Sadhu’s tone completely changed.  “Salam, Babu,” he whined.  “I did not know who you were.  Please let me pass or I shall be too late.”

“Not so fast, friend,” shouted the bailiff.  “Once for all, are you going to obey me or not?”

Sadhu prodded his bullocks into a lumbering canter; but the bailiff gave a signal to his clubmen, who ran after him, dragged him out of the cart, and thrashed him soundly.  Then two of them escorted him, with his wares, to their master’s market, which was being held about three miles away.  The bailiff waited at the crossing for new arrivals.  They were not long in coming.  A fishwoman, heavily laden, passed by.  He hailed her, and on learning whither she was bound, ordered his men to drag her to their master’s market, which they did, despite the volume of abuse which she hurled at their heads.  In this manner some half a dozen deserters were captured and escorted to the old market.

The story of his tyranny spread like wildfire through neighbouring villages, with many amplifications, of course.  Kumodini Babu heard that his rival had arrested a hundred frequenters of his market and was about to destroy the shelters he had erected for salesmen.  This information filled him with anxiety and, after consulting friends, he lodged a complaint at the police station.  In the remote interior of Bengal policemen are all-powerful.  They usurp authority to which they are not entitled by law, and use it for private ends.  All classes go in perpetual fear of them; for, by a stroke of the pen, they can ruin reputations and defeat justice.  No one has recourse to their dreaded agency who can avoid doing so or has the means of gratifying their greed.  By giving a handsome douceur to the Sub-Inspector, Kumodini Babu obtained a promise of support, which he was simple enough to rely upon.

Meantime Ramani Babu’s market bailiff was not idle.  Knowing that he had acted illegally, he resolved to “square” the executive.  So, one evening, he persuaded his master to accompany him to the police station, provided with a bundle of ten-rupee currency notes.  After discussing commonplaces with the Sub-Inspector, they adjourned to an inner room, where they induced him to take their side—­for very weighty reasons.

Matters now began to look ugly for Kumodini Babu.  Every vendor who approached his market was intercepted.  He implored the help of the Sub-Inspector, who, however, observed a strict neutrality, hinting that the complainant was at liberty to defend himself with the aid of clubmen.  But Kumodini Babu was a man of peace, and finding the policeman something less than lukewarm, he resigned himself to the inevitable.