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I Sell Diamonds
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was
not yet ready. He owed it to the English merchant, he said, and to the
lady of the fine house on the hill, to make the most of himself. This
time he disappeared for a long while behind the curtain, and when he
came forth he was transformed.
Instead
of the creased nondescript piece of material which had shrouded half
his person and left the other half bare, a freshly laundered silk
sarong of tartan design now covered his nether limbs, down to the
ankles. A khaki-coloured tunic with upstanding starched military collar
remained unbuttoned to disclose a clean Aertex vest, through whose
meshes the swarthy skin peeped as through many windows. Six Siamese
silver tikals, the buttons of this outfit, represented probably the
total wealth of Mirzah's house, but he had bestowed the greatest care
of all on a towering brilliant-coloured turban which accentuated
unduly the grievous hollows of his cheeks. He carried a massive ebony
stick, whether for protection or support I did not discover.
As
we stood ready to go, a pleasant feminine voice spoke from the inmost
recesses of the house. Mirzah's face lit up with a smile and he
explained that one of his wives was wishing us luck. The prayers of a
woman with child, he added, count twofold. In this delicate manner he
conveyed to me that he was anticipating the joys of fatherhood.
When
he had walked about a quarter of a mile we came to a good open road
which led by an easy gradient up a hill, from which a fair view could
be had over the near countryside. Upon the very crest of this hill
stood a noble
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