man into the unconscious body."

The Oriental hesitated; then he went on.

"The thing seemed to us fantastic. But our text treating the life of
the Dalai Lama admits of no doubt upon one point--'no measure presenting
itself in extremity can be withheld.' He was in clear extremity and this
measure, even though of foreign origin, had presented itself, and we
felt after a brief reflection that we were bound to permit it."

He added.

"The result was a miracle to us. In a short time the Dalai Lama had
recovered. But in the meantime Major Carstair had gone on into the Gobi
seeking the fantastic treasure."

The girl turned toward the man, a wide-eyed, eager, lighted face.

"Do you realize," she said, "the sort of treasure that my father
sacrificed his life to search for?"

The Oriental spoke slowly.

"It was to destroy a Kingdom," he said.

"To destroy the Kingdom of Pain!" She replied, "My father was seeking
an anesthetic more powerful than the derivatives of domestic opium. He
searched the world for it. In the little, wild desert flower lay, he
thought, the essence of this treasure. And he would seek it at any cost.
Fortune was nothing; life was nothing. Is it any wonder that you could
not stop him? A flaming sword moving at the entrance to the Gobi could
not have barred him out!"

The big Oriental made a vague gesture as of one removing something
clinging to his face.

"Wherefore this blindness?" he said.

The girl had turned away in an effort to control the emotion that
possessed her. But the task was greater than her strength; when she
came back to the table tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her
face. Emotion seemed now to overcome her.

"If my father were only here," her voice was broken, "if he were only
here!"

The big Oriental moved his whole body, as by one motion, toward her. The
house was very still; there was only the faint crackling of the logs on
the fire.

"We had a fear," he said. "It remains!"

The girl went over and stood before the fire, her foot on the brass
fender, her fingers linked behind her back. For sometime she was silent.
Finally she spoke, without turning her head, in a low voice.

"You know Lord Eckhart?"

A strange expression passed over the Oriental's face.

"Yes, when Lhassa was entered, the Head moved north to our monastery on
the edge of the Gobi--the English sovereignty extends to the Kahn line.
Lord Eckhart was the political agent of the English gove