Kim Page #6

in your mind's eye.

One glance is enough for me.

Ready?

How many stones did you see

upon the tray?

That's easy. 26, perhaps 27.

- Tell him the correct number, Wanna.

- Thirty-four, sahib.

Look well this time, O'Hara.

The brown-red stones,

the garnets, note their number.

Now, take your time.

And those milk-colored pearls...

fix with your memory,

the number of blue turquoise.

And see? There are only five cat's-eyes.

Now, that should be easy to remember.

- I've got it this time.

- But make sure.

Check and recheck.

Shall I cover them?

All right.

There are eight garnets...

seven pearls...

thirteen blue stones...

and the five cat's-eyes.

- There are eight garnets...

- That's what I said.

...seven pearls...

thirteen turquoise...

- and six cat's-eyes.

- Correct, Wanna.

- But you said five.

- I also said check...

and recheck.

You should believe only your eyes...

and not the voices of others.

This is a child's game, Mr. Lurgan.

It is part of a Great Game, Mr. O'Hara.

Bring Mr. O'Hara an urn of water.

- I'm not thirsty.

- I said bring Mr. O'Hara an urn of water.

There will be no more customers tonight.

Happy dreams, sahib.

Here, O'Hara. Catch!

Look down at the urn.

It will come together again...

piece by piece.

First the big piece shall join itself

to the two others...

on the right...

and on the left.

On the right...

and on the left.

Look.

It's coming into shape.

Look.

It's coming into shape.

Coming into shape.

No.

It's smashed!

Yes, it is smashed.

Many would have seen it grow

completely together again.

Is it magic?

Yes, of a sort.

It's called hypnotism.

Tell me, did you not see it

start to reshape?

For a while.

Then what did you do?

I mean, how did you think?

I knew it was broken,

and I kept telling myself so.

And it was broken.

Has anyone ever done

this sort of magic to you before?

No.

Then never let them do it again.

Remember...

when anyone asks you

to look closely at anything...

and uses his eyes and his hands as I did...

don't do it.

I'm pleased with you, Mr. O'Hara.

Good night.

Now...

name their numbers and their types.

Two Mohammedans, four sadhus,

one Bengali, three Afghans...

Fourteen old flintlocks, six scythes...

thirteen double-edged swords,

five double-barreled pistols...

Well?

Oh, about 600.

More than half, say, 400 men...

and the rest women and a few children.

Easy, Wanna. In three weeks from today,

I have to scrub it off.

You can tell your companions

at St. Xavier...

that the sun was strong.

That will do.

I wish I could journey with you to Umballa

and meet your holy man.

That which is between my lama and me

is for no other.

- I don't see anything I really like.

- Have you anything else to show us?

Darling, you're very sweet,

but there's absolutely nothing here I want.

We have now reached

the bottom of the well.

Pardon, sahib. I have heard of a new pen

that carries its own ink. Have you one?

I don't see anything I like. Come along.

It would be of great use to learned man

of medicine such as myself.

There are pictures of the pen

in English magazines.

Without dipping in the ink, it writes like...

Look over my shoulder.

What do you see?

Only the afternoon shadows.

Since leaving the village of Simla...

I have been followed.

Simla is far to the north.

In the line of duty,

I was posing as a cab driver.

And I took from one of my passengers

a very valuable communication...

which must reach

Colonel Creighton urgently.

To throw those who follow me

off the scent, I have traveled far...

several times changed my appearance.

But still they follow me.

Well, you haven't lost any weight over it.

No? Continual fear fattens me.

Good day, Lurgan.

I've come for my jade set. Is it ready yet?

It is indeed, sir.

Wanna!

Bring Mr. Fairlee's jade.

This is the type of thing

I was thinking about.

Yes, of course. One moment, Doctor.

- Thank you very much, Mr. Fairlee.

- Good day.

Give alms for a holy man.

Spare an anna for my lama,

O protector of the poor.

Begone.

If you give to one beggar,

there'll be 50 here within the hour.

He can curse as well as bless.

And I am a most fearful man, sahib.

Doctor, let me introduce my pupil...

who's just completed

his first course with me.

O'Hara is the name.

It is many years since I also was a pupil.

I congratulate you

on most efficient performance.

Except for one little thing,

you had my legs pulled.

The chela's waist string is

always of horsehair. Never of cotton.

I shall remember that.

And you are wearing Hindu beads,

not Buddhist.

Anything else?

The stain on your face

should go higher into the hairline.

I am going to Umballa tonight.

But in three weeks,

I shall go back to school again in Lucknow.

Perhaps by that time the learned doctor...

will be once more driving his cab

in that fair city.

That is jolly dash good, Master O'Hara.

Umballa?

O'Hara's going there to meet his holy man.

He has permission to spend

the rest of his vacation with him.

And could carry a message safely.

I think this will cover the cost

of the magic pen, sahib.

Creighton sahib will be

at Umballa station tomorrow night...

when the train from the north arrives.

When you give him the message,

tell him...

as soon as I can disengage myself

from those who follow me...

I shall be at my usual place

to await his instruction.

Do you follow?

I wish you all a jolly good afternoon.

Let us see how well you have learned.

Come to the window.

Tell me what you see.

The fat one pauses.

He uses a brass tray as a mirror...

to watch a tall man with a rounded beard

and a tall turban of a Sikh.

This man leans against a wall,

eating an orange.

The fat one moves off briskly,

followed by the man with the orange.

The man with the orange pauses,

speaks quickly to two men.

The other men, describe them.

Well, the small one, 5'4", I would say,

turban torn on the left side...

wears only one earring.

The big man has a scar

on the left side of his face...

running from the corner of his eye

to below the cheekbone.

The men part.

Very good.

Remember the faces of those men.

In years to come,

when you play the Great Game...

it might stand you in good stead.

Here's the message.

Third-class ticket, Umballa.

My mother is dead. My father is dead.

An anna, O protector of the poor.

Blessed is the father of two sturdy sons.

But for their strong legs

and their stronger arms...

we would have missed the train.

Do you journey far, farmer?

To Umballa.

O protector of the poor, a half an anna.

I have traveled a long way.

A half an anna, O sahib, please.

Keep your dirty hands off me!

Now go along with your business.

Without your help, sahib,

I shall not go very far.

- May I live to spend it, O protector...

- Now, get along with you.

Stop that boy! He stole my watch!

Stop him!

All right, stand him on his feet.

Bring him into the stationmaster's office.

Keep the crowd back.

I'll attend to this little thief myself.

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