The priest smiled. One does not explain everything to a mere maharajah.
But the mere maharajah was in no mood to be put off with smiles just
then. As Yasmini got the story afterward from the bald old mendicant,
whose piety had recently won him permission to bask on the comfortable
carved stones just outside the window, Gungadhura burst forth into
such explosive profanity that the high priest ran out of the room. The
mendicant vowed that he heard the door slam--and so he did; but it
was really Gungadhura, done with argument, on his way to put threat
into action.

The mildest epithet he called Yasmini was "Widyadhara," which meant
in his interpretation of the word that she was an evil spirit condemned
to roam the earth because her sins were so awful that the other evil
spirits simply could not tolerate her.

"It is plain that the commissioner fears to let her go to Europe!" swore
Gungadhura. "Therefore it is plain that she and he have a plan between
them to loot the treasure and say nothing. Neither trusts the other, as
is the way of such people! He will not let her out of sight until he can
leave India himself!"

"He has promised to send European memsahibs to call on her," said
the priest, and the maharajah gnashed his teeth and swore like a man
stung by a hornet.

"That is to prevent me from using violence on her! He will have frequent
reports as to her health! After a time, when he has his fingers in the
treasure, he will not be so anxious about her welfare!"