‘He’s in jail. Where else can he be?’

‘The Great Guru. The Great Guru. Who has been born to put my child in jail! What did he do?’

‘Murder, what else! I can no longer show my face to anyone. All my life’s work has been thrown into a well.’

‘The True, The True, The Great Guru.’

They went into the sitting room. After a few minutes, Sabhrai regained her composure and asked her husband to explain what had happened. Buta Singh did so in a bitter voice, mincing no words. He ended on a note of self-pity. ‘All my years of loyal service thrown into the well . . . . Just when I am due to retire and expect to be rewarded, my son cuts my nose. I wouldn’t be surprised if the little land we have in reward for services were confiscated and I were given no pension. I do not understand this complete lack of regard for one’s parents. And Champak must have known about his goings on with these bad characters. I wouldn’t be surprised if that rascal Madan were one of them. To whom can I show my face now?’

Champak began to sob once more. Sabhrai spoke sharply. ‘You are only concerned with yourself. Don’t you want to save your child’s life?’

The snub had a salutary effect on Buta Singh’s temper. He relapsed into a sullen silence.

‘What are we to do?’ asked Beena at last.

‘I don’t know. I’ve gone mad,’ replied her father.

‘We shall have a non-stop reading of the Granth for two days and nights. The Guru will be our guide,’ said Sabhrai quietly.

‘Yes, yes,’ commented Beena impatiently, ‘we will do that, but we must do something about getting Sherji out of jail. Have you been to see him?’ she asked her father.

‘No. I don’t want to see him.’

Champak’s sobs became louder. Sabhrai put her arms round her. Buta Singh felt guilty. ‘If the Deputy Commissioner had not been so kind to me, the police would have beaten him straight. Even now, he has promised that if Sher tells them all about the crime, he will grant him the King’s pardon.’

‘Will he have to give the names of his accomplices?’ asked Sabhrai.

‘The police already know about them; they know everything. These other chaps were probably the ones to implicate Sher. It is only by the Deputy Commissioner’s kindness that Sher can avail himself of the King’s pardon. The others would give anything to have the other offer made to them.’

‘Will he have to become an informer?’ asked Beena.

Buta Singh got angry again. ‘These are stupid words. I am telling you that the police don’t need an informer; they know everything. They are only willing to give Sher an excuse to save his life because the Deputy Commissioner is keen to help him.’