The big Oriental did not move.
"Reflect, Sahib," he went on. "We are entering an immense peril.
The thing that will be hunting us has innumerable agencies
everywhere in its service. If it shall discover that we have
falsified its symbols, it will search the earth for us. And what
are we, Sahib, against this thing? It does not die, nor wax old,
nor grow weary."
"The lad knows nothing," replied my uncle, "and old Andrew will
keep silent."
"Without trouble, Sahib," the creature continued, "I can put the
young one beyond all knowledge and the old one beyond all speech.
Is it permitted?"
My uncle got up from the fireplace, for he had finished with his
work.
"No," he said, "let there be an end of it."
He turned about, and under the glimmer of the candle I could see
that the man had changed; his big pale face was grim with some
determined purpose, and there was about him the courage and the
authority of one who, after long wavering, at last hazards a
desperate venture. He broke the glass box and put the Buddha
into his pocket.
"It is good silver," he said, "and it has served its purpose."
The Oriental got softly onto his feet like a great toy of cotton
wood.
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