` 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 . ' Kim looked him over out of the corners of his eyes . He was a Sahib in that he wore Sahib 's clothes ; the accent of his Urdu , the intonation of his English , showed that he was anything but a Sahib . He seemed to understand what moved in Kim 's mind ere the boy opened his mouth , and he took no pains to explain himself as did Father Victor or the Lucknow masters . Sweetest of all -- he treated Kim as an equal on the Asiatic side . ' I am sorry you can not beat my boy this morning . He says he will kill you with a knife or poison . He is jealous , so I have put him in the corner and I shall not speak to him today . He has just tried to kill me . You must help me with the breakfast . He is almost too jealous to trust , just now . ' Now a genuine imported Sahib from England would have made a great to-do over this tale . Lurgan Sahib stated it as simply as Mahbub Ali was used to record his little affairs in the North . The back veranda of the shop was built out over the sheer hillside , and they looked down into their neighbours ' chimney-pots , as is the custom of Simla . But even more than the purely Persian meal cooked by Lurgan Sahib with his own hands , the shop fascinated Kim . The Lahore Museum was larger , but here were more wonders -- ghost-daggers and prayer-wheels from Tibet ; turquoise and raw amber necklaces ; green jade bangles ; curiously packed incense-sticks in jars crusted over with raw garnets ; the devil-masks of overnight and a wall full of peacock-blue draperies ; gilt figures of Buddha , and little portable lacquer altars ; Russian samovars with turquoises on the lid ; egg-shell china sets in quaint octagonal cane boxes ; yellow ivory crucifixes -- from Japan of all places in the world , so Lurgan Sahib said ; carpets in dusty bales , smelling atrociously , pushed back behind torn and rotten screens of geometrical work ; Persian water-jugs for the hands after meals ; dull copper incense-burners neither Chinese nor Persian , with friezes of fantastic devils running round them ; tarnished silver belts that knotted like raw hide ; hairpins of jade , ivory , and plasma ; arms of all sorts and kinds , and a thousand other oddments were cased , or piled , or merely thrown into the room , leaving a clear space only round the rickety deal table , where Lurgan Sahib worked .
` Those things are nothing , ' said his host , following XXXXX 's glance . '
Ali Kim Urdu garnets ghost-daggers hairpins incense-burners morning overnight turquoises