"You damned coward—why did you not call the Police?"
"I did, Gharibparwar—I shouted myself hoarse for the constables, but nobody turned up. The boys broke open the tin and scattering the biscuits on the street, began to dance on them, yelling Bundook Maro or some such thing. The Huzoor's tea was getting cold and as I had a rupee of my own in my pocket, I bought a deshi tin. The bilati tins could not be had for less than a rupee and a half, Dharamawatar."
The Sahib was convinced. "All right, I am going to see the District Magistrate at once about it. I will get these rascally boys clapped into jail"—he said, and taking his hat, marched off towards the Station Club.
The Magistrate, the Judge, the Police Superintendent and some other European officers were at the club. Some Mem-Sahibs were also present. The Judge and the Magistrate with their coats off and their shirt-sleeves tucked up, were playing a game of billiards. The Joint Magistrate, the Police Sahib and their respective wives, were playing bridge. The Civil Surgeon, with his pipe in his mouth, was turning over the leaves of the Illustrated London News. The gentlemen were drinking whisky-pegs and the ladies were sipping vermouth.
