"There is no need to fear me," he said, since the babu would not
answer. "Speak! How much do you know?"

So the babu took heart of grace, producing a voice from somewhere
down in his enormous stomach and saying, of course, the very last
thing expected of him.

"Grief chokes me!" he asserted.

"Take care that I choke thee not, _babuji_! I have asked a
question. I am no lawyer to maneuver for my answer. Did you see that
trooper killed?"

The babu nodded; but his nod was not much more than tentative. He
could have denied it next minute without calling much on his
imagination.

"Oh! Which way went the murderer?"

"Grief overwhelms me!" said the babu.

"Grief for what?"

"For my money--my good money--my emoluments!"

Direct as an arrow though he was in all his dealings, Ranjoor Singh
had not forgotten how the Old East thinks. He recognized the
preliminaries of a bargain, and searched his mind to recall how much
money he had with him; to have searched his pocket would have been
too puerile.