"Am I to understand that you claim to belong to the
Seventh Kama?"
"Certainly," replied Brinn in a toneless voice.
The Hindu drew his cuff back from a slender yellow wrist,
revealing a curious mark which appeared to be branded upon the
flesh. It was in the form of a torch or flambeau surmounted by a
tongue of flame. He raised his black brows, smiling
significantly.
Nicol Brinn stood up, removing his tight dinner jacket. Then,
rolling back his sleeve from a lean, sinuous forearm, he extended
the powerful member, having his fist tightly clenched.
Upon the inside of his arm, just above the elbow, an identical
mark had been branded!
The Hindu stood up and saluted Nicol Brinn in a peculiar manner.
That is to say, he touched the second finger of his right hand
with the tip of his tongue, and then laid the finger upon his
forehead, at the same time bowing deeply.
Nicol Brinn repeated the salutation, and quietly put his coat on.
"We greet you," said the Hindu. "I am Rama Dass of the Bengal
Lodge. Have you Hindustani?"
"No."
"Where were you initiated?"
"At Moon Ali Lane."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Hindu. "I see it all. In Bombay?"
"In Bombay."
"When, and by whom, may I ask?"
"By Ruhmani, November 23, 1913."
"Strange," murmured Rama Dass. "Brother Ruhmani died in that
year; which accounts for our having lost touch with you. What is
your grade?"
"The fifth.
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