"I've come to report a loss," he announced, looking directly at Hsien Sgam.
"Ah!" The Mongol uttered the expletive softly.
A long pause followed, each man waiting for the other to resume. Hsien Sgam took the initiative.
"I am desolated to learn that you have suffered a loss, though of what nature I am not yet aware. We—er—find it very difficult to control thievery in the city. May I inquire what you lost?"
The bronze face was as expressionless as that of the Buddha it so resembled. Nor was Trent's face any less impassive. It was as though the two had drawn armor about them.
"Last night," said the Englishman, "one of my muleteers disappeared."
"Ah!" Again the soft expletive. "Is that strange—er—Mr. Tavernake? Is it not likely that he deserted?"
Trent went on:
"He was attacked while returning from the festival with another muleteer. The latter was wounded in the struggle, knocked unconscious; and when he awakened his companion was gone. Since then I haven't seen nor heard of the missing muleteer."
A smile settled upon Hsien Sgam's beautiful face. Once more Trent caught the illusion: eyes of Lucifer, face of Buddha.