FEAR IS DEATH At a sign from the Gray Mahatma all the women except Yasmini left the room.

Yasmini seemed to be in a strange mood mixed of mischief and amused anticipation.
The Mahatma sat down exactly in the middle of the carpet, and his method was unique.

It looked just as if an unseen hand had taken him by the hair and lowered him gradually, for he crossed his legs and dropped to the floor as evenly and slowly as one of those freight elevators that disappear beneath the city side-walks.
He seemed to attach a great deal of importance to his exact position and glanced repeatedly at the walls as if to make sure that he was not sitting an inch or two too far to the right or left; however, he had gauged his measurements exactly at the first attempt and did not move, once he was seated.
"You two _sahibs_," he began, with a slight emphasis on the word _sahib_, as if he wished to call attention to the fact that he was according us due courtesy, "you two honorable gentlemen," he continued, as if mere courtesy perhaps were not enough, "have been chosen unknown to yourselves.

For there is but one Chooser, whose choice is never known until the hour comes.

For the chosen there is no road back again.