"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!"
"That narrow teak door, down the passage?"
But the babu was gone, hurrying as if goaded by fear of hell and all
its angels.
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