"Highness," said the eldest, "we had thought of this, but you did not make us your confidant."
"Till an hour gone it had not occurred to me. Shall Ramabai, then, become your master, to set forth the propaganda of the infidel?"
"No!" The word was not spoken loudly, but sibilantly, with something resembling a hiss. "No!"
"And shall a king who has no mind, no will, no strength, resume his authority? Perhaps to bring more white people into Allaha, perhaps to give Allaha eventually to the British Raj?"
Again the negative.
"But the method?"
Umballa smiled. "What brings the worshiper here with candles and flowers and incense? Is it love or reverence or superstition?"
The bald yellow heads nodded like porcelain mandarins.
"Superstition," went on Umballa, "the sword which bends the knees of the layman, has and always will through the ages!"
In the vault outside a bell tinkled, a gong boomed melodiously.