“Who is that?” cried Father Brown, stepping back with a hissing intake of his breath.
“Oh, it is only that Hindoo humbug,” growled Harris; “but I don’t know what the deuce he’s doing here.”
“It looks like hypnotism,” said Flambeau, biting his black moustache.
“Why are you unmedical fellows always talking bosh about hypnotism?” cried the doctor. “It looks a deal more like burglary.”
“Well, we will speak to it, at any rate,” said Flambeau, who was always for action. One long stride took him to the place where the Indian stood. Bowing from his great height, which overtopped even the Oriental’s, he said with placid impudence:
“Good evening, sir. Do you want anything?”
Quite slowly, like a great ship turning into a harbour, the great yellow face turned, and looked at last over its white s
