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Mrs. Chabowski took an infinite delight in ironing the precious seven yards silk of Shri Nathji’s turban. And it was a grand sight, the tall Colonel Chabowski walking down the streets of London behind Shri Nathji, like a dutiful ADC-a bodyguard-in attendance.
One day, when Shri Nathji was not in the house, the Chabowskis heard a knock on their door, and the voice of Shri Nathji calling out:
Mr. and Mrs. Chabowski!
They went to the door. No on was there. But the voice had been unmistakably that of Shri Nathji.