From inside the rest house came the sound of the bathroom door shutting and opening. Hukum Chand got up and shouted at the bearer to bring in breakfast.

The girl sat on the edge of the bed with her chin in her hands. She stood up and covered her head with the loose end of the sari. When Hukum Chand sat down in the chair, she sat down on the bed again with her eyes fixed on the floor. There was an awkward silence. After some time Hukum Chand mustered his courage, cleared his throat and said, ‘You must be hungry. I have sent for some tea.’

The girl turned her large sad eyes on him. ‘I want to go home.’

‘Have something to eat and I will tell the driver to take you home. Where do you live?’

‘Chundunnugger. Where the Inspector Sahib has his police station.’

There was another long pause. Hukum Chand cleared his throat again. ‘What is your name?’

‘Haseena. Haseena Begum.’

‘Haseena. You are haseen. Your mother has chosen your name well. Is that old woman your mother?’

The girl smiled for the first time. No one had paid her a compliment before. Now the Government itself had called her beautiful and was interested in her family.

‘No, sir, she is my grandmother. My mother died soon after I was born.’

‘How old are you?’

‘I don’t know. Sixteen or seventeen. Maybe eighteen. I was not born literate. I could not record my date of birth.’

She smiled at her own little joke. The magistrate smiled too. The bearer brought in a tray of tea, toast and eggs.

The girl got up to arrange the teacups and buttered a piece of toast. She put it on a saucer and placed it on the table in front of Hukum Chand.

‘I will not eat anything. I have had my tea.’

The girl pretended to be cross.

‘If you do not eat, then I won’t eat either,’ she said coquettishly. She put away the knife with which she was buttering the toast, and sat down on the bed.

The magistrate was pleased. ‘Now, do not get angry with me,’ he said. He walked up to her and put his arms round her shoulders. ‘You must eat. You had nothing last night.’

The girl wriggled in his arms. ‘If you eat, I will eat. If you do not, I will not either.’

‘All right, if you insist.’ Hukum Chand helped the girl up with his arm around her waist and brought her to his side of the table. ‘We will both eat. Come and sit with me.’

The girl got over her nervousness and sat in his lap. She put thickly buttered toast in his mouth and laughed when he said ‘Enough, enough,’ through his stuffed mouth. She wiped the butter off his moustache.

‘How long have you been in this profession?’

‘What a silly question to ask! Why, ever since I was born. My mother was a singer and her mother was a singer till as long back as we know.’