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"Take you two of May Queen's puppies to bring up in your village in such a manner that they do not eat filth, nor lose their hair, nor catch fever from lying in the sun, but become wise hounds." "Like Ray-yal not like Bigglebai?" "Certainly, like Ray-yal not in the least like Bigglebai. That shall be the interest on the loan.
"O Excellency," said the smooth voice of Farag, laying the Field and Country Life square on the table, "is the afflicted of God who resembles Bigglebai one with the man whom the Inspector met in the great house in England, and to whom he told the tale of the Mudir's Cranes?" "The same man, Farag," said the Inspector.
He did not guess how his path had been prepared. The village was widely awake. Farag, in loose, flowing garments, quite unlike a kennel huntsman's khaki and puttees, leaned against the wall of his uncle's house. "Come and see the afflicted of God," he cried musically, "whose face, indeed, resembles that of Bigglebai." The village came, and decided that on the whole Farag was right.
This is madness!" "It is so written," they answered like a pack. "Listen," said the Inspector smoothly. "I know who caused the writings to be written and sent. He is a man of a blue-mottled jowl, in aspect like Bigglebai who ate unclean matters. He will come up the river and will give tongue about the beatings." "Will he impeach our land-titles? An evil day for him!"
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