The third man was dressed like the other two in white
duck, but he wore his clothes not as they did. He was tall and
straight. One could easily enough imagine him dressed better.
His quick, intelligent gray eyes swept over the whole room while he
took two steps, and at once picked out Yasmini as the mistress of the
place; but he waited to bow to her until the first man pointed her
out. Then it seemed to Ranjoor Singh--who was watching as minutely as
Yasmini in turn watched him--that, when he bowed, this tall,
confident-looking individual almost clicked his heels together, but
remembered not to do so just in time. The eyes of the East miss no
small details. Yasmini, letting her jeweled ankles jingle again,
chuckled to Ranjoor Singh.
"And they say he comes from Europe selling goods," she whispered.
"The fat man who is frightened claims to be a customer for bales of
blankets. Since when has the customer been humble while the seller
calls the tune? Look!"
The second arrival and the third sat down together as she spoke; and
while the second sat like a merchant, nursing fat hands on a
consequential paunch, the third sat straight-backed, kicking a little
sidewise with his left leg. Ranjoor Singh saw, too, that he kept his
heels a little more than a spur's length off from the divan's drapery.
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