"I do not remember," he said slowly but with great conviction,
scratching at his stomach as if he kept his recollections stored there.

"You said twenty-five rupees, eight annas? Well, I will pay the half
of it, and no more," said Ranjoor Singh in a new voice that seemed to
suggest unutterable things. "Moreover, I will pay it when I have
proved thy memory true. Now, scratch that belly of thine and let the
thoughts come forth!"

"Nay, sahib, I forget."

Ranjoor Singh drew out his purse and counted twelve rupees and three
quarters into the palm of his hand.

"Which way?" he demanded.

"Twenty-five rupees, eight annas of earned emolument--gone while I
watched the movements of a murderer! It is not easy to keep brave
heart and remember things!"

"See here, thou bellyful of memories! Remember and tell me, or I
return this money to my purse and march thee by the nape of thy fat
neck to the police station, where they will put thee in a cell for
the night and jog thy memory in ways the police are said to
understand! Speak! Here, take the money!"

The babu reached out a fat hand and the silver changed owners.

"There!" said the babu, jerking a thumb over his right shoulder.
"Through that door!"