t
Bimjee, the village barber!

"Hastily consigning Devaka to the care of women standing by, I hurried
forward.

"'Sheikh Ahmed is in that house,' I cried, 'probably overpowered by the
smoke. We must save him. Who will come with me?'

"All remained silent. Then some one called out:

"'It is no use, Chunda Das. It is impossible, the walls are falling.'

"But at that very instant the Sheikh appeared through the clouds of
smoke rolling from the doorway. He tottered forward, bearing in his arms
a large bundle wrapped in a cotton quilt. Outstretched hands caught him
as he fell, and carried him away from the burning ruins, for the walls
had now indeed collapsed.

"Neighbours vied with each other in offers of help. Baji Lal and Devaka
were taken to one house. Sheikh Ahmed and myself went to another. The
barber had recovered, and had quietly departed for his own home.

"Next day I sent round word that all the villagers were to come to the
usual place of public gathering, the widespread pipul tree. No second
bidding was required; the open space was soon crowded, right to the edge
of the tank and to the wall of the temple.

"When all were assembled, with Sheikh Ahmed, Baji Lal and Devaka, also
Bimjee the barber, standing by me, I faced the throng.

"'Good people,' I said, 'our worthy friends, Baji Lal and his wife, have
been publicly disgraced. They are now to be publicly reinstated as
honoured members of the community. Sheikh Ahmed will explain the sobbing
and wailing that used to distress them just as much as it mystified you
all, and eventually caused suspicion of an abominable crime. Listen to
the story Sheikh Ahmed has to tell.'

"As I stepped back a pace, the Sheikh came forward. His handsome
countenance beamed goodwill to all, and a murmur of friendly greeting
bore testimony to his popularity. In soft, melodious voice, he addressed
the eagerly expectant crowd.

"'I am indeed heartily grieved that through any fault of mine my kind
host and his wife Devaka should have suffered so severely. I may now
inform you that when I tarried in your midst some time ago, I was on my
way to the court of Akbar on an important mission. I was, as you know,
accompanied by a servant. I had in my possession a most valuable harp,
encrusted with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones. It had
formerly belonged to the Maharanee of Kholtan, and had been looted from
her palace during the last war. Our Emperor, the Padishah, had long