The khansaman, beaming in acknowledgment of the implied compliment to his own importance, replied: 

“To Sinfray Sahib, worthy khalasi.”

“The great Sinfray Sahib of Chandernagore?  Surely that is a strange thing!”

“Strange!  What is strange?  That Sinfray Sahib should own so fine a house?  You should see his other house in Chandernagore:  then indeed you might lift your eyes in wonder.”

“Nay, indeed, I marveled not at that, for Sinfray Sahib is indeed a great man.  We who dwell upon the kala pani know well his name.  Is it not known in the bazaars in Pondicheri and Surat?  But I marvel at this, khansaman:  that on one day, this day of my speaking to you, I should meet the sahib’s most trusty servant, as I doubt not you are, and also the man who has sworn revenge upon the owner of this house—­ay, and on all the household.”

“Bismillah! {’in the name of Allah!’—­a common exclamation}” exclaimed the khansaman, spitting out his betel.  He was thoroughly interested, but as yet unconcerned.  “What do you mean, khalasi?”

“I parted but now, on the river, from a fellow boatman who of late has lain in prison at Hugli, put there, they say, by order of Sinfray Sahib.  He is not a dacoit; no man less so; but false witnesses rose up against him.  And, I bethink me, he said that the sahib’s khansaman was one of these men with lying lips.

“Surely he was in error; for your face, O khansaman, is open as the sun, your lips are fragrant with the very attar of truth.  But he is filled with rage and fury; in his madness he will not tarry to inquire.  If he should meet you—­well, it is the will of Allah:  no man can escape his fate.”

The khansaman, as Desmond spoke, looked more and more distressed; and at the last words his face was livid.

“It is not true,” he said.  “But I know the blind fury of revenge.  Do thou entreat him for me.  I will pay thee well.  I have saved a few pice {coin, value one-eighth of a penny}.  It will be worth five rupees to thee; and to make amends to the madman, I will give him fifty rupees, even if it strips me of all I have.  Allah knows it was not my doing; it was forced upon me.”

“How could that be, khansaman?” said Desmond, letting pass the man’s contradictory statements.

“It is not necessary to explain; my word is my word.”

“No doubt; but so enraged is the khalasi I speak of that unless I can explain to him fully he will not heed me.  Never shall I dissuade him from his purpose.”

“It is the will of Allah!” said the khansaman resignedly.  “I will tell you.  It was not Sinfray Sahib at all.  He was at the Nawab’s court at Murshidabad.  He had lent his house to a friend while he was absent.  The friend had a spite against Merriman Sahib, the merchant at Calcutta; and when the bibi and the chota bibi came down the river he seized them.  Sinfray Sahib believes there was an attack by dacoits; but the bibi’s peons were carried away by the sahib’s friend:  it was he that brought the evidence against them.  The Angrezi Sahib induced me to swear falsely by avouching that Sinfray Sahib was also an enemy of Merriman Sahib; but when the judge had said his word the sahib bade me keep silence with my master, for he was ignorant of it all.  The Angrezi Sahib is a terrible man:  what could I do?  I was afraid to speak.”