"Partly," said he; "but what do I know about you?"
"Exactly," said I—"the very thing I want; you need know nothing, and you will have nothing to tell if you are ever asked. Take my advice, and remain quietly within your village; and if the earth turns upside down you are not to stir out. For this you shall be well paid. But if you molest us, remember we are three hundred to seven—fearful odds, my friend."
"Nay, I am wise," said he; "what Bhojpooree is not? Nor do I wish to interfere. Do what you like; neither I nor my men will stir a foot."
"Can you depend on them?" said I; "can they be close?"
"As close as you wish them to be, Jemadar; but we must be paid."
"Certainly," said I; "I would not have it otherwise: but the reward depends on what we get."
"Say two hundred rupees," said the fellow; "it is worth your while."
"Well, it is a bargain, Duffadar," I replied, "and the Potail is witness. And now I will give you further advice, which is, that you are to know nothing and see nothing, if even the lord Sahib were to ask you. You are to know only that travellers came and departed, and you kept no account of them."
"Of course," said the fellow; "I know this of old. I have met parties of your people in my own country, and have no reason to be dissatisfied with them: they have always behaved like men of honour, and kept their words with me."
"Then we are agreed?" said I.