“I remember something of that. I remember Bulaki Ram giving me the papers to sign, and I distinctly remember him locking up the money in the safe--two hundred and ten beautiful English sovereigns. You don't know what that meant to me! I believe it cured my fever; and as soon as I could, I staggered off with the Hajji to interview the Sheshaheli about labour. Then I found out why they had been so keen to work! It wasn't gratitude. Their big village had been hit by lightning and burned out a week or two before, and they lay flat in rows around me asking me for a job. I gave it 'em.” “And so you were very happy?” His mother had stolen up behind us. “You liked your cotton, dear?” She tidied the lump away. “By Jove, I was happy!” Adam yawned. “Now if any one,” he looked at the Infant, “cares to put a little money into the scheme, it'll be the making of my District. I can't give you figures, sir, but I assure--” “You'll take your arsenic, and Imam Din'll take you up to bed, and I'll come and tuck you in.” Agnes leaned forward, her rounded elbows on his shoulders, hands joined across his dark hair, and “Isn't he a darling?” she said to us, with just the same heart-rending lift to the left eyebrow and the same break of her voice as sent Strickland mad among the horses in the year '84. We were quiet when they were gone. We waited till Imam Din returned to us from above and coughed at the door, as only dark-hearted Asia can. “Now,” said Strickland, “tell us what truly befell, son of my servant.” “All befell as our Sahib has said. Only--only there was an arrangement--a little arrangement on account of his cotton-play.” “Tell! Sit! I beg your pardon, Infant,” said Strickland. But the Infant had already made the sign, and we heard Imam Din hunker down on the floor: One gets little out of the East at attention. “When the fever came on our Sahib in our roofed house at Dupé,” he began, “the Hajji listened intently to his talk. He expected the names of women; though I had already told him that Our virtue was beyond belief or compare, and that Our sole desire was this cotton-play. Being at last convinced, the Hajji breathed on our Sahib's forehead, to sink into his brain news concerning a slave-dealer in his district who had made a mock of the law. Sahib,” Imam Din turned to Strickland, “our Sahib answered to those false words as a horse of blood answers to the spur. He sat up. He issued orders for the apprehension of the slavedealer. Then he fell back. Then we left him.” “Alone--servant of my son, and son of my servant?” said his father. “There was an old woman which belonged to the Hajji. She had come in with the Hajji's money-belt. The Hajji told her that if our Sahib died, she would die with him. And truly our Sahib had given me orders to depart.” “Being mad with fever--eh?”