Promptly into the butler's sash behind went fingers used to delving into
more unmilitary improprieties than any ten civilians could think of. Tripe
produced the thousand-rupee note in less than half a minute and, whether
or not he believed it stolen, saw through the plan and laughed.

"Is my name on the back of it?" Yasmini asked.

Tom Tripe displayed the signature, and Chamu's clammy face
turned ashen-gray.

"And," said Yasmini, fixing Chamu with angry blue eyes, "the commissioner
sahib is on the veranda! For the reputation of the English he would
cause an example to be made of servants who steal from guests in
the house of foreigners."

Chamu capitulated utterly, and wept.

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" he demanded.

"In the jail," Yasmini said slowly, "you could not spy on my doings, nor
report my sayings."

"Heavenborn, I am dumb! Only take back the money and I am dumb
forever, never seeing or having seen or heard either you or this sahib
here! Take back the money!"

But Yasmini was not so easily balked of her intention.

"Put his thumb-print on it, Tom Tripe, and see that he writes his name."