` Out and bar the door ! Let none come near till it is finished , ' said Kim . ` But afterwards -- we may talk ? ' Kim tilted the kilta on the floor -- a cascade of Survey-instruments , books , diaries , letters , maps , and queerly scented native correspondence . At the very bottom was an embroidered bag covering a sealed , gilded , and illuminated document such as one King sends to another . Kim caught his breath with delight , and reviewed the situation from a Sahib 's point of view . ` The books I do not want . Besides , they are logarithms -- Survey , I suppose . ' He laid them aside . ` The letters I do not understand , but Colonel Creighton will . They must all be kept . The maps -- they draw better maps than me -- of course . All the native letters -- oho ! -- and particularly the murasla . ' He sniffed the embroidered bag . ` That must be from Hilas or Bunar , and Hurree Babu spoke truth . By Jove ! It is a fine haul . I wish Hurree could know ... The rest must go out of the window . ' He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a theodolite .
But after all , a XXXXX can not very well steal , and the things might be inconvenient evidence later .
Bunar Creighton Hilas Jove Kim King Sahib Survey-instruments kilta oho