"'I guess ez haow a wet won't hurt,' and he poured himself out a glass from the bottle--we weren't up to decanters in Burma then.
"I thought I might as well go, and, having made up my mind, we were walking down the street in the next ten minutes. Rangoon was not laid out in squares as it is now, with each street numbered, so that losing your way is an impossibility. Well as I knew the place, I found that Hake Stevens was aware of short cuts and by-lanes which I had never seen before. We entered the Chinese quarter. It was a feast-day for John, and the street was alight with paper lanterns: dragons, serpents, globes, and tortoises swung to and fro in all manner of colours. Here a green dragon went openmouthed at a yellow serpent, there an amber tortoise swung in a circle of crimson-and-blue globes. We passed a joss house, where there was an illuminated inscription to the effect that enlightenment finds its way even amongst the outer barbarians, and, turning to the left, much where Twenty-Seven Street is now--a fire wiped out all that part of Rangoon years ago--went up a gully, and finally stopped before a small shop. Sitting in a cane chair in the doorway was a short man, so enormously stout that he was almost globular. 'Is he in?' asked Stevens, in English; and the man, with his teeth closed on the stem of the opium pipe he smoked, answered 'Yess,' or rather hissed the words between his lips. We passed by him with some little difficulty, for he made no effort to move, and, ascending a rickety staircase, entered a small room, dimly lighted by a cheap kerosene lamp. In one corner of the room an old man was seated. He rose as we entered, and saluted us.
"'This is the host,' and Stevens waved his hand in introduction. 'But he knows only about six words of English, and I know nothing of his derned lip, so you see my new pard an' I cayn't very well exchange confidences.'
"I confess to a feeling of utter disappointment when I saw what we had come to; but there was no use in saying anything. 'Who is he? How did you get to know him?' I asked Stevens. He closed an eyebrow over one of his white-grey eyes with a portentous wink.
"'That, pard, is one of the secrets of the past. We hev the future before us.'
"I never could quite make Stevens out. He spoke the most obtrusive Yankee; yet with turns of expression which at times induced me to think he was playing a part.
"'Very well,' I laughed,' I don't want to look back; but may I ask what is the entertainment this gentleman has provided for us?'
"'Wal,' replied Stevens, 'he's just one of their medicine-men: goes off to sleep, and then tells you all about everything. I'm goin' to lay round for him to tell us where Brito's pile is. Spirit-rappin' does strange things in my country, an' I don't see ez how this old cuss moutn't be of help.'
"The old tack again!--I resigned myself to fate. There is no use in going into preliminaries. Stevens stated what he wanted, and I explained fully and clearly what was required. We then paid our fee, which the old gentleman wrapped up for security in a corner of the saffron sash he wore round his head, and told us to sit down before him. Then he stripped himself to the waist--there wasn't much to remove--and spread a square of white cloth on the floor; on this he placed a mirror, brought the light close to the mirror, and then settled himself cross-legged before his arrangement of mirror and light.
"'Listen!' he said in Burmese. 'I have given my word, and will show you what you want; but you must not speak, and you must follow my directions implicitly.'