Oughtred Couzens was a sincere Christian, happy in his faith and happy in his faith alone, but that he prided himself on his broad-mindedness and his willingness to be convinced, and kept therefore in his soul a little reserve corner inoculated with a subconscious doubt of the very creed which meant his happiness and which he had come to preach.
It was good for the peace of India that the two met one evening in a Punjab village. For when the Hindu saw that the black-frocked missionary was Oughtred Couzens and that the recognition was not mutual, he decided to grant a little breathing-space to the Raj, and to busy himself with the particular destiny of the one man who had planted in his heart the seed of his crimson hatred for the Cross.
He took the Englishman's measure, and then he began to lay his plans, securely and smilingly. He knew that with the help of a little patience he would soon be able to sacrifice a writhing, smoking, bloodstained soul on the altar of Kali, the Great Mother.
Seeing that the weakest spot in his enemy s armor was a dormant northern love for the mysteries of Asia, he knew where to introduce the thin end of the wedge.
