his wares, to their master's market, which was being held about three
miles away. The bailiff waited at the crossing for new arrivals. They
were not long in coming. A fishwoman, heavily laden, passed by. He
hailed her, and on learning whither she was bound, ordered his men
to drag her to their master's market, which they did, despite the
volume of abuse which she hurled at their heads. In this manner some
half a dozen deserters were captured and escorted to the old market.

The story of his tyranny spread like wildfire through neighbouring
villages, with many amplifications, of course. Kumodini Babu heard
that his rival had arrested a hundred frequenters of his market and
was about to destroy the shelters he had erected for salesmen. This
information filled him with anxiety and, after consulting friends,
he lodged a complaint at the police station. In the remote interior of
Bengal policemen are all-powerful. They usurp authority to which they
are not entitled by law, and use it for private ends. All classes go
in perpetual fear of them; for, by a stroke of the pen, they can ruin
reputations and defeat justice. No one has recourse to their dreaded
agency who can avoid doing so or has the means of gratifying their
greed. By giving a handsome douceur to the Sub-Inspector, Kumodini Babu
obtained a promise of support, which he was simple enough to rely upon.

Meantime Ramani Babu's market bailiff was not idle. Knowing that
he had acted illegally, he resolved to "square" the executive. So,
one evening, he persuaded his master to accompany him to the police
station, provided with a bundle of ten-rupee currency notes. After
discussing commonplaces with the Sub-Inspector, they adjourned to
an inner room, where they induced him to take their side--for very
weighty reasons.