"Buralli! Stop her!"
"No, Sahib, who can stop a Somal woman? Drown her. Murder her—yes, but as long as she has breath in her body she'll talk."
"Well," I said, "I am going to finish this case. Let her proceed."
On and on she raved. "This is a government office, and here I hope to get justice from an English Sahib, etc., etc." At last she was talked out. I seized my opportunity.
"Do these women live in the same quarter of the town?"
"No, Sahib, in different quarters."
"Well the order of this court is that they be each escorted forth from this building by three police constables to their separate homes. The part of the town in which accused No. 1 lives is out of bounds to No. 2, and she enters therein at peril of being arrested. Vice versâ, the quarter where No. 2 lives is out of bounds to No. 1, and if found there she will be arrested. Take them out!"
I watched No. 2 being led down the road that runs straight away from my office door. No. 1 was escorted across the square to the left. At intervals the women paused to wave their arms and shout abuse at one another, but were ever hustled on by the policemen. At last the stout lady sat on the road and defied her escort to shift her. They did not try, and there she sat until her rival was out of sight, when she arose and went quietly to her home.
"When a Mussulman has been married to one woman for years," says Buralli, "and then marries a second wife he has spoiled the first one."
"In this particular instance, which calls forth your words of wisdom, Buralli, it appears to me that it was the second wife alone who was in danger of being spoiled—by the old wife," I replied.