Hsien Sgam laughed—a low, soft sound.
"Conceive the situation, major: this adventuring Frenchman, with only a few tengas, offering to finance the revolution! It was—do you say, droll? But I listened to him. In this very room we talked, and he sat where you are sitting now. He has a tongue as of satin. He talked for his life that night, and what he told me amazed me. I did not believe it could be done at first. I told him so, and sent him to the guest chamber which you occupied, while I thought and thought.... I went out on the city-walls. I looked toward Mongolia—Mongolia dying—and I realized that this André Chavigny should live."
The serving-women had disappeared; Trent and the Mongol were alone but for the two mailed sentinels at the doorway.
"It is not difficult for you to imagine what André Chavigny told me," said Hsien Sgam. "Before venturing into Tibet he had been in India—had visited the cities of Baroda, Indore, Gwalior.... He had seen jewels worth many millions of English pounds. He had seen and planned—only planned. Of those gems he told me—of his plan, too. He had observed, he said, the monks of Shingtse-lunpo cutting coral and turquoise ornaments; therefore, why could not they, under the proper direction, re-cut and re-set diamonds and emeralds and rubies? He knew of a market—sub rosa is the expression he used. And for a certain—er—percentage—he offered to finance the revolution.
"I presented the plan to His Holiness—with my approval—and after hours of contemplation he announced that the gods had sanctioned his consent. So the Order of the Falcon was formed—the Falcon, whose speedy wings would enable him to defeat the Japanese Black Dragon.
"When all arrangements were completed, André Chavigny and I, with a few associates, set out for India—through Burma, as you came here. André Chavigny went to Indore, I to Jehelumpore, other members of the Order to Baroda, Gwalior, Alwar, Jodpur, Tanjore, Bahawalpur and Mysore. Meanwhile, the abbot of Tsagan-dhuka was journeying with a band of pilgrims to the Sacred Bo-tree at Buddh-Gaya.
"In the work which I had to do at Jehelumpore it became necessary for me to cultivate some one who had—entrée, the French say—who had entrée into the Nawab's palace. The gods decreed that it should be Sarojini Nanjee. I met her. And to me, for the first time, came love of woman."
Hsien Sgam's smile underwent a metamorphosis—became the smile of one who tastes the gall of a bitter memory. Again, as on that night on the Manchester, Trent felt the heat of his words—words drawn from the vortices of emotion.
"I tell you this," explained the Mongol, "a thing I have told no man, so that you may fully understand.... Shinje! How I loved! I was the monk awakened to the world: desiring, as a man who sees a spring in the desert thirsts—blindly, extravagantly.... I told her of my dream of empire; I offered her a throne, and she consented to come to Tibet. Thus Sarojini Nanjee became a member of the Order of the Falcon—and my betrothed.
"Then came the night of June the fourteenth. You, as well as the English police, wondered how the jewels were removed when every border, every means of egress, was guarded. It was not difficult; it merely necessitated extreme caution. The day following the disappearance of the gems a coffin left each of the cities, accompanied by some—er—'relative' of the 'deceased.' These"—his smile expanded—"were delivered to the Abbot of Tsagan-dhuka and his lamas. After that, it was very simple. The jewels went with the pilgrims to Darjeeling. Then—" He gestured expressively.