` What proof is there ? ' The Englishman switched at the rose-hedge in the side of the drive . ` Mahbub Ali has given me this proof . ' Kim flipped the wad of folded paper into the air , and it fell in the path beside the man , who put his foot on it as a gardener came round the corner . When the servant passed he picked it up , dropped a rupee -- Kim could hear the clink -- and strode into the house , never turning round . Swiftly Kim took up the money ; but for all his training , he was Irish enough by birth to reckon silver the least part of any game . What he desired was the visible effect of action ; so , instead of slinking away , he lay close in the grass and wormed nearer to the house . He saw -- Indian bungalows are open through and through -- the Englishman return to a small dressing-room , in a comer of the veranda , that was half office , littered with papers and despatch-boxes , and sit down to study Mahbub Ali 's message . His face , by the full ray of the kerosene lamp , changed and darkened , and Kim , used as every beggar must be to watching countenances , took good note . ` Will ! Will , dear ! ' called a woman 's voice . ` You ought to be in the drawing-room . They 'll be here in a minute . ' The man still read intently . ` Will ! ' said the voice , five minutes later . ` He 's come . I can hear the troopers in the drive . ' The man dashed out bareheaded as a big landau with four native troopers behind it halted at the veranda , and a tall , black haired man , erect as an arrow , swung out , preceded by a young officer who laughed pleasantly .
Flat on his belly lay XXXXX , almost touching the high wheels .
Ali Englishman Irish Kim clink countenances despatch-boxes minute rose-hedge wad