He knew those curious bastard English advertisements at the backs of native newspapers. St. Xavier’s boys sometimes brought them in by stealth to snigger over among their mates; for the language of the grateful patient recounting his symptoms is most simple and revealing. The Oorya, not unanxious to play off one parasite against the other, slunk away towards the dovecote.
“Yes,” said Kim, with measured scorn. “Their stock-in-trade is a little coloured water and a very great shamelessness. Their prey are broken-down kings and overfed Bengalis. Their profit is in children—who are not born.”
The old lady chuckled. “Do not be envious. Charms are better, eh? I never gainsaid it. See that thy Holy One writes me a good amulet by the morning.”
“None but the ignorant deny”—a thick, heavy voice boomed through the darkness, as a figure came to rest squatting—“None but the ignorant deny the value of charms. None but the ignorant deny the value of medicines.”