Matters now began to look ugly for Kumodini Babu. Every vendor who
approached his market was intercepted. He implored the help of the
Sub-Inspector, who, however, observed a strict neutrality, hinting
that the complainant was at liberty to defend himself with the aid
of clubmen. But Kumodini Babu was a man of peace, and finding the
policeman something less than lukewarm, he resigned himself to the
inevitable.

His evil star continued to prevail, for, soon after these untoward
events, it brought him into collision with the police. In consequence
of an understanding with Ramani Babu, the Sub-Inspector took to buying
provisions from the few shopkeepers who still attended Kumodini Babu's
market and referring them to him for payment. His constables, too,
helped themselves freely to rice and vegetables without even asking
the price, and had their shoes blacked gratis by Kumodini Babu's
muchis (leather-dressers). His bailiff put up with their vagaries,
until the shopkeepers came in a body to say that unless they were
stopped, the market would be entirely deserted. The luckless Zemindar
was staggered by the tale of oppression. He paid for every article
extorted by the police, but strictly forbade the vendors to give any
further credit. The Sub-Inspector was deeply incensed in finding this
source of illicit profit cut off, and his vengeance was perpetrated
under the pretence of law.

One evening, while Kumodini Babu was conning the Mahábhárata (an
ancient epic) in his parlour, the Sub-Inspector came in, armed with
a search warrant issued by the Deputy Magistrate of Ghoria, which
he showed the astonished master of the house. A charge of receiving
stolen property brought against him was indeed a bolt from the blue;
but when Kumodini Babu regained his scattered wits, he told the