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Updated: June 24, 2025
What was far worse, the "faithful servant" had spoken freely of Debendra Babu's relations with Siráji in the village, and it was he who instigated the anonymous letter which was about to bring the police down on his master. Though all this was the purest fiction, Debendra Babu swallowed it greedily.
He told Jogesh that he should be quite satisfied with Rs. 4,001, viz., ornaments 2,000, barabharan and phulsajya Rs. 500 each, and cash Rs. 1,001. They then separated with many protestations of mutual good-will. Meantime Jogesh made minute inquiries as to Amarendra Babu's position and the health of his son.
Once master of the situation he drew in his horns, lending money only to people who could give ample security in land, government papers, or jewellery. He was heard to boast that every family in or near Kadampur, except the Basus, were on his books. The duties of his new office were entirely to Santi Priya's liking, and he performed them to Chandra Babu's unqualified approval.
Shám Babu's face wore a worried look. "Surely that would be flying too high for such as us," he rejoined. Kumodini Babu would hardly allow his son to marry the daughter of a poor clerk." "Still, there is no harm in trying," remarked the wife. "If you don't feel equal to approaching him, there's Kanto Babu who would do so.
But all at once it occurred to him that he had left the babu's loin-cloth on the inside front seat of the shay; and, because if that were seen it would have given excuse for a thousand tales too many and too imaginative, he hurried in search of it, taking a short cut to where by that time the shay should be. On his way, close to his destination, he stumbled over something soft that tripped him.
Finding a lamentable decrease in his receipts, he ordered the bailiff to "go ahead," and took an early train for Calcutta in order to set up an alibi in case of legal proceedings. A day or two later his bailiff, attended by six or seven men armed with iron-shod bamboo staves, assembled at the outskirts of Kumodini Babu's market, on a spot where four roads met.
He dipped his hand into the dish with that great trader when Mahbub and a few co-religionists were invited to a big Haj dinner. They came back by way of Karachi by sea, when Kim took his first experience of sea-sickness sitting on the fore-hatch of a coasting-steamer, well persuaded he had been poisoned. The Babu's famous drug-box proved useless, though Kim had restocked it at Bombay.
One of Kumodini Babu's friends, who happened to be a Calcutta B.A., would not lose the opportunity of airing his superior learning. "What are your English text-books?" he asked. "Blackie's Self-culture, Helps' Essays, Milton's Paradise Lost, and Tennyson's Enoch Arden," gabbled Samarendra in one breath. "Very good, now please fetch your Paradise Lost."
The widow declined to seek Nagendra Babu's help, even if she were reduced to beg in the streets. After mature reflection she sent for Rámdá, who had known her from infancy. He obeyed the summons with alacrity and gave the poor woman sound advice regarding the direction of the Zemindary. By acting on it she was able to increase her income and live in tolerable comfort.
His first care was to rebuild the family residence, a congenial task which occupied five years and made a large hole in his savings. The usual range of brick cattle-sheds and servants' quarters made up quite an imposing group of buildings. Kumodini Babu's was a favourite rendezvous, and much time was killed there in conversation, card-playing, and chess.
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