I was simply in a blue funk, and rather angry as well at the absurdity of what we were doing.
The Gray Mahatma turned and shut the gate behind me, taking no notice at all of the black brute that crouched in the other corner, grumbling and moaning rather than growling.
Have you ever seen a panther spit and spring when a keeper shoved it out of the way with the cleaning rake?
There is no beast in the world with whom it is more dangerous to play tricks.

Yet in that dark corner, with the lantern held purposely so that it should not dazzle the panther's eyes, the Gray Mahatma stirred the beast with his toe and drove him away as carelessly and incautiously as you might shove your favorite dog aside! The panther crowded itself against the side of the cage and slunk away behind us--to the front of the cage that is to say, close by the padlocked gate--where he crouched again and moaned.
The dark, rear end of the cage was all masonry and formed part of the building behind it.

In the right-hand corner, almost invisible from outside, was a narrow door of thick teak that opened very readily when the Mahatma fumbled with it although I saw no lock, hasp or keyhole on the side toward us.

We followed him through into a stone vault.
"And now there is need to be careful," he said, his voice booming and echoing along unseen corridors.

"For though those here, who can harm you if they will, are without evil intention, nevertheless injury begets desire to injure.