CHAPTER III.
LATE in the evening Brahmânanda returned from writing the will. He found Hara Lâl waiting for him. The latter said—
"What has been done?"
Brahmânanda was a lover of poetry. With a forced smile he said[1]—
"When high my hands I raised, the moon to seize intent,
They struck the Babla tree, its thorns my fingers rent."
Hara. "You have not been able to do it?"
Brahm. "There were so many difficulties—"
Hara. "You could not manage it?"
Brahm. "No, I could not. Take your forged will, take your money." So saying, Brahmânanda took the note for Rs. 500 from the box, and handed it over with the counter-
- ↑ See Appendix, Note 2.
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