"Nonsense," was the rejoinder. "I won't take a pice less than
Rs. 100." After several minutes wasted on haggling, it was agreed
that Asu Babu should be paid Rs. 40 on the nail and Rs. 35 more
if he won the suit. The pleader pocketed this first instalment, and
assured Samarendra that he would prove the sale to have been perfectly
valid. Then the trio separated, Samarendra returning to Bipin's house
where they passed the day in forming plans for further purchases.

At 10.30 on the morrow, both attended at the Collectorate and
found that the Shibprakásh objection stood first for hearing. It was
opened by the appellant's pleader, who rose armed with a huge account
book and bundle of receipts, in order to prove that his client owed
nothing to Government, and that the sale proceedings were a blunder
from beginning to end. Asu Babu waited till his turn came, and then
informed the Collector that he would find, on examining his books, that
the appellant was Rs. 1 11. 0. in arrears at the date of the sale. The
Collector ordered his head clerk to produce the ledger account of
payments on account of the Shibprakásh estates, and, sure enough, they
showed a short payment of the amount stated. This was a thunderbolt
for the appellant, whose pleader vainly tried to pick holes in the
accounts, but was at last obliged to confess that a mistake had been
made. The only course open to him was to sue for mercy. The Collector,
however, was inexorable, and indeed he had no power to mitigate the
Draconian law of sale. That of Shibprakásh was duly confirmed, and
its new owner adjourned to the bar library to settle matters with
his pleader. The meeting was joyful indeed. After congratulating Asu
Babu on his unexpected success, Samarendra asked how he had managed
it. The pleader at first refused to gratify his curiosity, but yielded
to entreaty. "The tiger has a jackal," he said, "and I, who cannot
stoop to dirty tricks myself, have a certain mukhtiár (the lowest