After removing three more folds I came to another small packet, which was tied up with thread. "Here is something at last," said I, breaking it open: "bills of exchange, in the name of the blessed Prophet! and, I doubt not, of value, too. Have we any one who can make them out?"
"I cannot read the writing," said Bhudrinath, "but I can make out the figures if they are not written in Persian."
"Ah, no," said I, "they are Nagree or Guzerattee; so try your skill."
"This," said Bhudrinath, after examining one, "is for two thousand rupees: see, these are the figures."
"I dare say you are right," said I, handing the rest to him; "what are these for?"
"Here is a second for four hundred."
"Not much," said my father; "but go on."
"The third is for—let me see again," said Bhudrinath; "ah, I am right, it is for two thousand two hundred; and the last is for two hundred and forty."
"That is, let me see," said I, "four thousand eight hundred and forty. Well, we have got a good prize."
"Yes!" cried my father, "we should be well off if they were worth anything to us; but they are no better than the waste paper we have burned."