretend to exercise over the country. I'm curious to see him. He is a product of the times, an example of the modern Celestial, educated at Heidelberg University and Oxford, speaking German, French and English. He has been specially chosen by his Government to come to a Buddhist land, as he is a son of the abbot of the Yellow Lama Temple in Pekin and so might have influence with the Bhutanese by reason of his connection with their religion."
"But what have the Chinese to do with Bhutan?"