inventing a beautifully plausible tale of his relations to some
scullion, and at the same time keeping a keen eye on and a little under
the Chaplain's left arm-pit. The chance came; he ducked for the
doorway, but a long arm shot out and clutched at his neck, snapping the
amulet-string and closing on the amulet.

'Give it me. O, give it me. Is it lost? Give me the papers.'

The words were in English--the tinny, saw-cut English of the
native-bred, and the Chaplain jumped.

'A scapular,' said he, opening his hand. 'No, some sort of heathen
charm. Why--why, do you speak English? Little boys who steal are
beaten. You know that?'

'I do not--I did not steal.' Kim danced in agony like a terrier at a
lifted stick. 'Oh, give it me. It is my charm. Do not thieve it from
me.'

The Chaplain took no heed, but, going to the tent door, called aloud.
A fattish, clean-shaven man appeared.

'I want your advice, Father Victor,' said Bennett. 'I found this boy
in the dark outside the Mess-tent. Ordinarily, I should have chastised
him and let him go, because I believe him to be a thief. But it seems
he talks English, and he attaches some sort of value to a charm round
his neck. I thought perhaps you might help me.'

Between himself and the Roman Catholic Chaplain of the Irish contingent
lay, as Bennett believed, an unbridgeable gulf, but it was noticeable
that whenever the Church of England dealt with a human problem she was
very likely to call in the Church of Rome. Bennett's official
abhorrence of the Scarlet Woman and all her ways was only equalled by
his private respect for Father Victor.

'A thief talking English, is it? Let's look at his charm. No, it's
not a scapular, Bennett.' He held out his hand.

'But have we any right to open it? A sound whipping--'

'I did not thieve,' protested Kim. 'You have hit me kicks all over my
body. Now give me my charm and I will go away.'

'Not quite so fast. We'll look first,' said Father Victor, leisurely
rolling out poor Kimball O'Hara's 'ne varietur' parchment, his
clearance-certificate, and Kim's baptismal certificate. On this last
O'Hara--with some confused idea that he was doing wonders for his
son--had scrawled scores of times: 'Look after the boy. Please look
after the boy'--signing his name and regimental number in full.

'Powers of Darkness below!' said Father Victor, passing all over to Mr
Bennett. 'Do you know what these things are?'

'Yes.' sa