“You are!” McGregor answered with a dry smile. “I remember, I once considered it my duty to advise threatening you with drastic penalties. I would have ordered you tortured, but for the cir-r-cumstance that that means of inducement is out of date. And besides, I had ma doots of its efficacy in your instance.”
Ommony grinned. He preferred that praise to all the orders in the almanac. “So, damn the Lama!” he went on fervently. “He has kept aloof for twenty years. I’m satisfied there’s something he’s deliberately keeping from me. I’ve no notion what it is, but that piece of jade is probably connected with it. I’m going to track him—tempt him—force his hand.”
“Are you sure you’ve no notion what he’s keeping from you?” Mrs. Cornock-Campbell asked; and Ommony stared hard at her, while McGregor blew smoke at the ceiling.
“Perhaps I have a sort of notion—yes,” he answered slowly. “Sometimes I suspect he knows what took Fred Terry and my sister to the Ahbor country.”
“And?”
Mrs. Cornock-Campbell studied him with dark blue eyes that seemed to search for something lacking in his mental make-up.
“He may know what became of them.”
Mrs. Cornock-Campbell smiled and sighed. “Well—we three will meet again before you go, I suppose?”
“No,” said Ommony. “I expect to be gone before daybreak. I’ll write when I get the chance. If we don’t meet again this side of Yama’s[[10]] Bar—”
“This is India—it might happen,” she answered. “Your friendship has been one of five things that have made my life in India worth while.”