They stood at the edge of the clearing in a shadow
for about ten minutes, while the German watched catwise for signs of
life.
"It is now," he said, tapping Ranjoor Singh's chest, "that you begin
to be at my mercy. I assure you that the least disobedience on your
part will mean your instant death!"
"Lead on!" growled Ranjoor Singh.
"Do you recognize the place?"
Ranjoor Singh peered through the rain in every direction. At each
corner of the clearing, north, south, east and west, he could dimly
see some sort of ruined arch, and there was another ruin in the center.
"No," he said.
"This is the oldest temple ruin anywhere near Delhi. On some
inscriptions it is called 'Temple of the Four Winds,' but the old
Hindu who lived in it before we bribed him to go away called it the
'Winds of the World.' It is known as 'Winds of the World' on the
books of the German War Office. I think it is really of Greek origin
myself, but I am not an Orientalist, and the text-books all say that
I am wrong."
"Lead on!" said Ranjoor Singh; and the German led them, swinging his
lantern and seeming not at all afraid of being seen now.
"We have taken steps quite often to make the people hereabouts
believe this temple haunted!" he said. "They avoid it at night as if
the devil lived here. If any of them see my lantern, they will not
stop running till they reach the sea!"
They came to a ruin that was such an utter ruin that it looked as if
an earthquake must have shaken a temple to pieces to be disintegrated
by the weather; but Ranjoor Singh noticed that the cart-tracks wound
around the side of it, and when they came to a fairly large teak trap-door,
half hidden by creepers, he was not much surprised.
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