If the stranger were the first white man to enter, this motionless grim janitor gave no sign.

On the earthen floor lay a small circle of white lime.

Heywood placed his right foot inside it.
"We are all in-the-circle men." "Pass," said the guard.
Out from shadow glided a tall native with a halberd, who opened a door in the far corner.
In the second room, dim as the first, burned the same smoky orange light on the same table.

But here a twisted cripple, his nose long and pendulous with elephantiasis, presided over three cups of tea set in a row.

Heywood lifted the central cup, and drank.
"Will you bite the clouds ?" asked the second guard, in a soft and husky bass.