It was a wet and stormy night. Tenali who had come into the inn was drenched to the skin. He made his way to the fireplace but there were several villagers warming themselves in front of the fire and he could not go near it. As he stood there shivering, the landlord who knew him slightly welcomed him and asked him why he was looking so sad. “I have lost a purse containing twenty gold florins,” said Raman. “Where did you lose it?” asked the landlord, as the men who had been standing in front of the fire gathered around them. “Within a mile of this place, I’m sure,” said Raman. “I’ll go in search of it next morning. Nobody is likely to travel by that road in this weather and the purse will certainly be there till morning.” “If I were you…” began the landlord. “Yes, yes, what would you have done?” interrupted one of the men.
“Let us warm ourselves by the fire. See, everybody has left,” Tenali said to the landlord.
