Foster. Yes, I do.
Nawab. Who is she?
Foster. She is Shaibalini—Chandra Shekhar's wife.
Nawab. How do you come to know her?
Foster. You better inflict on me any punishment you like—I will not give any answer to this question.
Nawab. It is my desire to see you torn into pieces by hounds.
Foster grew pale—his limbs began to tremble with fear. He got over his nervousness a little after and said,
"If it is your desire to put an end to my life, pray, order any other form of capital punishment."
Nawab. No. Tradition has it, that in by-gone days the practice among the rulers was to bury alive a culprit, sentenced to capital punishment, up to the waist, and then let loose at him trained dogs to tear him limb by limb. After each attack of the fearful hounds, salt used to be showered upon the wounds of the unfortunate victim. The dogs would go away when they had satisfied their hunger with the culprit's flesh, and the man would be left in that miserable plight,
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