Dick Oakwood picked it up and held it so that the inner surface could be seen and the Mahatma gave an exclamation of delight.
"These are the magic signs!" he cried. "Behold the wisdom of the ages engraved by seers many thousand years ago!"
"Do you understand it, Mahatma?"
"I understand it? Not I! Only a glimpse of its profound wisdom has reached my soul."
"Then what good will it do you?"
"I have recorded every detail of the inscription here." The old man tapped his forehead. "The picture of that crown is in my brain like a photograph. Soon I shall go to Holy India and there in the remote caves and temples, I shall speak to the masters who are far wiser than I."
"And will those wise men tell you what it all means?"
"Little by little! Bit by bit!" replied the Mahatma. "Each of these holy men will be able to interpret a part of the meaning. I shall visit the cave hermits in the Himalayas and the devotees in the temples, who recline on beds of spikes. I shall even go to the fastness of Tibet, where the lamas spend their lives in the search for truth."
"The temples of India! The Himalayas, with Everest the highest mountain in the world! The forbidden land of Tibet! What wonderful sights you will see!"
"Would you like to see Holy India, my son?"