s lied!"

"What!" asked Samarendra beside himself with indignation. "Is my
wife a liar and are you a Judisthir?" (the elder of the five Pandav
brothers, heroes of the Mahabharata). "You are a creature without
shame!" So saying, he shook his fist at Nagendra who started from
his seat as if to attack him. Luckily a respectable neighbour came
in at the very nick of time and separated the would-be combatants.

On the morrow, Nagendra told his brother curtly that these perpetual
bickerings must be avoided at all cost, and that the only course open
to them was to separate. Samarendra raised not the slightest objection,
and from that day forward two distinct establishments were set up
in the same house. It only remained to divide the estates equally,
and as a preliminary step Nagendra asked for accounts during the last
three years. They were furnished in a few weeks, and he spent several
nights in examining them carefully, taking lists of defaulters in
order to verify them by independent inquiry.

While returning home, one evening, from supper at a friend's house,
he met a Mohammadan ryot who, according to the accounts, was heavily
in arrears of rent. He paused and, after acknowledging the man's salam,
remarked that he ought to make an effort to pay a part at least of what
was due. The ryot stood aghast with surprise, but invoked Allah to
witness that he had paid up every pice, adding that he held Dakhilas
(rent receipts) from Bara Babu (the elder brother) which would prove
his assertion. Nagendra asked him to call next day with the receipts
in question.

When the man presented himself, Nagendra, in his brother's
presence, asked for the arrears of rent shown in the jama wasil baqi
(accounts). Again the ryot affirmed that he owned nothing and appealed
to the Bara Babu for corroboration. Samarendra was taken aback.

"Yes," he stammered, "you did pay me something about a month ago."

"Why do you say 'something,' Babu? You know quite well that I
discharged my rent in full; and what is more I have receipts." So
saying he untied a knot in his gamcha (wrapper) and extracted some
greasy papers, which he flourished in Samarendra's face, shouting,
"Will you swear by your gods that these are not in your writing?"

Nagendra took the receipts, which bore his brother's signature. The
latter looked somewhat sheepish as he answered: "My memory failed me;
I now recollect receiving our rent from you."

Nagendra turned sharply on his br