Confessions of a Thug. Taylor Meadows

      "Agreed," said all the fellows; "a bargain, by Alla! a few rupees, and you may take any one you please, the Nuwab's harem too to boot, though there is not much in it by all accounts."

      "Who is your wughyra, your officer?" said I; and one of the men stepped out. "I am he, may it please your nobility, and I can wink at an honest fellow's doings as well as another."

      "Provided you are paid for it," said I.

      "Of course," said he, laughing; "we are lucky when chance throws gentlemen like you in our way."

      "Here then," said I, "are five rupees, to entertain yourselves with; and see that you don't get drunk, or the blame will fall on us."

      "May your condescension increase!" cried the whole; "we are your worship's devoted servants."

      "Now how do you mean to get out?" asked Bhudrinath as we passed on.

      "Not this way," said I, "if I can help it, for there will be a disturbance about the matter; and if we go out here it will give a clue to our discovery. We will try the other gate first."

      "I will lay a wager they are all drunk in an hour," said he, "and we may then open the gate for ourselves; but here is the Bhutteara's shop, and those kabobs smell very savoury; I sometimes wish I was not a Brahmin, that I might eat them as you do."

      "Ah," said I, "it is well for you to say that; but perhaps they may have proved too tempting at some time or other."

      "By Krishna! I swear you wrong me," cried he; "Brahmin I am, and will be; you know my creed tells me that I have been successively transformed through every grade of suffering humanity, and now that I have reached the top, I am not such a fool as to descend to the bottom and undergo the whole pain over again for the sake of a few kabobs."

      "You are right," said I; "nevertheless I will try them; I could not eat when I wished at my tent, but their smell has raised my appetite wonderfully." And in a short time my fingers were pretty deep in a smoking dish of kicheree and kabobs, as hot as pepper could make them.

      "Friend Bhutteara," said I when I had done, "surely the Shitan himself must visit your shop now and then, for no other could eat those scraps of meat, except he had a mouth of brass."

      "I beg pardon," said the fellow, "but I was away on business, and I suspect my daughter must, as you say, have put too much pepper in them; but I can make my lord a cup of sherbet, a poor imitation of what true believers will drink in Paradise, and it will cool his mouth."

      "And a hookah, if you please," said I, "then I shall feel more comfortable."