"Mr. Early is away, isn't he?"

Lena was growing confused. She turned the glittering string around and around on her arm, and her heart was big with foolish longing. The necklace seemed the only thing in life worth while. Ram Juna's quick movements and urgent words quite took away her powers of reasoning.

"Mr. Early? Yes. He returned this morning. Shall I tell you a great secret, Madame? A man loves the one for whom he does a favor. Would it not be wise to let Mr. Early do this thing for you? I know he will lend you without question. It will hereafter bind him to you. See. I make the arrangements with him myself. Ladies know nothing of business, and I not much. But I talk with him, he understands, and I make all smooth. Will you? Shall I? Yes or no? Do not lose such a treasure by hesitancy. Your husband shall thank you when he comes again. Yes? See the sunlight comes through the trees and makes the rubies like itself."

"Oh, if Mr. Early would," said Lena. "I don't see why I shouldn't. And if Mr. Percival thinks I can't afford it, the rubies are worth more than I paid for them anyway."

"You are reasonable. Hold it. I trust you while I go to see Mr. Early, and return. The necklace is yours, beautiful lady."

Ram Juna was awakened from his usual serenity and full of tiger-like restlessness. Again he plunged through the hedge, and Lena saw the white turban flying toward the house. Even Mr. Early looked around startled as his usually torpid guest burst into the little den.

"h.e.l.lo!" he said. "What's up?"

"Early, I bring you opportunity, the greatest of gifts. The favor I shall confer, is it less than the favor I have received from you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Sebastian.

"Once you say that you will give much to get the young Percival in your power."

"Yes. What of it?"

"It is done."

A look of real interest began to illuminate Mr. Early's face. "Well?" he said sharply.

"I have rubies--rubies to lure the heart of a woman from her bosom.

Madame, the young wife would give her soul--if she but had one. That is too hard. Let her give her note." The Swami laughed gently. "You would lend her five thousand dollars, my friend, to buy rubies from me. That is an empty show. She gives you the note. I give her the necklace that she must have. That is all. There is no need to give me money. I return your hospitality thus."

"Well, suppose I did all this. d.i.c.k Percival could easily discharge his wife's debt."

"Not so fast. Not so fast. The young wife is a fool as well as a knave.

To the note she shall sign her husband's name. That I will bring to pa.s.s. But you know nothing of this. Of course not. You suppose that the signature is genuine. You are unaware that Percival is out of town. And I--if I am guilty--I am with my guilty knowledge in the hut in the mountains of India. Do you not think that while you hold that note young Percival will gladly serve you in any fashion that you may choose, rather than that so foolish a piece of wife's knavery should come abroad?"

"Gee whizz!" exclaimed Mr. Early, gazing at the simple seeker after truth, whose face shone with a radiant smile. "Gee whizz! Ram Juna, but you are a business man! But she won't sign her husband's name."

Ram Juna's smile expanded cheerfully.

"Let that remain to me. You have but to play your part," he said.

Mr. Early thought hard for a moment.

"There is need to haste," said the Swami gently. "She is now in the garden where access is easy. Make the note. I will take it to her to sign. Hasten, my friend."

Mr. Early drew toward him pen and ink.

"It's a little flyer, and there may be something in it," he said. "I don't see that I get into trouble any way. But see here, Swami, you deserve something for your work. I'm not going to see you lose that five thousand. When you bring me this I O U with d.i.c.k Percival's signature, I'll give you my check for the amount. Understand?"

"Be that as you will," said the Hindu, and he caught the piece of paper and fled toward the thicket where Lena still played with her toy.

"Have I not told you?" he began suavely. "The necklace, less fair than its owner, is yours. But one moment. Will you first do me a favor?"

He lifted the great white turban from his hot forehead and set it on the table before her.

"A simple bit of the skill of my country," he said. "Will you look fixedly into the great ruby that remains mine? And, as you look, will you yield your mind to me, and let me show you a vision? So--even deeper let your eyes penetrate to the heart of the jewel. Deeper and yet deeper."

He made a swift motion or two before her, and her eyes grew fixed.

"What do you see?"

"Myself," she answered.

"Naturally. What else could you ever see? But you are different. You are a thousand times more beautiful. The world lies at your feet. It is a world of adulation. Do you see this?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Now look away. We must not longer see the beautiful picture.

You remember we have business. Mr. Early, your friend, and my friend, will lend you money. But how are you to repay him? You have nothing of your own. It must be your husband who secures you. In the front of the book which you are reading it is written 'Richard Percival'. You will copy this with your utmost care, here on this paper. Ah, for you it is not hard to do this thing. For some it would be hard to persuade them.

You make but a poor copy. That is of indifference. I will return this to Mr. Early. You will await me here."

The August afternoon was closing, and the shadows grew strong here where vines knit the trees into close brotherhood. Lena lay back in her chair and clutched her treasure in a kind of stupor, until, in an incredibly short time Ram Juna again appeared, tucking a sc.r.a.p of yellow paper into some inner pouch as he came. The Buddha smile still played about his lips. He seated himself on the ground and stared unblinkingly at the girl, and she gazed almost as fixedly back, except that once in a while her eyes wandered to the big red stone which still hung in the turban on the table. Ten minutes--fifteen minutes--they sat in silence, as though the Swami enjoyed the experience, then the bronze man rose and moved slowly toward her.

"Awake!" he whispered. "You must never forget that you wrote your husband's name when you had not the right. Ah, in India, our knaves are not also fools."

There was a sudden sharp noise and a cry in the garden behind the hedge; and the Swami leaped into attention with the swift motionlessness of a wild animal. Lena roused herself heavily and blinked about. There was no Swami to be seen. His turban lay on the table, but he himself had disappeared in a twinkling. She heard a rush of feet and voices raised in excitement and then a sharp command. Even while she listened, confused, a blue-coated starred man appeared at the opening in the hedge and over his shoulder she saw Mr. Early's face, startled out of its decorum into bewildered anxiety.

"Beg pardon, miss," said the officer. "Have you seen anything of that n.i.g.g.e.r preacher?"

"The Swami?" asked Lena.

The man nodded.

"He was here a moment ago--at least I think he was. I--I'm not sure. And he seems to have gone away. I don't know where he is." She looked vaguely around.

"Left this in his hurry, I guess," said the man, taking possession of the turban. "He must be hiding somewhere near. With your permission, I will search the house, miss," and he moved off without waiting for the said permission.

"Mrs. Percival," said Mr. Early.

"Beg pardon, Mrs. Percival," the man threw back with an added air of respect. "It is an unpleasant duty, ma'am, but you'll not object, I know." He beckoned sharply to two or three others who stood behind Mr.

Early, and turned toward the open door.

"What does all this mean, Mr. Early?" Lena gasped.

He tumbled as if exhausted into the same easy chair that Ram Juna had occupied a few moments before.

"I am completely staggered," he exclaimed. "The police seem to think they have reason to suspect my guest of being implicated with a gang of counterfeiters. In fact they say that it is his extraordinary cunning of hand that produced the bills that have been appearing everywhere.

And--great heavens!--he used my house as--as--as a fence! My house!

Pardon me, my dear Mrs. Percival, but I am horribly upset. They've found dies and all kinds of queer things in the little room that he kept sacred to his meditations. But of course I can't be suspected of knowing. Why, all my servants can bear testimony to the fact that I know nothing about that room."

"Of course, Mr. Early, no one would think of accusing you."