He is a writer of tales for a certain Colonel.

His honour is great only in Simla, and it is noticeable that he has no name, but only a number and a letter--that is a custom among us.' 'And is there a price upon his head too--as upon Mah--all the others ?' 'Not yet; but if a boy rose up who is now sitting here and went--look, the door is open!--as far as a certain house with a red-painted veranda, behind that which was the old theatre in the Lower Bazar, and whispered through the shutters: "Hurree Chunder Mookerjee bore the bad news of last month", that boy might take away a belt full of rupees.' 'How many ?' said Kim promptly.
'Five hundred--a thousand--as many as he might ask for.' 'Good.

And for how long might such a boy live after the news was told ?' He smiled merrily at Lurgan's Sahib's very beard.
'Ah! That is to be well thought of.

Perhaps if he were very clever, he might live out the day--but not the night.

By no means the night.' 'Then what is the Babu's pay if so much is put upon his head ?' 'Eighty--perhaps a hundred--perhaps a hundred and fifty rupees; but the pay is the least part of the work.