Trent was subconsciously following a detached idea. He remembered that the priests were at Gaya on the night Manlove was murdered, and if their purpose was that suggested by Kerth, it furnished a reason for Chavigny being there....
"Nor is that all I know," Kerth resumed. "Caravan-loads of rifles have been brought here from Mongolia—Russian rifles—also gunpowder and dynamite. They're stored in the armory under the monastery. Has that any significance to you?... Trent, we may yet bring down a brace of birds when we only expected to pot one.... I'm more than a little concerned with Sarojini Nanjee; I can't adjust her with this business. What are her secret strings that give her so much power? What can she expect to do alone? She has a trump card up her sleeve, mark my words. She's no fool, and I'd feel deucedly better if I were certain she was going to play that card for us."
"She promised," Trent reminded.
Kerth smiled wryly, but the smile passed quickly.
"Captain Manlove?" he queried. "You've learned nothing?"
Trent shook his head. The silence after that was heavy. Kerth ended it.
"I can't stay any longer now. I'm cultivating the abbot of one of the lesser monasteries, with the view of eventually being assigned to a cell in Lhakang-gompa. I've a suspicion I'll find something of interest there, if I ever get in. I daresay you're scheduled to witness the ceremonies to-morrow, so I won't have an opportunity to see you until to-morrow night, but I'll return then, about this hour." He extended his lean hand. "Here's luck to you!"
"The same," Trent responded with a smile, gripping his hand. "How'd you get in?"
Kerth indicated the wall. "Give me a lift, will you?"
Trent clasped his hands, and, by stepping into the foothold thus formed, Kerth was able to grasp the top of the wall and draw himself up. There he sat for a moment, looking below on the other side; then, with a wave of farewell, he dropped from sight.