Pulin staggered back to his room in despair and observed that Gyanendra and Lakshminarain, who sat at the next desk, were evidently enjoying his mental agony.  Alas! the books showed no trace of any payment to Tarak Ghose & Co.  He wrung his hands in great distress and sat bewildered, until Ramtonu came to summon him to the manager’s tribunal.  In the corridor Ramtonu glanced round, to make sure that no one was within hearing, and said, “Don’t be afraid, Babuji.  You did me a good turn, and I may be able to help you now.”

This Ramtonu was an office menial hailing from the district of Gaya, in Behar.  He was an intelligent man, but rather unlicked, and was the butt of the younger clerks, who delighted in mocking his uncouth up-country dialect.  Pulin, however, had never joined in “ragging” him, and, on one occasion, he lent Ramtonu Rs. 7 for his wife, who was about to increase the population of Gaya.  Gratitude for kindness is a marked trait in the Indian character, and Pulin bethought him of the old fable of the Lion and Mouse.  He asked:  “Why, what do you know about lekha-para (reading and writing)?”

“Never mind,” rejoined Ramtonu.  “We must not loiter, for we should be suspected of plotting together.  Come to the Saheb’s room.  I shall be admitted, for he knows that I don’t understand English.  All I ask is that you will clasp your hands as a signal when I may come forward and tell my story,”

A European police officer was seated by Mr. Henderson’s side, engaged in writing from his dictation.  They looked up, and the manager asked whether Pulin had found any record of the payment in dispute.

On receiving a negative answer, he said:  “Then I shall be obliged to hand you over to the police”.

Pulin clasped his hands in a mute appeal for mercy, whereon Ramtonu stepped forward.  Carefully extracting a folded sheet of foolscap from the pocket of his chapkan (a tight-fitting garment, worn by nearly all classes in full dress), he spread it out on the table and respectfully asked the manager to run his eye over it.

“By Jove,” remarked the latter, with great surprise, “here’s some one has been copying my signature—­and Pulin’s writing too!”

All eyes were now bent on the incriminating document.  It was made up of many fragments of paper, carefully pasted on a sheet of foolscap, and bore the words, “Tarak Ghose & Co., two hundred rupees, 200,” repeated at least twenty times.  Below was “A.G.  Henderson,” also multiplied many-fold.  The manager asked where Ramtonu had found the paper, and received the following answer:—­“Your Highness, Pulin Babu here did not come to office on Monday; and for the next few days his work was done by Gyanendra Babu, who got the keys of his desk.  I knew that he and some other clerks detested Pulin Babu, so I watched their movements narrowly, to see whether they would try to get him into a scrape, and more than once I surprised Gyanendra and Lakshminarain