He had to stop for a fortnight or so at Ghoria, in order to get possession of his purchase from the Collectorate nazir (bailiff) who, according to custom, planted a bamboo thereon, as a symbol of its transfer.  While waiting for this formality he attended another sale for arrears of revenue, in the hope of picking up some profitable bargains.  He was not disappointed.  The last lot was the whole of Jayrampur, a small village quite close to his house, inhabited by hardworking and submissive ryots, who paid their rent punctually.  Samarendra was all agog when the nazir read out the names of its proprietors, the amount of arrears, and the boundaries, calling on the crowd to bid.  A dead silence followed, which was at last broken by a timid offer of Rs. 1,000.  Samarendra promptly bid Rs. 6,000; which he knew was hardly three years’ purchase of the net rental, and the rise was so tremendous that it choked off all competition.  Jayrampur was knocked down to him; but his exultation was tempered by the discovery that he had not nearly enough to meet the amount of earnest money which had to be paid down at once.  A mukhtiar came to his aid by whispering offers of a loan, and the requisite amount was forthcoming in five minutes, on Samarendra’s giving his note of hand with a bonus of 10 per cent. payable next day.

His star continued to be in the eleventh heaven; for this was one of a series of profitable purchases.  In seven or eight years he owned estates yielding an income of Rs. 8,000, while his dealings in grain produced half as much again.

Samarendra’s ambition rose with growing prosperity.  Visions of a title hovered in his brain, and being a man of resource, he hit upon an ingenious method of converting them into realities.  Close to his house there was an extensive bil (marsh) peopled in season by swarms of wild-duck, teal and snipe.  It was visited occasionally by Europeans from Calcutta, who are always on the alert for a day’s sport, but they were inconvenienced by the total lack of accommodation.  So Samarendra built a neat bungalow, equipped it with European furniture, and placed an old Khansama (Mohammadan butler) in charge, who was versed in all the customs of Saheb-log (Englishmen).  This menial had orders to report the arrival of white visitors and offer them hospitality.  His courtesy was highly appreciated, and there was scarcely a Sunday during the cold weather which did not bring a couple of sportsmen to the bungalow.  Samarendra attended personally to their comforts, thus making many friends.  Through their influence he secured carte blanche in the matter of guns and ammunition—­a boon which seldom falls to the lot of middle-class Indians.  At their request he subscribed to various European clubs, winning the reputation of being “not half a bad sort of fellow”.  All this hospitality, however, was terribly expensive, and it soon exceeded Samarendra’s income.  But he went on spending money like water, in the assurance that one day it would yield a golden return.