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Choor? Mallum?' His Hindustani was very
limited, and the ruffled and disgusted Kim intended to keep to the
character laid down for him. As he recovered his breath he was
inventing a beautifully plausible tale of his relations to some
scullion, and at the same time keeping a keen eye on and a little
under the Chaplain's left arm-pit. The chance came; he ducked for
the doorway, but a long arm shot out and clutched at his neck,
snapping the amulet-string and closing on the amulet.

'Give it me. O, give it me. Is it lost? Give me the papers.'

The words were in English - the tinny, saw-cut English of the
native-bred, and the Chaplain jumped.

'A scapular,' said he, opening his hand. 'No, some sort of heathen
charm. Why - why, do you speak English? Little boys who steal are
beaten. You know that?'

'I do not - I did not steal.' Kim danced in agony like a terrier at
a lifted stick. 'Oh, give it me. It is my charm. Do not thieve it
from me.'

The Chaplain took no heed, but, going to the tent door, called
aloud. A fattish, clean-shaven man appeared.

'I want your advice, Father Victor,' said Bennett. 'I found this
boy in the dark outside the Mess-tent. Ordinarily, I should have
chastised him and let him go, because I believe him to be a thief.
But it seems he talks English, and he attaches some sort of value
to a charm round his neck. I thought perhaps you might help me.'

Between himself and the Roman Catholic Chaplain of the Irish
contingent lay, as Bennett believed, an unbridgeable gulf, but it
was noticeable that whenever the Church of England dealt with a
human problem she was very likely to call in the Church of Rome.
Bennett's official abhorrence of the Scarlet Woman and all her ways
was only equalled by his private respect for Father Victor.

'A thief talking English, is it? Let's look at his charm. No, it's
not a scapular, Bennett.' He held out his hand.

'But have we any right to open it? A sound whipping -'

'I did not thieve,' protested Kim. 'You have hit me kicks all over
my body. Now give me my charm and I will go away.'

'Not quite so fast. We'll look first,' said Father Victor,
leisurely rolling out poor Kimball O'Hara's 'ne varietur'
parchment, his clearance-certificate, and Kim's baptismal
certificate. On this last O'Hara - with some confused idea that he
was doing wonders for his son - had scrawled scores of times: 'Look
after the boy. Please look after the boy' - signing his name and
regimental number in full.

'Powers of Darkness below!" said Father Victor, passing all over to
Mr Bennett. 'Do you know what these things are?'

'Yes.' said Kim. 'They are mine, and I want to go away.'

'I do not quite understand,' said Mr Bennett. 'He probably brought
them on purpose. It may be a begging trick of some kind.'

'I never saw a beggar less anxious to stay with his company, then.
There's the makings of a gay mystery here. Ye believe in
Providence, Bennett?'

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