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Updated: June 1, 2025
Whisky, drugs, reflection and the hints of twenty dancing girls convinced him that Jinendra's priest especially was playing a double game; for what was there in the fat man's mental ingredients that should anchor his loyalty to an ill-tempered prince, in case a princess of wit and youth and brilliant beauty should stake her cunning in the game?
It dawned on his exasperated mind that every single priest, including Jinendra's obese incumbent, was trying to take advantage of his predicament in order to feather a priestly nest or forward plans diametrically opposed to his own.
"What do we care what they believe? And supposing it were true, what then? Just at present I'm in partnership with Gungadhura." Jinendra's Smile Deep broods the calm where the cooing doves are mating And shadows quiver noiseless 'neath the courtyard trees, Cool keeps the gloom where the suppliants are waiting Begging little favors of Jinendra on their knees.
As soon as he has paid her a proportion of it she will escape to Europe to avoid me will she?" "But the commissioner refused the desired permission," said the priest, puffing his lips and stroking his stomach, as much as to add, "It's no use getting impatient in Jinendra's temple. We have all the inside information here." "What do you make of that?" demanded Gungadhura. The priest smiled.
He was superstitious enough to believe in the alleged vision of Jinendra's priest, that the clue to the treasure of Sialpore would be found in the cellar of that house, where Jengal Singh had placed it; impious enough to double-cross the priest, and to use any means whatever, foul preferred, to get possession of the clue.
"If there is danger," he said, "it is my place to lead." But nobody would permit that, Yasmini least of all. "Shall Samson choose a new maharajah so soon as all that?" she laughed. "Let the dog go first!" Tom proposed. Trotters was sniffing at the dark gap behind Jinendra's image, with eyes glaring and a low rumbling growl issuing from between bared teeth. But Trotters would not go.
Jinendra's priest welcomed him with that mixture of deference and patronage that priests have always known so well how to extend to royalty, showing him respect because priestly recognition of his royalty entitled him in logic to the outward form of it patronage because, as the "wisest fool in Christendom" remarked, "No bishop no king!"
"Because I say it I, who said that Chamu would repay his son's loan, I, who knew from the first all about the title-deed, I, who know where it is this minute, I, who know the secrets of Jinendra's priest, I, whose name stands written on the hundred-rupee note with which the butler paid his son's debt!" "The princess! The Princess Yasmini! It was her name on the note!" "Her name is mine!"
His reputation was decidedly at stake; and dangerous intrigue was in the air, or else the priest would never be coming to visit him. Sita Ram kept peeping at him through the knot-hole, as a cook peers at a tit-bit in the oven, to judge whether it is properly cooked yet. Jinendra's priest had had time for reflection.
He judged in that moment that if Jinendra's priest knew really where the treasure was, he would never have come to drive a bargain for the half of it, but would have taken all and said nothing. On the other hand, it well might be that Gungadhura's searchers had stumbled on it.
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