Hardly less an enticement was the downward prospect, for the mountain wall continued to drop, nearly perpendicularly, into a cleft that could only have been the result of some cataclysm in the far past. The floor of the valley, hazily distant, welcomed the eye with greenness; sheltered from winds, and surveyed rather than dominated by the lamasery, it looked to Conway a delightfully favored place, though if it were inhabited its community must be completely isolated by the lofty and sheerly unscalable ranges on the further side. Only to the lamasery did there appear to be any climbable egress at all. Conway experienced, as he gazed, a slight tightening of apprehension; Mallinson’s misgivings were not, perhaps, to be wholly disregarded. But the feeling was only momentary, and soon merged in the deeper sensation, half mystical, half visual, of having reached at last some place that was an end, a finality.
He never exactly remembered how he and the others arrived at the lamasery, or with what formalities they were received, unroped, and ushered into the precincts. That thin air had a dream-like texture, matching the porcelain-blue of the sky; with every breath and every glance he took in a deep anesthetizing tranquillity that made him impervious alike to Mallinson’s uneasiness, Barnard’s witticisms, and Miss Brinklow’s portrayal of a lady well prepared for the worst. He vaguely recollected surprise at finding the interior spacious, well warmed, and quite clean; but there was no time to do more than notice these qualities, for the Chinese had left his hooded chair and was already leading the way through various antechambers. He was quite affable now. “I must apologize,” he said, “for leaving you to yourselves on the way, but the truth is, journeys of that kind don’t suit me, and I have to take care of myself. I trust you were not too fatigued?”
“We managed,” replied Conway with a wry smile.
“Excellent. And now, if you will come with me, I will show you to your apartments. No doubt you would like baths. Our accommodation is simple, but I hope adequate.”
At this point Barnard, who was still affected by shortness of breath, gave vent to an asthmatic chuckle. “Well,” he gasped, “I can’t say I like your climate yet – the air seems to stick on my chest a bit – but you’ve certainly got a darned fine view out of your front windows. Do we all have to line up for the bathroom, or is this an American hotel?”
“I think you will find everything quite satisfactory, Mr. Barnard.”
Miss Brinklow nodded primly. “I should hope so, indeed.”
“And afterwards,” continued the Chinese, “I should be greatly honored if you will all join me at dinner.”
Conway replied courteously. Only Mallinson had given no sign of his attitude in the face of these unlooked-for amenities. Like Barnard, he had been suffering from the altitude, but now, with an effort, he found breath to exclaim: “And afterwards, also, if you don’t mind, we’ll make our plans for getting away. The sooner the better, so far as I’m concerned.”