"So Pala will have to be changed-is that your conclusion?"

Mr. Bahu nodded. "Radically."

"Root and branch," said the Rani with a prophet's sadistic

gusto.

"And for two cogent reasons," Mr. Bahu went on. "First, because it simply isn't possible for Pala to go on being different from the rest of the world. And, second, because it isn't right that it should be different."

"Not right for people to be free and happy?"

Once again the Rani said something inspirational about false happiness and the wrong kind of freedom.

Mr. Bahu deferentially acknowledged her interruption, then turned back to Will. .,,

"Not right," he insisted. "Flaunting your blessedness in the face of so much misery-it's sheer hubris, it's a deliberate affront to the rest of humanity. It's even a kind of affront to God."

"God," the Rani murmured voluptuously, "God . . ." Then, reopening her eyes, "These people in Pala," she added, "they don't believe in God. They only believe in Hypnotism and Pantheism and Free Love." She emphasized the words with indignant disgust.

"So now," said Will, "you're proposing to make them miserable in the hope that this will restore their faith in God. Well, that's one way of producing a conversion. Maybe it'll work. And maybe the end will justify the means." He shrugged his shoulders. "But I do see," he added, "that, good or bad, and regardless of what the Palanese may feel about it, this thing is going to happen. One doesn't have to be much of a prophet to foretell that Murugan is going to succeed. He's riding the wave of the future. And the wave of the future is undoubtedly a wave of crude petroleum. Talking of crudity and petroleum," he added, turning to the Rani, "I understand that you're acquainted with my old friend, Joe Aldehyde." "You know Lord Aldehyde?" "Well."

"So that's why my Little Voice was so insistent!" Closing her eyes again, she smiled to herself and slowly nodded her head. "Now I Understand." Then, in another tone, "How is that dear man?" she asked.

"Still characteristically himself," Will assured her. "And what a rare self! L'homme au cerf-volant-that's what I call him."

"The man with the kite?" Will was puzzled. "He does his work down here," she explained; "but he holds a string in his hand, and at the other end of the string is a kite, and the kite is forever trying to go higher, higher, Higher. Even while he's at work, he feels the constant Pull from Above, feels the Spirit tugging insistently at the flesh. Think of it! A man of affairs, a great Captain of Industry-and yet, for him, the only thing that Really Matters is the Immortality of the Soul."

Light dawned. The woman had been talking about Joe Alde-hyde's addiction to spiritualism. He thought of those weekly seances with Mrs. Harbottle, the automatist; with Mrs. Pym, whose control was a Kiowa Indian called Bawbo; with Miss Tuke and her floating trumpet out of which a squeaky whisper uttered oracular words that were taken down in shorthand by Joe's private secretary: "Buy Australian cement; don't be alarmed by the fall in Breakfast Foods; unload forty percent of your rubber shares and invest the money in IBM and Westinghouse ..."

"Did he ever tell you," Will asked, "about that departed stockbroker who always knew what the market was going to do next week?"

"Sidhis," said the Rani indulgently. "Just sidhis. What else can you expect? After all, he's only a Beginner. And in this present life business is his karma. He was predestined to do what he's done, what he's doing, what he's going to do. And what he's going to do," she added impressively and paused in a listening pose, her finger lifted, her head cocked, "what he's going to do-that's what my Little Voice is saying-includes some great and wonderful things here in Pala."

What a spiritual way of saying, This is what I want to happen! Not as I will but as God wills-and by a happy coincidence God's will and mine are always identical. Will chuckled inwardly, but kept the straightest of faces.

"Does your Little Voice say anything about Southeast Asia Petroleum?" he asked.

The Rani listened again, then nodded. "Distinctly."

"But Colonel Dipa, I gather, doesn't say anything but 'Standard of California.' Incidentally," Will went on, "why does Pala have to worry about the Colonel's taste in oil companies?"

"My government," said Mr. Bahu sonorously, "is thinking in terms of a Five-Year Plan for Interisland Economic Co-ordina tion and Co-operation."

"Does Interisland Co-ordination and Co-operation mean that Standard has to be granted a monopoly?"

"Only if Standard's terms were more advantageous than those of its competitors."

"In other words," said the Rani, "only if there's nobody who will pay us more."

"Before you came," Will told her, "I was discussing this subject with Murugan. Southeast Asia Petroleum, I said, will give Pala whatever Standard gives Rendang plus a little more."

"Fifteen percent more?"

"Let's say ten."

"Make it twelve and a half."

Will looked at her admiringly. For someone who had taken the Fourth Initiation she was doing pretty well.

"Joe Aldehyde will scream with agony," he said. "But in the end, I feel certain, you'll get your twelve and a half."

"It would certainly be a most attractive proposition," said Mr. Bahu.

"The only trouble is that the Palanese government won't accept it."

"The Palanese government," said the Rani, "will soon be changing its policy."

"You think so?"

"I KNOW it," the Rani answered in a tone that made it quite clear that the information had come straight from the Master's mouth.

"When the change of policy comes, would it help," Will asked, "if Colonel Dipa were to put in a good word for Southeast Asia Petroleum?"

"Undoubtedly."

Will turned to Mr. Bahu. "And would you be prepared, Mr. Ambassador, to put in a good word with Colonel Dipa?"

In polysyllables, as though he were addressing a plenary session of some international organization, Mr. Bahu hedged diplomatically. On the one hand, yes; but on the other hand, no. From one point of view, white; but from a different angle, distinctly black.

Will listened in polite silence. Behind the mask of Savonarola, behind the aristocratic monocle, behind the ambassadorial verbiage he could see and hear the Levantine broker in quest of his commission, the petty official cadging for a gratuity. And for her enthusiastic sponsorship of Southeast Asia Petroleum, how much had the royal initiate been promised? Something, he was prepared to bet, pretty substantial. Not for herself, of course, no no! For the Crusade of the Spirit, needless to say, for the greater glory of Koot Hoomi.

Mr. Bahu had reached the peroration of his speech to the international organization. "It must therefore be understood," he was saying, "that any positive action on my part must remain contingent upon circumstances as, when, and if these circumstances arise. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Will assured him. "And now," he went on with deliberately indecent frankness, "let me explain my position in this matter. All I'm interested in is money. Two thousand pounds without having to do a hand's turn of work. A year of freedom just for helping Joe Aldehyde to get his hands on Pala."

"Lord Aldehyde," said the Rani, "is remarkably generous."

"Remarkably," Will agreed, "considering how little I can do in this matter. Needless to say, he'd be still more generous to anyone who could be of greater help."

There was a long silence. In the distance a mynah bird was calling monotonously for attention. Attention to avarice, attention to hypocrisy, attention to vulgar cynicism . . . There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Will called out and, turning to Mr. Bahu, "Let's continue this conversation some other time," he said.