“Oh, that’s far too much,” was the reply. “Do you want to ruin me? Can’t you do it for less?”
“Not a pice less. I could perform a jog (sacrifice) for as little as ten rupees; but such maimed rites are quite contrary to the Shástras.”
“Will you guarantee definite results for Rs. 100?” asked Debendra Babu anxiously.
“I promise nothing; if you have faith in my ceremonies, you must pay me my own price; if not—I leave you to Fate.”
“I have implicit faith in you,” groaned Debendra Babu, who was now terribly alarmed, “and will pay you Rs. 100 to-morrow, but please don’t delay; the matter is very pressing.”
Gobardhan agreed to the proposal; but seeing that his client was loth to go and evidently had something on his mind, he remarked:—
“When a wise man consults a physician, he always discloses his symptoms. You must be quite frank and tell me how your affairs have been progressing lately, in order that I may address my incantations to the proper quarter. Be sure that I will divulge nothing.”
Thus encouraged Debendra Babu revealed his relations with Siráji, confessed that he had bribed Abdullah to administer a powerful drug to her, and expatiated on the very awkward predicament in which her sudden death had placed him.
Gobardhan listened with breathless attention and then remarked: “You have acted rightly in telling me the whole truth. I will perform a homa (burnt sacrifice) and verily believe that it will have the desired effect. Let me have Rs. 200 and I will set about it at once.”
Debendra Babu groaned inwardly at the thought of so heavy an expenditure; but after all, the prospect of escaping deadly peril was well worth Rs. 200. So he returned home and thence despatched the amount in currency notes to Gobardhan.