“Can’t. I’ve sent it to Tilgaun. The Lama doesn’t know that. He thinks I’ve got it with me.”
“Well? Then if you go to Tilgaun, won’t he follow you?”
“Undoubtedly. But I prefer to follow him. It’s this way: you and I, Benjamin, have been friends for fifteen years, haven’t we? If you have anything you want to keep from me—I don’t doubt there are lots of things—you tell me point-blank, and I’m careful to shut my eyes and ears. If I stumble on anything by accident, I dismiss it from mind; I forget it. If you tell me a secret in confidence, I keep it a secret—take no advantage of you. I know you treat me in the same way. But the Lama is supposed to have been my friend for twenty years, although I’ve never met him to speak to—never saw him until yesterday. He has always managed not to meet me, without ever giving any reason for it; and he has conveyed the impression that he is keeping some great secret from me, without having the courtesy to ask me to restrain natural curiosity. Now comes this piece of jade, with all sorts of mysterious side-issues. He traces it into my hands. Instead of asking me for it, and asking me, as one friend to another, not to follow up the mystery, he spies on me—deliberately counts on my honesty and courtesy—and keeps out of sight. He plans to meet me at Tilgaun, where his arm might be lots longer than mine. I used to consider him a wise old Saint, but lately he has made me suspect him of deep mischief. His spying on me is an open invitation to me to spy on him. I propose to find out all I can about him. If he has been using me as a stalking-horse all these years—”
“You could begin at Tilgaun, Ommony, just as easily as here,” said Benjamin, stroking his beard. His eyes were glittering eagerly, but friendship apparently imposed the obligation to find fault with a plan if possible before helping to carry it out.
“No. He wants me to go straight to Tilgaun. I don’t propose to play into his hands. The place to begin to unravel a mystery is at one or the other end of it.”
“He may have traced you to my place, Ommony. If you should go with Maitraya, the Lama will know it. If he thinks you have the stone in your possession, he will—”
“Probably try to steal the stone. I’m hoping he will exhaust his ingenuity. I can create a mystery on my own account; he’ll be puzzled. He won’t dare to have me murdered until he knows for certain where the stone is. For fear of losing track of it altogether, he’ll have to do everything possible to preserve my life and to save me from exposure.”
“If he is clever, he will go straight to Tilgaun!” said Benjamin. “That is what I would do in his place. Then you would have to follow him.”
“If he does that, well and good. But if my guess is right, he has a whole network of intrigue to attend to. He proposed to have me cool my heels in Tilgaun while he attended to business on the way.”
Benjamin began to pace the floor between the heaps of assorted clothing. He seemed to be torn between personal interest and desire to give Ommony the soundest possible advice. He muttered to himself. His arms moved as if he were arguing. Once he stood still with his back toward Ommony and bit his nails. Then he walked the floor again three or four times, almost stopping each time as he passed Ommony. At last he stood still in front of him.