“Charles,” asked Mr. Percy, “Chota Sahib, are you in this conspiracy too? Let us hear from you; the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!” as sternly as if I was a culprit, yet with a twinkle in his eye that I well understood. “Did you ever see this note before?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied, “I saw it in this room yesterday. Ram Singh was here, and Cockear was sitting in front while I made the sketch. I cannot tell a lie, sir. That is my mark. I did it with my little—pen.” I was about to say hatchet, as I had just read the story of George Washington. I also added, “These Greek words are yours, and there are your initials.” “Yes,” said Mr. Percy, “you are correct. The only witness yet remaining is the dog, so we will call him,” and at a whistle, there he was before us, all alive, trembling with eagerness, with that ear of his cocked up, as if waiting to hear us say, “Rats!”
In the whole of this investigation Cockear came as the climax, and his action showed that he was conscious of his importance in the affair. The whole scene was so ludicrous that we, Mr. Percy and all, even Cockear in his way, burst out laughing, except the discomfited Tahsildar, who responded with more of a savage grin than anything else.
Assuming his magisterial air again, Mr. Percy said, “Now, Tahsildar sahib, we will hear what you have to say.” This man, so bold when he entered the room, cowered in his chair. He seemed whipped; completely used up. He began, “Your Honor!” and hesitated. “If it had depended on the testimony of these miserable wretches I would never have believed myself guilty of such a mean act, but as the Chota Sahib’s picture of the dog and your signature on the note are against me, I must believe that I did this thing; it must be my kismet, though I cannot understand how I came to be caught in this net of Shaitan.” “You plead guilty, then?” asked Mr. Percy. “Your Honor have mercy upon me, for it was Shaitan that has beguiled me.”
After a pause Mr. Percy began, “Tahsildar!” he dropped the sahib, “I had all confidence in you, and trusted you implicitly. You have robbed the poor; you have deceived me; you came here boldly and lied to me, and have wronged these poor men in trying to make them out as false witnesses. Why, even the dog is more honorable and truthful than you are. An officer of the government, you are no better than a common liar, or a low down bazar sneak thief. I shall never trust or believe you again.”
As he went on Mr. Percy’s wrath increased, and he gave the Tahsildar such a scoring that made him tremble. Mr. Percy had taken a large round black ruler in his hand, and when firing off one of his severest shots at the Tahsildar, he brought the ruler down upon the table with such force that it broke into a number of pieces. This so increased the fright of the Tahsildar that he threw himself upon the floor and grasped Mr. Percy’s feet. Cockear, taking him for some kind of game, went for the crouching suppliant in dead earnest. This rather spoiled the judicial aspect of the scene. The bearer took away the dog, and the man was ordered to his seat.
“One word more,” said Mr. Percy, “Don’t you ever in any way interfere with these men. They have done just what I told them to do.” Then turning to the men, “Ram Singh, if this Tahsildar ever troubles you in the least, let me know it and I will have him put in jail as a thief. Here are the rupees you paid for the medicine and there is another bottle besides. I am much pleased with what you have done. You can go now,” and out they went, followed by the Tahsildar who made a most obeisant salaam. I doubt if in all his life he was as glad to escape from anything as he was from Mr. Percy’s withering scorn.
This ended, Mr. Percy said, “Now, Charles, I think we have had circus enough for one day, we will take a walk in the garden.” Several times he referred to the scenes in “our court,” as he styled it. The crash of that ruler, the quaking fright, and the crouching of the Tahsildar and Cockear going for him was so ludicrous, that he laughed till the tears came.
I said he was angry. I never again saw him show his indignation as on that day, and had he not cause for it then? Yet he did not use one improper word, nothing but what his mother might have heard, and I think had she been present she would have said “Robert, you are too good, you should not talk to such a man, rather take the ruler to him, or beat him out of the house with your slipper.”
CHAPTER IX.
In the evening I was amused at a little incident. We were taking our coffee after dinner in front of the fire in the drawing room. Cockear was crouched on the rug before us watching every motion and with that ear of his erect as usual. Said Mr. Percy, “Cockear! you honest fellow, come to me,” and with a spring the dog was on Mr. Percy’s lap. Mr. Percy looking into his bright beautiful eyes said, “Cockear, I believe you have a soul and are immortal. I know you would talk to me if only that mouth of yours was of a different shape, but I will say in that upright ear of yours that you are one of the best witnesses I ever had. I wish the witnesses in my court were only half, or even one-quarter as truthful as you are.”