“Oho! That is inconspicuous dress of chela attached to service of lamaistic lama. Complete in every particular,” said Hurree Babu, rolling into the balcony to clean his teeth at a goglet. “I am of opeenion it is not your old gentleman’s precise releegion, but rather sub-variant of same. I have contributed rejected notes To Whom It May Concern: Asiatic Quarterly Review on these subjects. Now it is curious that the old gentleman himself is totally devoid of releegiosity. He is not a dam’ particular.”
“Do you know him?”
Hurree Babu held up his hand to show he was engaged in the prescribed rites that accompany tooth-cleaning and such things among decently bred Bengalis. Then he recited in English an Arya-Somaj prayer of a theistical nature, and stuffed his mouth with pan and betel.
“Oah yes. I have met him several times at Benares, and also at Buddh Gaya, to interrogate him on releegious points and devil-worship. He is pure agnostic—same as me.”
Huneefa stirred in her sleep, and Hurree Babu jumped nervously to the copper incense-burner, all black and discoloured in morning-light, rubbed a finger in the accumulated lamp-black, and drew it diagonally across his face.
“Who has died in thy house?” asked Kim in the vernacular.
“None. But she may have the Evil Eye—that sorceress,” the Babu replied.
“What dost thou do now, then?”
“I will set thee on thy way to Benares, if thou goest thither, and tell thee what must be known by Us.”
“I go. At what hour runs the te-rain?” He rose to his feet, looked round the desolate chamber and at the yellow-wax face of Huneefa as the low sun stole across the floor. “Is there money to be paid that witch?”