“Let that be as it will,” answered Siddha, half impatiently; “but I scarcely comprehend, honoured lord, why you should concern yourself about me.”
“Should not,” asked the other, “the nephew of my old friend and pupil have claim to the interest I feel in him? and for that reason I feel obliged to give you a warning, if you will take it from me. You know who Gurupada the hermit is, do you not?”
“Gurupada?” asked Siddha. “Certainly; he is a hermit living in the mountains.”
“Yes; but I mean who he was before he assumed his present name.”
“Of that I know nothing—he never alluded to it.”
“But your guru, Kulluka, must have told you.”
“I never asked him; it was nothing to me.”
Gorakh turned a penetrating look towards the speaker; but he would have been no true Indian had his countenance displayed ought but utter indifference. However, irritated by the persistence of his questioner, he proceeded, with less caution, to say, “Even if I knew who and what Gurupada had been, can you not understand that I would not tell you?”
“Ha!” cried the Yogi, “you mean you do not trust me. You mean to defy me. Do you remember that I am a friend of the Governor of Allahabad?”
“Yes, I know that,” said Siddha, expressing vexation.