The blood pulsed in Trent's temples. For once his stupefaction escaped the citadel of his impassivity. Nor could Hsien Sgam control his amazement. The Mongol stared—stared with the air of a man struggling to grasp something beyond his ken of thought, beyond possibility.
Kerth's voice broke the spell—proof to Trent that what he saw was no sorcery of the eyes.
"I'm not so sure our friend the Governor has no other firearms on his person. Suppose you investigate, major."
At the sound of the voice, a voice that spoke English, Hsien Sgam seemed to awaken to a realization of the situation. Surprise was replaced by a queer, half-dazed expression.
"I have been without wits," he said, more to himself than to the others. "I did not for a moment consider that there might be two—that...." Words perished on his lips. His breathing was audible—the heavy breathing of one suddenly stricken. He recovered enough to ask: "His Holiness—what have you done to him? Have you—"
"It's hardly my place to answer questions," drawled Kerth; "surely not my intention." Then: "Go ahead, major."
As Trent approached, Hsien Sgam lifted his hand.
"Am I to be forced to submit to the indignity of being searched?"
Neither Englishman answered, but Trent paused tentatively.
"If I give my word," Hsien Sgam pursued, "that I am unarmed, will not that be sufficient?"