"No," said she, "it would be impossible for me to recognise you, as I was only a little child when you ran away. No one but my father could know you and he, alas! died yesterday."
"That is very sad," replied the Thief, "for indeed it will be difficult for me to prove the truth of my story. Let us, however, go into the room where my father's corpse is lying, and ask it whether or no I am his long-lost son."
The girl agreed to this, and the two went together into the chamber where the old man's corpse was sitting trussed-up for burial, in accordance with the Tibetan custom.
"Are you there, father," said the Thief, as he entered the darkened room; and Rin-dzin, in a sepulchral voice replied, "Ah."
"I have come to ask you," went on the Thief, "whether or no I am your long-lost son."
"You are," replied Rin-dzin.
And on hearing this the Thief at once retired, followed by the young girl, who was now completely convinced of his identity.
"Now, sister," said the Thief, addressing her when they were alone together, "you see that my story is true, but, unfortunately, I am unable to stay here as I am called away this very night on urgent business. I will therefore make over to you the house and the whole of the landed property, and all I ask from you as my share of the estate is a bag of gold, as big as I can carry with me."
