He remembered how lightly Shere Ali had been wont to speak of the superstitions of the Mohammedans and in what contempt he held the Mullahs of his country.

Not in those days would he have celebrated his pilgrimage to the shrine of Khwajah Mueeyinudin Chisti by a public offering of ghee.
Linforth looked back upon the Indrakotis struggling and scrambling and burning themselves on the steps about the vast caldrons, and the crowd waiting and clamouring below.

It was a scene grotesque enough in all conscience, but Linforth was never further from smiling than at this moment.

A strong intuition made him grave.
"Does this mark Shere Ali's return to the ways of his fathers ?" he asked himself.

"Is this his renunciation of the White People ?" He moved forward slowly towards the inner archway, and the Pathan at his side gave a new turn to his thoughts.
"Sir, that will be talked of for many months," the Pathan said.