From the outset, Arthur made it clear to his officers and officials of the Company that there had been too many beatings of Indians on the flimsiest of pretexts. He had witnessed Europeans thrashing water-carriers for being too slow in their duties, or even for failing to understand an instruction.They had been beaten with a wanton cruelty that would not have been tolerated if it had been given to a dumb animal back in England. In future, Arthur ordered, all such beatings would result in disciplinary action and the victims would be paid damages. His decree was met by vocal resentment amongst the officers of the Company battalions, who had grown accustomed to casual brutality after long years of service in India. Then, one day, Purneah came to the Dowlut Baugh in the company of a native woman. As soon as Fitzroy announced their arrival Arthur had them admitted to his office, bowing his head respectfully to each in turn.

‘How may I help?’

Purneah indicated the woman. ‘Sahib, this is the widow of Basur, a goldsmith who was one of General Harris’s camp followers. He died of his injuries last month. She wants justice.’

‘Injuries?’ Arthur raised his eyebrows.

‘He was attacked by a customer for failing to deliver a commissioned piece on time,’ Purneah explained. ‘He had been ill, and could not work for several days.When he returned to his workshop, the English officer who had paid for the piece was there. He was angry, very angry, sahib, and picked up one of Basur’s tools - a mallet - and began to beat him with it. Only when Basur was insensible did the man stop and leave the workshop.’ He nodded to the woman.‘His wife found him there when he did not return home at the end of the day. There was not much that could be done for him and he died a few days later.’

Arthur felt sick, before he felt fury at the officer who had done this. He called out for Fitzroy and when his aide entered the office, he instructed him to take notes, before turning his attention back to Purneah.

‘What is the name of this officer?’

‘Lieutenant William Dodd, of the East India Company, sahib.’

Arthur vaguely recalled the name, but could not put a face to him. He spoke to the woman. ‘Do you know which battalion Lieutenant Dodd belonged to?’