“But they are both to be hanged at the same time that I am, and I do not grudge that I am to be innocently hanged for their plot and the blowing up of the bhangi by mistake for the Collector, for I have long aspired to be holy martyr in Freedom’s sacred cause and have photo in newspapers and be talked about.

“Besides, as I have said, I am not being done brown, as I murdered Mr. Spensonly, the Engineer.

“How I hated him!

“Why should he be big and strong while I am skinny and feeble—­owing to night-and-day burning midnight candle at both ends and unable to make them meet?

“Besides did he not bring unmerited dishonour on grey hairs of poor old progenitor by finding him out in bribe-taking?  Did he not bring my honoured father’s aforesaying grey hairs in sorrow to reduced pension?

“Did he not upbraid and rebuke, nay, reproach me when I made grievous little errors and backslippers?

“A thousand times Yea.

“But I should never have murdered him had I not caught the Plague, so out of evil cometh good once more.

“The Plague came to Gungapur in its millions and we knew not what to do but stood like drowning man splitting at a straw.

“Superstitious Natives said it was the revenge of Goddess Kali for not sacrificing, and superstitious Europeans said it was a microbe created by their God to punish unhygienic way of living.

“Knowing there are no gods of any sort I am in a position to state that it was just written on our foreheads.

“To make confusion worse dumbfounded the Government of course had to seize horns of dilemma and trouble the poor.  They had all cases taken to hospital and made segregation and inspection camps.  They disinfected houses and burnt rags and even purdah women were not allowed to die in bosom of family.  Of course police stole lakhs of rupees worth of clothes and furniture and said it was infected.  And many good men who were enemies of Government were falsely accused of being plague-stricken and were dragged to hospital and were never seen again.

“Terrible calamities fell upon our city and at last it nearly lost me myself.  I was seized, dragged from my family-bosom, cast into hospital and cured.  And in hospital I learned from fellow who was subordinate-medical that rats get plague in sewers and cesspools and when they die of it their fleas must go elsewhere for food, and so hop on to other rat and give that poor chap plague too, by biting him with dirty mouths from dead rat, and then he dies and so in adfinitum, as the poet has it.  But suppose no other rat is handy, what is poor hungry flea to do?  When you can’t get curry, eat rice!  When flea can’t get rat he eats man—­turns to nastier food. (He!  He!)

“So when flea from plague-stricken rat jumps on to man and bites him, poor fellow gets plague—­bus.[58]

  [58] Finale, enough, the end.