inspector of a district, and a personage of
some consequence. The same course of fees,
bribery, and presents, was carried on as of
old; but on a larger scale. His career was,
however, no longer smooth and unruffled.
Anxieties and cares stole upon the now great
man's life, to which he had before been an
utter stranger; and although he did contrive
by dint of stratagem and well-matured policy
to extricate himself from every fresh difficulty
as it arose, it entailed upon him great
watchfulness.

Murders had become very frequent in
his new district, and the attention of the
superior authorities had been seriously called
to the subject. Just at that period a report
was sent in from a village to the effect that
a trader of some consequence had disappeared
in a mysterious manner, and no tidings
of him could be learnt. The magistrate
resolved to show his zeal in the cause, and
accordingly ordered Lallah to bring the
guilty parties to justice, under penalty of
forfeiture of his office. The thannadar set to
work in right good earnest, with every
instrument at his disposal. Fields, rivers,
houses, hedges, jungle, forest—all were
searched, but in vain; no trace of the
murdered man could be found, and for once
Lallah was at fault.

A thannadar of a low and grovelling nature
would have reported his failure to his superior;
but not so Lallah. The Sahib wanted
evidence and a prisoner, and he was resolved
to provide the same at all hazards.

By some means Lallah ascertained that in
the same village in which the missing man
had resided, there dwelt another trader who
was largely indebted to the supposed victim,
and who was known to be a man of violent
temper and loose habits. This was the very
man for the thannadar. Who more likely to
have made away with the trader than his
debtor of ill-repute? Had Lallah advertised
in the Mofussilite under the heading of
"Wanted, a Murderer," he could not have
succeeded more to his wishes.

The shopkeeper was apprehended, together
with his wife. Witnesses were of course
forthcoming, who swore by every Hindu
deity that they had heard the prisoners
and the missing man at high words, and
that when last seen the latter was in
company with the former. So far so good; but
the prisoners denied their guilt to Lallah,
and that was a difficulty that had to be
overcome. They were confined in a deep pit
up to their waists in putrid filth during a day
and night. On the following day they were
exposed to the burning rays of a tropical sun;
and when, parched and feverish, they called
faintingly for water, a bag of dry and broken
chillies or capsicums was shaken over their
heads, the fierce dust from which, piercing
into their eyes and down their throats, drove
the miserable creatures almost mad. Human
nature could not stand up against such treatment:
the rack and the wheel were mercy
to such torture; and in their agony they
confessed to the commission of the crime in the
presence of witnesses, and offered their
signatures to a statement to that effect.

The case was thus in excellent condition,
and Lallah took it in triumph before the
magistrate, who was equally pleased at the
result. The examination of the witnesses was
very brief, and the case was sent up to the
sessions judge.

Before the higher tribunal little more was
done than recapitulating the proceedings of
the magistrate's court; and although no body
had been found, no bloody weapon had been
produced, no one had ever witnessed the
deed, the prisoners were found guilty, and
sentenced to be hung. This sentence had
necessarily to be affirmed by a court of
appeal, which body sent the case back to the
judge, directing his attention to the fact that
he had forgotten to ask the prisoners to plead
to the indictment, and had not examined any
witnesses on their behalf, though they
appeared to have had some! The judge went
through the form of asking the prisoners to
plead, and they as a last hope pleaded "Not
guilty." No witnesses appearing, the case
was again sent up for affirmation, when,
fortunately for the condemned couple, the
superior tribunal decided that, owing to the
plea of "Not guilty," and the absence of all
direct evidence, the criminals should not be
hung, but merely imprisoned for life, first
being branded on the forehead as felons.

So far all was well; Lallah was rewarded,
and the magistrate praised for his activity.
But some few months after the murdered
man turned up. He had been keeping out
of the way for some private reasons, and
returned on hearing of the trial and sentence of
his supposed murderers. The latter were, of
course, set free; but no pardon could erase the
felon-brand from their foreheads. The accused
man died broken-hearted soon afterwards,
having first related how he had been tortured
into a confession, though, in doing so, he did
not dare to implicate the powerful Lallah.
The big scoundrel escaped, and the little ones
were punished by dismissal.

A year or two of these duties, and Lallah felt
anxious to be relieved of them. His wealth had
accumulated to an extent that warranted him
in starting in quite a different career. He
next appeared at Calcutta in the character of
banian, or money-lender; a wide and fruitful
field for gain. Here Lallah Ram Sing figured
as a man of immense wealth and influence;
and, truly, few possessed more advantages
than he did. He soon contrived to get a
dozen of the Calcutta officials deeply in his
books, and once there he knew how to turn
them to account. They were too needy to
refuse him any favour, or to decline to
become parties to jobs, however barefaced; and
in this way the bean-stalk grew so strong
that Lallah was enabled to climb nearly to