He had no purse, nor any way of hiding money on his person.
He opened his mouth wide and made a noise exactly like a bronze bell.
Some sort of priest came running in answer to the summons and showed no surprise when given peremptory orders in a language of which I did not understand one word.
Within two minutes the priest was back again bearing a tray that was simply heaped with money, as if he had used the thing for a scoop to get the stuff out of a treasure chest.

There was all kinds--gold, silver, paper, copper, nickel--as if those strange people simply threw into a chest all that they received exactly as they received it.
King took a hundred-rupee note from the tray, and the Gray Mahatma waved the rest aside.

The priest departed, and a moment later I heard the clash and chink of money falling on money; by the sound it fell quite a distance, as if the treasure chest were an open cellar.
"Now," said the Gray Mahatma, placing a hand on the shoulders of each of us.

"Go, and forget.

It is not yet time to teach the world our sciences.
India is not yet ripe for freedom.