The prisoner stood up boldly, as befitted the namesake of the lion, and confronted his accusers with a haughty and impassive mien. But surely—surely those keen grey eyes were the eyes of Naim Sing!
“I am not the criminal,” he declared. “Who is this Naim Sing—this murderer? and what hath he to do with me? Behold I am Krookia, and my father is Rusool Sing, who lives in the village of Tolee; my star is Jeshta and Ras, and my horoscope is with Gunga Josh, if he be yet alive.”
Moreover, he brought witnesses, and the certificate of Naim Sing’s death in Moulmein jail.
“The people of the pergunnah, which you aver that you belong to, do not know you,” said the Crown prosecutor. “But Rateeban recognized you; how can you explain that?”
“There be two Rateebans,” was the glib answer, “and one is mine enemy.”
“Strange that Rateeban, the enemy of Naim Sing, is your enemy also.”
“I doubt not that the lame dog—may his race be exterminated!—hath many foes. I know him not. He hath been the means of sending one man to prison for life, and now, behold, he would despatch another. It is a vicious ambition. As for the people of my village, lo! many years ago, I found a treasure, and my neighbours quarrelled and beat and robbed me. They have no desire to recall their own black deeds, nor my face. I fled to the plains, where I have taken road contracts for the Sirkar, and prospered.”
“Naim Sing also found a treasure,” said the advocate. “Does the land in these hills yield so many of these crops?”
“By your honour’s favour, I cannot tell. I found one treasure, to my cost. Money is a man-slayer.”
Many witnesses recognized or repudiated the prisoner, and there was hard swearing on both sides.