The box took no heed . Kim wrenched at the tin trumpet and something lifted with a click . He had evidently raised a lid . If there were a devil inside , now was its time , for -- he sniffed -- thus did the sewing-machines of the bazar smell . He would clean that shaitan . He slipped off his jacket , and plunged it into the box 's mouth . Something long and round bent under the pressure , there was a whirr and the voice stopped -- as voices must if you ram a thrice-doubled coat on to the wax cylinder and into the works of an expensive phonograph . Kim finished his slumbers with a serene mind . In the morning he was aware of Lurgan Sahib looking down on him . ` Oah ! ' said Kim , firmly resolved to cling to his Sahib-dom . ` There was a box in the night that gave me bad talk . So I stopped it . Was it your box ? ' The man held out his hand . ` Shake hands , O'Hara , ' he said . ` Yes , it was my box . I keep such things because my friends the Rajahs like them . That one is broken , but it was cheap at the price . Yes , my friends , the Kings , are very fond of toys -- and so am I sometimes . '
XXXXX looked him over out of the corners of his eyes .
Kim O'Hara Rajahs Sahib Sahib-dom morning night sewing-machines shaitan whirr