and many hundreds have come hither from overseas. They are east, they
are south, they are west."

He made gesture towards these three points of the compass. A dark frown
came upon the old man's forehead. "I ordered that none should seek to
follow, that I be left in peace till my pilgrimage was done. Even as the
first pilgrims of our people in the days of Timur Beg in India, so I have
come forth from among you all till the time be fulfilled."

There was a crafty look in the old man's eyes as he spoke, and ages of
dubious reasoning and purpose showed in their velvet depths.

"No one has sought me but you in all these years," he continued. "Who
are you that you should come? I did not call, and there was my command
that none should call to me."

A bolder look grew in the other's face. His carriage gained in ease.
"There is trouble everywhere--in Italy, in Spain, in France, in England,
in Russia, in mother India"--he made a gesture of salutation and bowed
low--"and our rites and mysteries are like water spilt upon the ground.
If the hand be cut off, how shall the body move? That is how it is. You
are vanished, my lord, and the body dies."

The old man plucked his beard again fiercely and his words came with
guttural force. "That is fool's talk. In the past I was never
everywhere at once. When I was in Russia, I was not in Greece; when I
was in England, I was not in Portugal. I was always 'vanished' from one
place to another, yet the body lived."

"But your word was passed along the roads everywhere, my Ry. Your tongue