“Wait a minute,” was Karim’s reply, “we must collect our belongings.”
So saying he ordered the dacoits to extinguish their torches and follow him with the bags of money. He led them to a ravine on the river bank, about a coss (two miles) distant, where the spoil was equitably divided according to a list of names and amounts due in Karim’s possession. Then after arranging for alibis in case of criminal proceedings, the band dispersed, well satisfied with their night’s work.
Chandra Babu’s neighbours made no sign until the dacoits were well out of hearing, when they flocked in to unloose his bonds and offer hypocritical condolences. The village Chaukidar (watchman) was sent off to the police station, and next day arrived the Sub-Inspector with a posse of constables to investigate the dacoity. After recording the complainant’s statement, they endeavoured to secure additional evidence, but Chandra Babu was so cordially disliked, and the dacoits’ vengeance so dreaded, that not a soul came forward to corroborate his story. Karim was arrested, with half a dozen accomplices named by Chandra Babu. They had no difficulty in proving that they were attending a wedding ceremony five miles away on the night of the alleged dacoity. So the case was reported to headquarters as false; and Chandra Babu escaped prosecution for deceiving the police, by giving a heavy bribe to the Sub-Inspector.
His evil star continued in the ascendant. About a week afterwards, he discovered a heavy deficit in his cash book, kept by Santi Priya, which that rascal failed to explain, and next day the trusty manager did not attend office. Indeed he has never been heard of since. This new calamity was Chandra Babu’s “last straw”. He hastened to realise outstanding debts and left the village, bag and baggage, to the intense relief of its inhabitants, who celebrated his exit by offering pujá or namáz (Mohammadan prayers) according to the religion they severally professed.
All’s Well That End’s Well.
Every good Hindu feels bound to get his daughter or sister, as the case may be, married before she attains puberty. Rich people find little difficulty in securing suitable matches for their girls; but Babu Jadunath Basu, widely known as “Jadu Babu,” was not blessed with a large share of this world’s goods; and his sister Basumati was close on her teens. The marriage-broker had certainly suggested more than one aspirant for her hand, but they were not to Jadu Babu’s liking. As years rolled by, his anxiety deepened into despair. A match was at length offered which was passably good, although it did not answer Jadu Babu’s expectations. He learnt from private inquiry that the boy proposed bore a good character, never mixed with doubtful associates, and had no constitutional defect. Hindu parents are very careful to ascertain the health of a suitor, and should they suspect any inherited disease, such as consumption, they reject him remorselessly. It must not be supposed that such lads are always doomed to celibacy, for their unsoundness may be hidden or counterbalanced by a substantial money payment.
Jadu Babu found out that the boy had matriculated at Calcutta and was attending the second year class at a Metropolitan College; more important still, his father, Amarendra Babu, had money invested in Government paper, besides a substantial brick house—qualifications which augured well for his sister’s wedded happiness. The next step was to invite his own father, Kumodini Babu, to come from Benares and help him to clinch matters. The old man pleaded that he had done with the world and all its vanities; so Jadu Babu had to make a pilgrimage to the Holy City, where he induced Kumodini Babu to return home with him. Three days later the pair went to Calcutta with two friends, in order to make the suitor’s acquaintance. They were welcomed by Amarendra Babu, who at once sent for his son. The boy came in with eyes fixed on the ground and shyly took a seat near Kumodini Babu. He underwent a severe scrutiny, and at last the old man broke silence by asking the lad his name. Being informed that it was Samarendra Nath, he inquired the names of his father and grandfather, which were promptly given.
“Good boy,” observed Kumodini Babu, “the times are so completely out of joint that youths are ashamed to, utter their father’s name, let alone their grandfather’s. Where are you studying?”
“At the Metropolitan Institution,” was the reply.