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An orphaned street-urchin follows a holy man across India during the time of the British Raj, eventually gaining an education and becoming a recruit to the Great Game of espionage against the Russians.

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and those-all things. And so it is with any other man of us. We talk sometimes about turquoises and sometimes about tarkeean , but always with that little stop in the words. It is verree easy. First, ‘Son of the Charm,’ if you are in a tight place. Perhaps that may help you⁠—perhaps not. Then what I have told you about the tarkeean , if you want to transact offeecial business with a strange man. Of course, at present, you have no offeecial business. You are⁠—ah ha!⁠—supernumerary on probation. Quite unique specimen. If you were Asiatic of birth you might be employed right off; but this half-year of leave is to make you de-Englishized, you see? The lama he expects you, because I have demi-offeecially informed him you have passed all your examinations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You are on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help Sons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say goodbye, my dear fellow, and I hope you⁠—ah⁠—will come out topside all raight.”

Hurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance of Lucknow station and⁠—was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged himself all over. The nickel-plated revolver he could feel in the bosom of his sad-coloured robe, the amulet was on his neck; begging-gourd, rosary, and ghost-dagger ( Mr. Lurgan had forgotten nothing) were all to hand, with medicine, paintbox, and compass, and in a worn old purse-belt embroidered with porcupine-quill patterns lay a month’s pay. Kings could be no richer. He bought sweetmeats in a leaf-cup from a Hindu trader, and ate them with glad rapture till a policeman ordered him off the steps.

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