your name?

"Oh! Mahatma," I answered at hazard.

"Which means, my friend Mahatma, that he spent most of the year in
killing the lower animals such as me. Yes, he spent quite eight months
out of the twelve in killing us one way and another, for when there was
no more killing to be done in his own country, he would travel to others
and kill there. He would even kill pigeons from a trap, or young rooks
just out of their nests, or rats in a stack, or sparrows among
ivy, rather than not kill anything. I've heard Giles say so to the
under-keeper and call him 'a regular slaughterer' and 'a true-blood
Englishman.'

"Yet, my friend Mahatma, I say in the light of the truth which has come
to me, that according to his knowledge Grampus was a good man. Thus,
what little time he had to spare from sport he passed in helping his
brother men by sending them to prison. Although of course he never
worked or earned anything, he was very rich, because money flowed to him
from other people who had been very rich, but who at last were forced
to travel this Road and could not bring it with them. If they could have
brought it, I am sure that Grampus would never have got any. However, he
did get it, and he aided a great many people with that part of it which
he found he could not spend upon himself. He was a very good man, only
he liked killing us lower creatures, whom he bred up with his money to
be killed.

"Go on with your story, Hare," I said; "when I see this Red-faced Man I
will judge of him for myself. Probably you are prejudiced about him."