Pussy sat down and scrawled off the following note:
"Dear Mrs. Lepell,—
"Please excuse Verona. She has had a bad wetting, and is gone to bed.
"Believe me,
"Yours sincerely,
"Bellamina Chandos."
The true state of the case was not long in finding its way to Mrs. Lepell's ears. She could not help laughing at the incident as she related it to her nephew, but she felt more sorry than ever for Verona Chandos.
It was eleven o'clock at night. The bungalow was silent, the lights were extinguished everywhere except in the office, and here we behold Mrs. Chandos and Abdul Buk face to face across a table, exceedingly grave and busy. In front of each was a large ledger, and as Mrs. Chandos read out figures and totals Abdul Buk said "Jehan, jehan," and ticked off the duplicate in pencil; occasionally Mrs. Chandos would point out discrepancies and losses, and a certain amount of argument and wrangling would ensue.
"There is that widow in the Gorra bazaar; she owes me a hundred rupees."
"With interest," amended Abdul.