Om: The Secret of Ahbor Valley. Talbot Mundy

of the page, leaving very wide margins, and had been done with a fine steel pen.

      "The stone that was brought from Tilgaun by Tin Lal and was offered for sale by him to Chutter Chand is one that no honorable man would care to keep from its real owners. There is merit in a good deed and the reward of him who does justly without thought of reward is tenfold. There are secrets not safe to be pried into. There is light too bright to look into. There is truth more true than can be told. If you will change the color of the sash on the chuprassi at the front door, one shall present himself to you to whom you may return the stone with absolute assurance that it will reach its real owners. Honesty and happiness are one. The truth comes not to him who is inquisitive, but to him who does what is right and leaves the result to Destiny."

      Ommony examined the writing minutely, sniffed the paper, held it to the light, then picked up the tube and examined that.

      "Who brought it?" he asked.

      "I don't know. It was handed to the chuprassi by a native he says he thinks was disguised."

      "Did you try changing the chuprassi's sash?"

      "Naturally. A deaf and dumb man came. He looked like a Tibetan. He approached the chuprassi and touched his sash, so the chuprassi brought him up to me. He was unquestionably deaf and dumb—stone-deaf, and half of his tongue was missing. The drums of his ears had been bored through—when he was a baby probably. I showed him the stone and he tried to take it from me. I had to have him forcibly ejected from the office; and of course I had him followed, but he disappeared utterly, after wandering aimlessly all over Delhi until nearly midnight. I have had a look-out kept, but he seems to have vanished without trace."

      "Have you drawn any conclusions?"

      McGregor smiled. "I never draw them before it's safe to say they're proved. But a young woman almost certainly wrote that letter; Miss Sanburn's adopted daughter—"

      "Who I don't believe exists," said Ommony.

      "—is reported by 888, who has hitherto always been reliable, to have disappeared. She disappeared, if she ever did exist, from Tilgaun; the stone unquestionably came from Tilgaun, and it seems to have been in Miss Sanburn's possession, in the mission. Ergo—just as a flying hypothesis,—Miss Sanburn's adopted daughter may have written that letter. If so, she's in Delhi, because the ink on that paper had not been dry more than an hour or two when it reached me."

      "Have you searched the hotels?"

      "Of course. And the trains are being watched."

      "I'm curious to meet Hannah Sanburn's adopted daughter!" said Ommony dryly. "I've known Hannah ever since she came to India more than twenty years ago. I've been co-trustee ever since Marmaduke died, and I don't believe Hannah Sanburn has kept a single secret from me. In fact, it has been the other way; she has passed most of her difficult personal problems along to me for solution. I've a dozen files full of her letters, of which I dare say five percent are purely personal. I think I know all her private business. As recently as last year, when we met here in Delhi,—well—never mind; but if she had an adopted daughter, or an entanglement of any kind, I think I'd know it."

      "Women are damned deep," McGregor answered. "Well; we've not much to go on. I'll entrust that stone to you; if you're still willing to try to get into the Ahbor country, I'll do everything I can to assist. You've a fair excuse for trying; and you're a bachelor. Dammit, if I were, I'd go with you! Of course, you understand, if the State Department learns of it you'll be rounded up and brought back. Do you realize the other difficulties? Sven Hedin is said to have made the last attempt to get through from the North. He failed. In the last hundred years about a dozen Europeans have had a crack at it. Several died, and one got through—unless Terry and your sister did, and if so, they almost certainly died. When Younghusband went to Lhassa he considered sending one regiment back by way of the Ahbor Valley but countermanded the order when he realized that a force of fifty thousand men wouldn't stand a chance of getting through. From time to time the government has sent six Goorkha spies into the country. None ever came back. It's almost a certainty that the River Tsangpo of Tibet flows through the valley and becomes the Brahmaputra lower down, but nobody has proved it; nor has any one explained why the Tsangpo contains more water than the Brahmaputra. Old Kinthup, the pundit on the Indian Survey Staff, traced the Tsangpo down as far as the waterfall where it plunges into the Ahbor Valley, and he threw a hundred marked logs into the river, which were watched for lower down; but none of the logs appeared at the lower end, and not even Kinthup managed to get into the valley. The strangest part about it is, that the Northern Ahbors come down frequently to the Southern Ahbor country to trade, and they even intermarry with the Southern Ahbors. But they never say a word about their valley. The rajah of Tilgaun—the uncle of the present man —caught two and put them to torture, but they died silent. And another strange thing is, that nobody knows how the Northern Ahbors get into and out of their country. The river is a lot too swift for boats. The forest seems impenetrable. The cliffs are unclimbable. There was an attempt made last year to explore by airplane, but the attempt failed; there's a ninety-mile wind half the time, and some of the passes to the south are sixteen or seventeen thousand feet in the air to begin with. I'm told carburetors won't work, and they can't carry enough fuel.—So, if you're determined to make the attempt, slip away secretly, and don't leave your courage behind! If it weren't that you've a right to visit Tilgaun I should say you'd have no chance, but you might make it, if you're awfully discreet and start from the Tilgaun Mission. If it's ever found out that I encouraged you—"

      "You've been reeling off discouragement for fifteen minutes!"

      "Yes, but if it's known I knew—"

      "You needn't worry. What made you say you think this stone will help me to trace the Terrys?"

      "Nothing definite, except that it gives me an excuse for sending you to Tilgaun more or less officially. I employ you to investigate the mystery connected with that stone. As far as Tilgaun you're responsible to me. If you decide to go on from there, you'll have to throw me over—disobey orders. You understand, I order you to come straight back here from Tilgaun. If you disobey, you do it off your own bat, without my official knowledge. And I'm afraid, old thing, you'll have to pay your own expenses."

      Ommony nodded.

      "See Chutter Chand," said McGregor, "and dine with me tonight— not at the club—that 'ud start all sorts of rumors flying—say at Mrs. Cornock-Campbell's—her husband's away, but that doesn't matter. She's the only woman I ever dared tell secrets to. Leave it to me to contrive the invitation—how'll that do?"

      "Mrs. Cornock-Campbell is a better man than you or me. Nine o'clock. I'll be there," said Ommony, noticing a certain slyness in McGregor's smile. He bridled at it. "Still laughing about the 'Masters,' Mac?"

      "No, no. I'd forgotten them. Not that they exist—but never mind."

      "What then?"

      "I'll tell you after dinner, or rather some one else will. I wonder whether you'll laugh too—or wince? Trot along and have your talk with Chutter Chand."

      * Uniformed doorkeeper

      Chapter III

       What is Fear?"

       Table of Contents

      Deciphered from a Palm-Leaf Manuscript Discovered in a Cave in Hindustan.

      Those who are acquainted with the day and night know that the Day of Brahma is a thousand revolutions of the Yugas, and that the Night extendeth for a thousand more. Now the Maha-yuga consisteth of four parts, of which the last, being called the Kali-Yuga, is the least, having but four-hundred-and-thirty-two thousand years. The length of a Maya-yuga is four-million-and -three-hundred twenty thousand years; that is, one thousandth part of a Day of Brahma. And man was in the beginning, although not as he is now, nor as he will be...(Here the palm leaf is broken and illegible)...There were races in the world, whose wisemen knew all the seven principles, so that they understood matter in all