"Much," said the sardar with the same despondency, "much that may send both you and me across the black waters. Me they shall not catch. This hour is my last at Radhaganj. But you have done well by us, and it shall never be said we did ill by you. So I came to give you a warning."
So saying the bandit vanished into the thicket without waiting for a reply.
Mathur Ghose turned back and regained the house. For a couple of hours he sat musing deeply. His was a strong mind, and speedily regained courage. The police was venal and corrupt; his wealth was vast; he would buy up the police. There was one hitch in the scheme. A shrewd and restlessly active Irishman sat in the district station as Magistrate, and it was his besetting sin to be meddling with everything. He was constantly shaking out ugly affairs of the police. But Mathur Ghose promised himself to see that Bhiku should recant before the meddlesome Irishman.
His meditations were interrupted by some one bounding into the room, dripping with rain, and bespattered with mud. It was one of his trustworthy agents employed in the Zila Courts.
"Fly, master, fly!" said the man, "you have not a moment to lose."
"How so?" asked Mathur, bewildered at this new warning.
"One Bhiku has this day at eleven o'clock confessed to the Magistrate to dacoities and other
