He is so holy that his face must not be seen." Shere Ali laughed.
"He told you that himself, I suppose," he said.
"Huzoor, it is well known," said the old man.

"He sits by the road all day until the darkness comes--" "Yes," said Shere Ali, bethinking him of the recommendations in his letter, "until the darkness comes--and then ?" "Then he goes away into the city and no one sees him until the morning"; and the old man passed on.
Shere Ali chuckled and rode by the hooded man.

His curiosity increased.
It was quite likely that the blanket hid a Mohammedan Pathan from beyond the hills.

To come down into the plains and mulct the pious Hindu by some such ingenious practice would appeal to the Pathan's sense of humour almost as much as to his pocket.

Shere Ali drew the letter from his pocket, and in the waning light read it through again.