of Horse Guards flanking the coffin and all the gentry of the India Office rolling behind in comfortable carriages.
"But—what—"
He stammered. His voice seemed dead and smothered. He began to shake all over, feverishly; and again the whirring of wings rushed upon him, and again, a minute, an hour, a day, a week, an eternity later, he became conscious of the swami's low, sibilant voice:
"He wanted to travel. Nor could I dissuade him, and I—I loved him. Thus I said to him: 'You yourself cannot leave the sacred soil of India. It would bring pollution unthinkable on yourself, on Hindustan, on the blessed gods themselves. But I am a master of white magic. I shall take your astral body from the envelope of your living body, and I shall breathe a spell upon it so that it shall be even as your living body, feeling, hearing, seeing, touching. Your astral self shall go to the land of the mlechhas—the land of the infidels—while your body, rigid as in death, shall await its return.'"
"And—" whispered Thorneycroft.
"So it was done. But I gave him warning that the spell would last only a certain number of days.
