"Now there's another bill for those drinks you and your friends stole when passengers' backs were turned. I saw you do it!"
"Why didn't you object at the time?" sneered Coutlass.
"Here is the bill: twenty-seven rupees, twelve annas. Total, forty-five rupees, four annas. You may make the manager a present of the odd sum for his injured feelings, and call it an even fifty. Settle now, or wait here for the down-train and go to jail in Mombasa!"
"Wait in this place?" asked Coutlass, aghast.
"Where else? There'll be a down passenger train in a week."
"I pay!" said the Greek, with a hideous grimace.
"Take the irons off him, then."
The guard unlocked the handcuffs and Coutlass began to fumble for a money-bag.
"Give me a receipt!" he demanded, thumbing out the money.
"You are the receipt!" said the official. "An Englishman would have been sent to jail with a fine, and have paid the bill into the bargain. You're treated leniently because you can't be expected to understand decent behavior. You're expected to learn, however. Next time you will catch it hot!"