After hearing the story of Shibprakash and its vicissitudes of ownership, he asked:—­

“How much will you pay me if I win your case?”

Glancing at Bipin, Samarendra answered hesitatingly, “Well, I might go as far as fifty rupees”.

“Nonsense,” was the rejoinder.  “I won’t take a pice less than Rs. 100.”  After several minutes wasted on haggling, it was agreed that Asu Babu should be paid Rs. 40 on the nail and Rs. 35 more if he won the suit.  The pleader pocketed this first instalment, and assured Samarendra that he would prove the sale to have been perfectly valid.  Then the trio separated, Samarendra returning to Bipin’s house where they passed the day in forming plans for further purchases.

At 10.30 on the morrow, both attended at the Collectorate and found that the Shibprakash objection stood first for hearing.  It was opened by the appellant’s pleader, who rose armed with a huge account book and bundle of receipts, in order to prove that his client owed nothing to Government, and that the sale proceedings were a blunder from beginning to end.  Asu Babu waited till his turn came, and then informed the Collector that he would find, on examining his books, that the appellant was Rs. 1 11. 0. in arrears at the date of the sale.  The Collector ordered his head clerk to produce the ledger account of payments on account of the Shibprakash estates, and, sure enough, they showed a short payment of the amount stated.  This was a thunderbolt for the appellant, whose pleader vainly tried to pick holes in the accounts, but was at last obliged to confess that a mistake had been made.  The only course open to him was to sue for mercy.  The Collector, however, was inexorable, and indeed he had no power to mitigate the Draconian law of sale.  That of Shibprakash was duly confirmed, and its new owner adjourned to the bar library to settle matters with his pleader.  The meeting was joyful indeed.  After congratulating Asu Babu on his unexpected success, Samarendra asked how he had managed it.  The pleader at first refused to gratify his curiosity, but yielded to entreaty.  “The tiger has a jackal,” he said, “and I, who cannot stoop to dirty tricks myself, have a certain mukhtiar (the lowest grade of advocates) who is hand-in-glove with all the amlas (clerks) and can twist them round his finger—­for a consideration.  I gave him Rs. 10 out of the advance money and promised as much more if he could persuade the Collectorate clerks to cook the appellant’s accounts, so as to show a short payment.  You see how well he has succeeded, and now I think the least you can do is to refund the douceur to me.”  Samarendra agreed and handed Asu Babu Rs. 55, prophesying that he would have a brilliant career at the bar.