The Rajah drank again. The strong liqueur seemed to have no effect on him. Then he said:
"Well, find a plan yourself. But I must get the girl."
Chunerbutty pretended to think. Then he began to expose tentatively, as if it were an idea just come to him, a plan that he had conceived weeks before.
"Maharaj Sahib, if I could make the girl my wife—"
The Rajah half rose up and spluttered out furiously:
"You dog, wouldst thou dare to rival me, to interfere between me and my desires?"
The engineer hastened to pacify the angry man.
"No, no, Your Highness. You misunderstand me. Surely you know that you can trust me. What I mean is that, if I married her, she would have to obey me, and—" he smiled insinuatingly and significantly—"I am a loyal subject of Your Highness."
The fat debauchee stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few moments. Then understanding dawned, and his bloated face creased into a lascivious smile.
"I see. I see. Then marry her," he said, sinking back on the cushions.