'Is the Maharaja a thief, or a robber,' the Bara Rani flared up, 'that he should be set upon so by the police? Go and tell the Inspector that the Maharaja is at his bath.'
'Let me just go and see what is the matter,' I pleaded. 'It may be something urgent.'
'No, no,' my sister-in-law insisted. 'Our Chota Rani was making a heap of cakes last night. I'll send some to the Inspector, to keep him quiet till you're ready.' With this she pushed me into my room and shut the door on me.
I had not the power to resist such tyranny,—so rare is it in this world. Let the Inspector while away the time eating cakes. What if business is a bit neglected?
The police had been in great form these last few days arresting now this one, now that. Each day some innocent person or other would be brought along to enliven the assembly in my office-room. One more such unfortunate, I supposed, must have been brought in that day. But why should the Inspector alone be regaled with cakes? That would not do at all. I thumped vigorously on the door.
'If you are going mad, be quick and pour some water over your head—that will keep you cool,' said my sister-in-law from the passage.
'Send down cakes for two,' I shouted. 'The person who has been brought in as the thief probably deserves them better. Tell the man to give him a good big helping.'
