"Mr. Iyer," said he, "am I head clerk of the district office or head clerk of the police office, eh? Answer me, eh?" The stout Madrassee clerk looked at a fellow, who looked at another, and then, as if by one impulse, the whole room arose and crowded around Pozendine. "Am I," repeated Anthony, "head clerk of the district office or of the police office?" "You're chief clerk," hazarded Mr. Rozario. "Yes," assented Anthony, "I am the chief clerk. I have served gov'ment twentee-four years, and now Mr. Hawkshawe he sends for me and tells me before a menial servant that I know nothing. Why, I taught four deputy commissioners their work! Who writes revenue report? Who writes notes on crops? Who makes tabular statements? Who drafts to commissioner and revises administration report? Who attends to district roads? Who sees to cess collections, budget work, record and despatch, stamps and stationery, office routine and discipline, eh? Who? Who? Who? And now Mr. Hawkshawe he sends for me to look over Mr. Drage's report on police. 'Pozendine,' he says, 'you're a damfool'--call me, Anthony Pozendine, head clerk of the district, _damfool!_ 'Sir,' I said, 'that's Mr. Drage's order,' and he say, 'You ought to have been able to tell Mr. Drage what to write.' 'See,' he say, 'now that Mr. Drage has gone on leave nothing can be done about this, and it will give beastly trouble--and now be off with you, infernal idiot!' _Damfool and infernal idiot!_ I will report to commissioner at once by wire through assistant commissioner and resign. Now you go on with your work." He flung himself down into his seat and began to scribble a long complaint to Jackson about the treatment he had received from Hawkshawe. There was much irrelevant matter in it, and his pen fairly hissed along the paper. While he was thus engaged the Madrassee clerk Iyer rose softly and, stealing toward Pozendine, whispered in his ear. It was like one devil tempting another, and Anthony's face was perfectly satanic in its expression of glee as he listened. "Plenty witness--Ma Mie's sister my wife," murmured Iyer, and his yellow eyes twinkled like two evil stars. Pozendine nodded his head. "Ah, ha! Mr. Hawkshawe, you call me damfool--I will brand you dam' blaggard!" he hissed out aloud as his busy fingers travelled over the paper and Iyer went back to his seat. The Madrassee watched his superior keenly from his chair, and a wicked smile stole over his features as he half expressed his thoughts. "Pozendine will get sack, and I will become chief clerk." He then placidly put up a memo. for orders on the subject of the wasteful extravagance in blue pencil indulged in by the district engineer. * * * * * "I can not stand that beast of a head clerk, Jackson," and Hawkshawe, flinging himself into a chair, pulled out a long brown-leather cheroot case and extracted a gigantic cheroot therefrom.