d gravely: "I did not think
that one whom I trusted with my cheque-book would act thus. Now you
will search your books, to see whether they contain a record of any
payment of the kind, and return with them in half an hour. But I must
warn you that if this forgery is traced to you, I shall have to call
in the police."

Pulin staggered back to his room in despair and observed that Gyanendra
and Lakshminarain, who sat at the next desk, were evidently enjoying
his mental agony. Alas! the books showed no trace of any payment
to Tarak Ghose & Co. He wrung his hands in great distress and
sat bewildered, until Ramtonu came to summon him to the manager's
tribunal. In the corridor Ramtonu glanced round, to make sure that
no one was within hearing, and said, "Don't be afraid, Babuji. You
did me a good turn, and I may be able to help you now."

This Ramtonu was an office menial hailing from the district of Gaya,
in Behar. He was an intelligent man, but rather unlicked, and was
the butt of the younger clerks, who delighted in mocking his uncouth
up-country dialect. Pulin, however, had never joined in "ragging"
him, and, on one occasion, he lent Ramtonu Rs. 7 for his wife, who
was about to increase the population of Gaya. Gratitude for kindness
is a marked trait in the Indian character, and Pulin bethought him
of the old fable of the Lion and Mouse. He asked: "Why, what do you
know about lekha-para (reading and writing)?"

"Never mind," rejoined Ramtonu. "We must not loiter, for we should
be suspected of plotting together. Come to the Saheb's room. I shall
be admitted, for he knows that I don't understand English. All I ask
is that you will clasp your hands as a signal when I may come forward
and tell my story."

A European police officer was seated by Mr. Henderson's side, engaged
in writing from his dictation. They looked up, and the manager asked
whether Pulin had found any record of the payment in dispute.

On receiving a negative answer, he said: "Then I shall be obliged to
hand you over to the police".

Pulin clasped his hands in a mute appeal for mercy, whereon Ramtonu
stepped forward. Carefully extracting a folded sheet of foolscap from
the pocket of his chapkan (a tight-fitting garment, worn by nearly all
classes in full dress), he spread it out on the table and respectfully
asked the manager to run his eye over it.

"By Jove," remarked the latter, with great surprise, "here's some
one has been copying my signature-