CHAPTER XVII.

IN WHICH GREEK JOINS GREEK.

_From Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood._

The English House, Muxidavad, _Feb. ye_ 28_th._

Being now arrived at Muxidavad, madam, I take up my pen to fulfil my promise to keep Mrs Hurstwood informed of the progress made towards the release of her incomparable friend. But first, lest I would raise too high the anticipations of my kind correspondent, let me say that the three or four days I have spent in this place have brought nothing but disappointment, both private and public. We can’t obtain any news of Miss Freyne, and our natural enemies, the French, have sought the aid of the inconstant barbarian, to whom Mess. Watson and Clive taught so lately a needed lesson, to defeat our plans for their overthrow. Mrs Hurstwood won’t have forgot that, either in my last letter or in that before it, I writ that Colonel Clive had demanded permission of the Soubah to attack Chandernagore, but met with a temporising answer, which neither accorded the desired liberty nor refused it. The Colonel, taking advantage of this ambiguous quality of the Nabob’s reply, continued his preparations for the enterprise with all the speed and secrecy imaginable, considering it of prime importance to break the power of the French in Bengal before they could seize the moment of his returning to Madrass to attack our weakened factory, and ten days ago he crossed the river with his army.

But now begun a din indeed! The French writ urgent letters to the Nabob, which reached him at Augadeep,[17.01] a village some forty miles south of this place, imploring his protection against the wicked and rapacious British, and so it was, that all his favourites concurred with their entreaty. Monickchund feared that in the event of our succeeding with the French we would fall to remembering that he had possessed himself of a huge portion of the spoils of Calcutta, and request of him to disgorge it, Coja Wasseed, who manages the French trade, was naturally loath to lose his office, and the Seats, to whom the Sydabad factory is indebted in the extraordinary sum of thirteen _laacks_, were drove near distracted by the prospect of seeing themselves deprived of the hope of regaining it. Hence, when Mr Watts arrived at Houghley, he learned through Omichund, who travelled with him, from the Phousdar Nuncomar,[17.02] that the Nabob had sent two of his servants, Seen Bawboo[17.03] and Montra Mull, to Chandernagore with a present of a _laack_ of rupees, and had ordered the Houghley garrison to render the French every assistance in the event of an attack by us. This last peril was averted by the address of Omichund, who was able to bring Nuncomar over to our side by a bribe of 12,000 rupees, but on reaching Augadeep, Mr Watts discovered that to attack the French at present would only serve to precipitate a conflict with the whole army of the Soubah. The weak prince received our agent with the most violent demonstrations of displeasure, nor was it until Omichund had sworn on the foot of a Bramin, as the most solemn oath he could take, that the British had no ill designs, that Surajah Dowlah would consent to await even an explication from Colonel Clive. Urged by Mr Watts’ recommendations to prudence, the Colonel withdrew his troops, writing to the Nabob a friendly letter to assure him of our regard for his wishes. Thus the affair came to an end for the present, but with what humiliation for us and triumph for our enemies Mrs Hurstwood won’t need me to tell her.

As to Mr Watts, who shares to the full the Colonel’s suspicions of the French, I can’t but think his disappointment would have killed him, had he not found so much to be done in repairing our damaged influence at the Court. When I reached Muxidavad, he was still smarting under his defeat, and while receiving Dr Dacre in the most handsome manner, showed signs of desiring to avenge a portion of his wrongs on me. He could not well refuse me a lodging, since I carried the Admiral’s despatches, but all his words and looks exhibited the most undisguised hostility, in so much that he failed even to invite me to his table on the evening of our arrival. My revered Mrs Hurstwood will understand with what apprehension I viewed this enmity on the part of the person to whom I looked most for help in discovering my beloved, and with what resentment mingled with resolution I obeyed a summons the next morning to Mr Watts’ closet.

“Be seated, sir,” says the good gentleman, throwing a fiery glance at me. “Pray, sir, what are you doing in Muxidavad?”

“I am the bearer of Mr Watson’s despatches, sir.”

“Sir, I know that, but it don’t give you any more right here.”

“I protest, sir, you’re using very strange language towards me.”

“The Admiral is behaving monstrous strangely towards me, sir. I put my neck in a noose by coming here, endeavouring to serve the Company by my long experience of these Indians and my knowledge of their politics and customs, and he must needs spy upon me by means of an insolent Scotch----”

“Stop, sir, pray, before you utter words that I’ll be under the necessity of resenting. Permit me to say that you’re entirely mistaken in Admiral Watson’s design. True, he has honoured me with the carriage of his despatches, but only as the cloak to an errand of my own. He had no desire to spy upon you, sir, far less to interfere with your arduous labours here.”

“I’m infinitely obliged by your remarks, sir, but they’re contradicted by Mr Watson’s choosing to send his letters to the Soubah by another messenger than myself.”

“Indeed, sir, there’s no question of my delivering the despatches in person. I hope never to meet the Soubah save on a battlefield. I am instructed to hand the letters to you, to be delivered as you see fit.”

“That sounds fair enough,” says Mr Watts, regarding me with something less of suspicion, “but I should still be glad to know the reason of your presence here, sir. A _cossid_, or good Dr Dacre himself, might have served to bring the letters.”

“Why that, sir, is the very matter I desired to unfold to you. May I hope you’ll treat it as confidential, whether you approve it or not?”

“I hope, sir, you en’t come here to get us into trouble with any wild notions? But pray open your mind to me.”

“I am here, sir, on the behalf of a lady who survived the fall of Calcutta only to become a prisoner to the Moors. She contrived to throw out from her prison a paper, from which it has been gathered that she’s in the hands of the renegado Sinzaun, somewhere in this city, but we know no more than that.”

“And you hope to rescue her? Young sir, take the advice of a man that has seen more of the world than you, and let the lady alone. Whether she be a willing or a reluctant captive, you can do her no good.”

“If you had the honour of the lady’s acquaintance, sir, you’d know that no weak compliance would make of her a willing captive. If for any reason she believe it her duty to remain in captivity, I hope I won’t persecute her to leave it, but if she be detained against her will, as I can’t doubt, I would be lacking in every manly quality if I suffered her to pine in vain for a deliverer.”

“You talk very fine, sir, but what do you purpose to do?”

“Why, sir, with your kind permission, I hope to remain here, and do my utmost first to discover the lady, and then to devise means for releasing her.”

“Indeed, sir, it’s well you’re speaking to me in an unofficial manner. Do you perceive that you’re gravely purposing to place all our lives in jeopardy? This Sinzaun is very great with the Nabob, and any attempt to interfere with his women would lead to our destruction. Are you minded to rush upon your death?”

“At least not until I have rescued the lady, sir.”

“And why then, sir? But pray give a thought to me and to the other gentlemen here, and also to the Company’s business in our hands. Sure you must see I can’t permit you to raise a hornets’ nest about us, and cause the ruin of the interests committed to my charge, which are those of the British nation?”

“Nay, sir, I don’t desire to jeopardise your endeavours by any rash action of mine. I am seeking your advice in the hope of attaining my end in a secret manner. You don’t need to tell me that on any inkling of my business reaching Sinzaun he would at once convey the lady to some distant place beyond our power to discover.”

“Come, sir, I see you’re a person of sense. But tell me, has Sinzaun any reason to believe you interested in the lady?”

“To the best of my belief, sir, he has none, and I’m sure the lady won’t give him any.”

“That’s better, for I was beginning to think you had destroyed any hope of success by showing yourself in these parts. But, as it is, we may be able to do something. Since returning to Muxidavad, Sinzaun han’t appeared outside his abode, under the plea of illness, but my spies give me to understand that the Nabob has despatched him on a secret errand to Bussey. No, sir, don’t assure yourself of success too soon. You must make no appearance in the affair, but remain in this house, or attend Dr Dacre to view the sights of the city, as though you had no design in hand. For a European lodging here to set on foot enquiries regarding a woman in native custody would be to excite the town against us, and endanger our lives. You must employ some Indian as your spy, who may worm himself into an intimacy with some hanger-on of Sinzaun’s, and so discover whether your belief be well grounded. As for finding such a person, Omichund will do the business for us.”

“Pray, sir, don’t let Omichund have any hand in the matter. ’Twas he betrayed the lady into Sinzaun’s power.”

“What, sir? make no use of Omichund? Then, indeed, you must do your business for yourself as you choose, for the fellow has all our lives in his hand, and would imagine himself betrayed if we employed any one else. You may have heard that he never forgives, and I don’t pretend to desire such usage for myself as he brought on poor Mr Holwell.”

“But pray, sir, what am I to do? As a man of honour, you can’t bid me leave the lady to perish, and to appeal to the enemy for help would be a strange piece of folly.”

Mr Watts thought for a while. “Look ye here, sir,” said he; “since you have approached me in my private capacity, and as a person of honour and sensibility, I can’t but choose to advise you. You have seen my Tartar servant, Mirza Shaw[17.04] Buzbeg--unfold your history to him. Being a Musselman, he goes in and out among the townspeople as one of themselves, and he is faithfully attached to my service, since I did him a benefit eight years ago at Patna. I believe the old rascal has a wife in the city--maybe two--and women might be useful in finding out such things as you desire to know. Strike a bargain with Mirza Shaw, but don’t let him drive you too hard--though that’s a caution I need scarce offer to a gentleman of your nation--and set him to work. You may find him slow, but don’t let your impatience lead you to take any steps for yourself. If you get into any difficulty, I can give you no help--nay, I must if necessary disown and punish you, for my first consideration is my business here. The Calcutta gentlemen think fit to point the finger of scorn at me, because, say they, I surrendered Cossimbuzar without firing a shot, when twenty-four hours’ resistance would have saved Calcutta, and Surajah Dowlah has asked for me here because he believes me a mild-spirited person, harbouring no resentments. So be it. Mr Clive and Mr Watson may fight if they choose, but when the Soubah’s power is broke, ’twill be thanks to William Watts as much as to either gentleman.”

“Indeed, sir, your boldness in returning here has been much admired.”

“And not without reason, sir. There was one of my young gentlemen in the Cossimbuzar factory--Hastings is his name--who thought he would rise upon my downfall, and earn eternal gratitude as the destroyer of Surajah Dowlah. Refuging with the Dutch at Calcapore[17.05] after the troubles, he begins to plot with the Seats and others against the Nabob. That’s all very well; but my young conspirator can’t conceal his importance in having devised an actual plot, and by some indiscretion lets the affair come to the Soubah’s ears, when at once we have excursions and alarms, exit Mr Hastings from Muxidavad, and enter one more fugitive at Fulta. I think better of you, sir, than to expect you to follow such an example, but I hope you perceive I can take no official notice of your errand here, nor can’t afford to protect you should you incur the Soubah’s resentment.”

I assured Mr Watts at once of my confidence in his kindness and my prudence in making use of it, and proceeded to come to an agreement with the Usbeck Tartar by whom the good gentleman is so oddly attended. This is a shrewd fellow enough, and agreed willingly to act as my correspondent in the city, testifying a prodigious antipathy for the man Sinzaun, as an apostate that had encouraged the Nabob in his debaucheries, and introduced him to other vices than those native to the country. While waiting for any discovery of Mirza Shaw’s that may afford me a chance of action, I have made bold to offer my services to Mr Watts to assist him in the huge quantity of writing that falls to his lot, which has tended still further to conciliate his kind opinion towards me. Mrs Hurstwood has been pleased to rally me more than once upon my style in writing, but I hope she’ll grant now that I am putting it to the best use in thus placing it at the disposal of my country, and saving Mr Watts’ time, since both he and Omichund are incessantly occupied in attempting to gain over the Nabob’s intimates to our party. Ramramsing Rajah, the head of the spies, has been bought over entirely to our interests, but the rest still tend to the side of the French, although Mr Watts, with undaunted boldness, is now sending letters to Colonel Clive recommending him in the most persuasive manner to advance against Chandernagore without considering the lives of those at this agency.

_March ye_ 20_th._

I have now been near a month at this place, but alas, madam! as yet I have nothing to report as regards any success in the enterprise in which Mrs Hurstwood’s heart, no less than my own, is engaged. Mirza Shaw assures me positively that there’s no person of British birth in Sinzaun’s household, nor can he discover that such a one has at any time been a member of it. The conclusion to which we are driven is that the villain has concealed the dear sufferer in some mean and remote part of the city, desiring to possess his prize without fear either of the greed of the Nabob or the jealousy of his own seraglio, and the Tartar is now devoting his efforts to discovering such a retreat. But this is an endless task! you’ll cry. Indeed, madam, it is sufficiently appalling, but I would search Muxidavad house by house sooner than leave Miss Freyne to languish in captivity.

But if my private chronicle be destitute of events of any moment, this en’t the case with public affairs, which indeed have beset us round with so many threatening waves that we are like to find some difficulty to keep our heads above water. The first event that disturbed the current of our politic dealings with this Court was the news that arrived immediately after the despatch of my last letter, that the Mogul Emperor’s great city of Delly had been captured by an army of Pitans and Afguhans[17.06] from the north, which plunged the Soubah into the most abject fear imaginable. Apprehensive lest the Pitans would next proceed against his own rich province, he sent for Mr Watts, and besought the aid of the English against this common foe, promising to pay Colonel Clive a _laack_ of rupees a month if he would but defend him with his army. Almost at the same time came news from Calcutta of the extraordinary obstinacy of the French at Chandernagore in their negotiations with us, by which they may, indeed, be said to have rushed upon their own destruction. Willing to oblige the Nabob, and at the same time to provide for the safety of Calcutta when he should be forced to return to Madrass, Colonel Clive had proposed to the French that a strict neutrality should be observed in Bengal between the armies and fleets of the two nations, in spite of the war in England and the Carnatic. In this measure Mr Watts concurred, suggesting that the observance of the treaty by the French should be guarantied by the Seats, to whom they are so deeply indebted, and the Colonel, in order to secure the guarantie without offence, requested the Soubah to undertake it, which he did.

But when matters were adjusted thus far, the French fancied it a good chance to refuse suddenly to conclude any treaty at all, alleging that nothing they might promise would bind their head factory at Pondicherry, which is true enough, as all agreed when they remembered the breach of faith committed eleven years back at Madrass, when Mr Dupleix chose to destroy the town which his own Admiral had admitted to ransom. The recollection in itself was sufficiently sinister, but when the news came that Salabadjing, owing to our failure to support him in the Carnatic, and the diversion of our forces for the recapture of Calcutta, had been compelled to receive Mr Bussey again into favour, and hand over to him the provinces of Masulipatnam, Ganjam, and Vizagapatnam, thus bringing him within two hundred miles of Fort William by way of Cuttack, we could not doubt but the French were preparing a blow against us, and amusing us with negotiations while they collected their troops. On this our commanders lost no time in preparing to anticipate the threatened danger, Colonel Clive writing to the Nabob that he was advancing with his army to assist him against the Pitans, and halting on his way at Chandernagore, while the Admiral, who would not yet consent to act without the Prince’s leave, wrote him a letter in a very moving style, pointing out not only the presumption of the French in invoking his name as the guarantie of a treaty they had no power to conclude, but also the delay of his own subjects in fulfilling the terms of the Calcutta agreement, and threatening him with ruin and destruction if these were not performed punctually and at once. This epistle was carried to the Nabob by Mr Watts, who, finding the Prince very apprehensive alike of the Pitans and the English, took occasion to represent the ingratitude of the French to him very forcibly, wringing from him at length a permission for the attack upon Chandernagore. Of this signal triumph we were apprised by the good gentleman himself on his return from the Kella,[17.07] which is the Soubah’s palace here.

“This, gentlemen, is the first nail in Surajah Dowlah’s coffin!” he said, laying a pacquet on the table before Dr Dacre and myself. “In less than two days Colonel Clive and the Admiral may proceed to attack the French.”

“But have you succeeded in gaining the Soubah’s leave, sir?” I asked him.

“He gave me a grudging assent, sir, and foreseeing that it needed but the next comer to induce him to reverse it, I applied at once to the _Huzzoor Nevees_,[17.08] whom I had already secured by means of a genteel present, and had him write the letter of permission in a proper style, and seal it with the Soubah’s ring. The _cossid_ is now making ready to start, and the pacquet will reach Admiral Watson in thirty hours or so.”

“But en’t I to carry the letter, sir?” I asked, for the Admiral had desired my return as soon as there should be any hope of attacking the French.

“Why no, sir. Would you have me lose all my pains? You can’t travel near so fast as one of these fellows, and the passing of a European would set the whole riverside agog. ’Twould be surmised that only a pacquet of prodigious importance could demand such a messenger, and if the friends of the French didn’t detain you, at least they would delay your progress.”

“But I have Mr Watson’s orders, sir.”

“I vow, young gentleman, you’ll drive me to lock you up, for stir from here you shan’t. Don’t be afraid; I’ll assure the Admiral that you’re too useful for me to spare you, and if you lose the fight, at least you won’t be further parted from your mistress than you are.”

This consideration went some way to reconcile me to my absence from the battle I anticipated, but I can’t deny, madam, that I have been in a perfect fever since the _cossid_ left, torn one way by my duty to the Service and t’other by my affection for Miss Freyne. I am forced even to envy Dr Dacre, who remains calm amidst all the alarms surrounding us, thinking only of the _Pundit_ with whom he is studying the _Sanskerreet_[17.09] language, or of the venerable Moors whom he visits for the purpose of questioning them on their religion. Our situation is the most precarious imaginable, for only a few hours after the despatch of the letter there arrived another from the Prince, forbidding any hostile action in the most peremptory terms, which Mr Watts sent off with as little speed as he dared employ, and we understand that the Soubah is perpetually despatching messengers of his own, bearing menacing letters, to the Admiral and Mr Clive, while he has ordered Roydoolub to march with his army to the support of the French. It is our fervent hope that these discouragements will arrive too late to deter our gallant commanders, who may be trusted to have acted at once upon Mr Watts’ motion.

_March ye_ 31_st._

Our patriotic anxieties have been happily relieved, madam, by the arrival of Mr Scrafton, of the Company’s Service, on his way to Dacca, bringing news of the glorious triumph of our arms in the capture of Chandernagore, which surrendered eight days ago to Admiral Watson. Our success was not without alloy, being attended with a very heavy loss of life and great damage to the ships, while a parcel of French took advantage of the respite allowed for considering the terms of surrender to slip out and make their way to Sydabad, their factory near Cossimbuzar, where Mr Laws[17.10] has ’em concealed. So stubborn, indeed, was the enemy that we would scarce have been able to subdue them before Colonel Clive had drawn lines of investment about them on the land side, had it not been for the assistance rendered by a deserter named Mr Terrano,[17.11] who upon some affront received from the _Directeur_, Mr Renault, came over to us, and pointed out to the Admiral the only channel for the ships to pass up the river, which the French had blocked by sinking six vessels there, besides mooring two great booms across the stream with chains. In spite of this advantage the passage was so dangerous that the Kent, which suffered most, has been condemned, being an old vessel, and is fallen down to Calcutta to be broke up, while only one officer on board of her escaped unwounded, poor Billy Speke, among others, sustaining an injury that is like to be mortal by the same shot that wounded his father, the Captain.[17.12] My own ship, the Tyger, came off somewhat more lightly, although among the wounded was Admiral Pococke, who, arriving at Culpee in the Cumberland from Madrass, and finding the action imminent, was so resolute to take a share in it that he came up the river in his long-boat, and hoisted his flag on the Tyger, to the excessive mortification of Captain Latham, who saw himself cruelly deprived of the honour of fighting his ship. As for the army which the Nabob sent by Roydoolub to the assistance of the French, it was detained at Houghley by the address of our friend Nuncomar, who persuaded the commander that Chandernagore would be fallen before he could reach it. The letters sent to forbid the attack, arriving after that which permitted it, were treated by the Admiral and Colonel Clive with unconcern, a treatment accorded also, as we hear from Mr Scrafton, to Mr Drake, whose speech at the council held before starting on the expedition was so hesitating and contradictory that no one could make anything of it, and on the Colonel’s suggestion it was unanimously voted that the President’s opinion was no opinion at all.

And what (I am so vain as to imagine I hear Mrs Hurstwood cry), what of the few British left in Muxidavad at a time when their countrymen were thus defying the wrath of the tyrant? Indeed, madam, I think you’ll agree that the protection of Heaven was extremely manifest in our case, for in the midst of the raging fury of the Soubah over the news there arrived two pieces of intelligence that recalled to him his need of our protection. By means of a private messenger (his favourite Sinzaun, as we understand), he learned that Mr Bussey, who was universally believed to be marching to the support of Chandernagore, had been compelled to turn back in order to put down the troubles which were arisen, as soon as he turned his back, in that part of the Decan where the French pretend to domination. At the same time the news came that the Pitan army, having made an alliance with Balagerow,[17.13] the Maharattor general, was marching upon Behar, and in this extremity the Soubah dissembled his indignation at the capture of Chandernagore, and writing insinuating letters of felicitation to the Admiral and Colonel Clive, reminded them of their promise to assist him, and went so far as to restore a portion of the Calcutta spoils of which he had dishonestly retained possession. Nothing could exceed his obliging behaviour to Mr Watts, which he extended also to Mr Scrafton, who, being admitted to a share in the plans of Mr Watts and Omichund, was glad to find himself introduced at Court, that he might the more readily observe the demeanour of the Prince and his attendance. With such excessive affection for the British has the Soubah been filled during these last few days, that hearing from Omichund, who attends his Durbar regularly, that there was in our house here one of Admiral Watson’s officers, whom he had not seen, he chid Mr Watts for his negligence, and bade him bring the gentleman to pay his respects to him, in order that he might show favour to the servant of his dear friend, the _Armiral Dilleer-jing-behauder_,[17.14] for so they call Mr Watson, meaning the Courageous in Battles. This demand was very disagreeable to Mr Watts, who had been rejoicing in that my desire to keep out of the Nabob’s sight jumped so well with his own wishes, but he signified his compliance with a feigned air of readiness, and warned me not to let my temper get the better of me in my intercourse with the Soubah. Mrs Hurstwood will be at no loss to imagine my feelings in prospect of being confronted with this monster in human form, but since I was warned that my refusal might bring destruction upon the agency, I prepared, though with a vastly poor grace, to attend Mr Watts to the Kella, and am but now returned from the visit, which I will endeavour to describe to you, madam.

On entering the Palace we passed, before reaching the Durbar, through three great courts, each filled with a multitude of soldiers and attendants, and so came into a pretty flower-garden, planted with two rows of trees, and having channels of water running between the borders. At the end of this garden was a terrass, where the Durbar was held, and at the foot of the steps we were constrained to leave our shoes, and to make a salute in the Moorish style, by lifting our hands to our heads from the ground. On the terrass was a sort of square porch, open in front to the garden and on one side to the river, where the roof was supported on pillars hung with flowered muslin, which was caught up with cords and tassels of gold and silver. On the other two sides the walls were covered with shining white _chunam_, and ornamented with small niches, very regularly placed, while the floor was laid with fine mats, and on the wide sopha[17.15] was spread a carpet of three thicknesses of muslin. In the midst of this sopha sat the Nabob, his elbow resting on a cushion of brocade. He is a person of middle height, very black for a Moor, his eyes lively and piercing, and his countenance bearing an air of frankness. On his head was a little cap, his vest was of flowered muslin, and his Moorish trowsers of cloth of silver. On his left hand sat his brother Merzee Mundee[17.16] cross-legged on the carpet, and on his right, but at a greater distance, Roydoolub, Meer Mudden, and five or six others of his great men, the one nearest to him being a person of a dark and forbidding countenance, who pleased me even less when he smiled, which he did whenever the Nabob turned towards him, than when he wore a serious air. All this I had leisure to observe while the Nabob seated Mr Watts on his right hand, with me beyond him, and exchanged with him many compliments in the Persic language, addressing him as his dear friend Watch Siab, without having recourse to the interpreters who stood behind.

Oh, madam, you can’t fancy the sentiments that possessed me as I looked upon the man to whose tyrannic fury and insatiable avarice I owe it that my dear Miss Freyne has been torn from her paternal abode and is at this moment a prisoner among these pagans! As I regarded him the impulse seized me to spring upon him and threaten him with instant death unless he restored me my beloved; but even as I laid my hand on my sword I remembered that he might conceivably know nothing of the matter, and that such an outburst might warn the true criminal if he were present. I endeavoured to turn my glance from the Prince to the officers and guards that stood on either side, but he remarked the motion of my eyes, and said something to Mr Watts with a laugh.

“His Highness desires to be informed whether you’re always so serious of aspect, Mr Fraser,” says Mr Watts, giving me a private sign to make some civil reply, but this was beyond my power. I could only utter a confused word or two, but my chief was more ready than I. “I’ll tell him that you belong to a nation that was never known to smile,” he said, and spoke in Persic to the Nabob. While all the assembly was laughing to see me put out of countenance, the person that sat next me, and whose countenance I distrusted, leaned forward and said something smiling.

“Meer Sinzaun says that you come like a thunderstorm,” says Mr Watts to me. “He felt cold as soon as he caught sight of your gloomy countenance.”

“Pray tell him that thunderstorms bring worse things with ’em than cold, sir,” said I, wondering no longer at the dislike I had felt.

“Are you mad?” says Mr Watts, hastily. “Sinzaun is aiming to make his Highness believe you possess an evil eye.” Turning to the Nabob, he told him, as I learned afterwards, that though I bore a surly air I was well versed in military affairs.

“Aye,” says the Prince, “I would I had a regiment of men of his nation. If they were all as tall and as sour-looking as he, they would frighten away the Pitans by their looks alone,” and every one laughed at his jest. Shortly afterwards the officers of the guard appeared before the terrass to make _salam_, as they call it, each man at the head of his company, and after this Mr Watts took his leave, the Nabob bidding him farewell in the most obliging manner, but Meer Sinzaun testified by his looks the same dislike for me that I had conceived for him.

_April ye_ 30_th._

Alas, madam! I have still no news to give you of our adored Miss Freyne. It appears almost incredible that the minute enquiries and researches of Mirza Shaw should not have produced the slightest result, but so far he can tell me nothing, though once or twice of late I have observed about him an air of mystery that has made my heart leap with groundless joy. My sole comfort is that Meer Sinzaun has again been absent from the city, as we are assured in a sufficiently strange manner. Colonel Clive having demanded of the Nabob to give up Mr Laws and the fugitives from Chandernagore, the Prince sent them away as though to go to Patna, telling the Colonel that he had banished them from his dominions, but despatching to them secret instructions, as we learn, to proceed no further than Rajamahol.[17.17] They passed through Muxidavad in military array, as we ourselves beheld, having with them no less than thirty small carriages and four elephants, and Sinzaun questionless accompanied them, since we hear from Coja Wasseed that he saw him pass through Ballisore, taking with him a present of an elephant and divers jewels from the Nabob for Mr Bussey.

You’ll guess, madam, that this evasion points to a change in the Prince’s attitude towards us; and indeed the retreat of the Pitans from Delly, coupled with the Colonel’s demand for leave to attack the Sydabad factory, placed us for a time in the most imminent danger, which may be said still to continue. Finding himself no longer in need of our protection, the Nabob took occasion, on hearing that Colonel Clive had despatched a force in pursuit of Mr Laws, to give way to the most violent transports of rage, in which he drove our _vacqueel_ with ignominy from his presence, and threatened Mr Watts with death either by beheading or impaling, unless we made peace with the French or withdrew immediately to Calcutta. Mr Watts met these menaces with the greatest calmness and resolution, refusing both of the Nabob’s conditions, and obtaining leave from the Presidency to send down the treasure and effects of the agency to Calcutta in view of a fresh outbreak of war, since the Soubah has ordered Roydoolub and his troops to advance to Palassy,[17.18] which is on the way to Calcutta from here. Considering that a rupture was now inevitable, the Colonel sent Captain Grant with forty Europeans and some Tellinghys to Cossimbuzar, with several boat-loads of ammunition concealed under rice, but these were stopped and turned back at Cutwah without being able to reach us. In this melancholy and mortifying situation Mr Watts has displayed the utmost resolution and intrepidity, attending every day at the Durbar (for when he did not appear there the Nabob sent for him to come), and supporting the insults of the ungracious tyrant with all the temper and calmness imaginable, although they have preyed so sadly upon his mind that he could not have persisted in his task but for the consolation imparted by the kind letters of Colonel Clive and the Admiral. These gentlemen have themselves suffered under the waywardness of the Soubah, Colonel Clive receiving from him in one day as many as ten letters, wrote in the most opposite styles, the whole of which he has answered suitably to their contents, and with all the punctuality and complaisance in the world. At last the Nabob, perceiving, apparently, that he was alienating those who might be of service to him, changed his behaviour suddenly, and sending for our _vacqueel_, presented him with a _serpau_, summoning Mr Watts also to his presence and caressing him, seeming to consider that this condescension should atone in full for all his insulting behaviour.

But this last outbreak of the inconstant Prince has persuaded all that have to do with him that there’s no confidence to be placed in any of his assurances, and this sentiment has now spread from the British to his own courtiers, whom he has used with the utmost arrogance, heaping insults upon the Buxey, Meer Jaffier, who married his great-aunt, fining Monickchund and throwing him into prison for stealing a portion of the Calcutta plunder, placing his worthless favourite Moonloll[17.19] over the head of Roydoolub, and keeping the Seats in a perpetual apprehension lest he may deprive them suddenly of their wealth. Questionless, the youthful tyrant has prepared his own destruction. A week ago Mr Watts was approached by a Mogul named Godar Yar Caun Laitty,[17.20] who commands 2000 horse in the Soubah’s service, but is entertained by the Seats to protect them in case of danger, and was acting now upon their motion. This person, opening his mind to Omichund, who was sent to confer with him, proposed that when the Soubah, who was about to take the field at Patna against the Pitans, had started on his campaign, the British should assist Roydoolub and the Seats to seize Muxidavad, and immediately make Yar Caun Laitty Nabob, in return for which he would enter into any engagements we pleased. Almost before Mr Watts had imparted this notion to the Presidency, there comes also the Armenian Coja Petruce, bringing the same proposition from Meer Jaffier, and he having so much larger a force at his command Mr Watts inclines to him.

As though to prevent any sentiment of compunction on our part for thus plotting against him, the Nabob has thought fit to exhibit again the utmost hostility towards us. In place of removing his army from Palassy, as Colonel Clive requested him, he has patched up a peace with Meer Jaffier and sent him there with reinforcements for it. At the same time, having heard from his spy Mooteram the absurd report that in spite of his stopping Captain Grant’s detachment at Cutwah, we had half our army concealed at Cossimbuzar, he sent a mob of servants and troops to search the factory, but they found there only forty Europeans, of whom twenty were the artillerymen that were lent to him in February. More than this, we learn that he has wrote to Mr Laws requesting him to remain with his men at Boglipore[17.21] as his guests until he sends for them, and that he is despatching Sinzaun afresh to Mr Bussey to promise him twenty _laacks_ of rupees if he’ll come to his assistance, while he has stopped with stakes the entire breadth of the Cossimbuzar River at Sootey, twenty miles below this place, with the design of preventing the passage of our ships, of whose armament he cherishes the wildest notions, although they could never come up so far. Thus, madam, we are placed between an infuriated despot and a parcel of timid conspirators, all afraid the one of t’other, Meer Jaffier refusing to trust Omichund and the Seats jealous of him, while Yar Caun Laitty may at any moment revenge himself for being set aside by revealing the whole affair. ...

Madam, I must add one word to the end of this letter. We have hope at last. Mirza Shaw has just approached me with an air of the utmost secrecy, and informed me that last night he tracked Sinzaun in disguise to an obscure house on the outskirts of the city, where, as he learns from the gossip of the neighbourhood, he entertains a lady whom he has given out as his ward. She is called Nezmennessa Beeby, but she is very white, and wears an outlandish dress, so that they believe her a woman either of Persia or Cashmere, and Sinzaun talks with her through a curtain with great respect. So cautious is the fellow that no one in the vicinity knows who he is, but they believe him to be a slave-merchant, who intends a most delicate gift for the Nabob. Oh, madam, picture to yourself the horror of the situation! What’s to be done? We can’t be sure that this lady is Miss Freyne, and to rescue the wrong captive would but plunge us in fresh difficulties. How to obtain a sight of her, open communication with her--above all, how to release her? But of that I can say more when the Tartar has conducted me to-night to view the house.

_May ye_ 23_rd._

I am conscious, madam, that you’ll be justly indignant with me for leaving you so long in suspense after the affecting news contained in my last letter, though indeed I have put off writing from day to day in hopes to find something certain to communicate to you, but in vain. On the night after my letter was despatched, Mirza Shaw attended me to the house of which he had spoken, both of us wearing the Moorish dress, and we traced its extent and examined the outside walls, which are high and in good repair, and (as is common with the houses here) destitute of any openings by which a secret entrance might be effected. The only means that suggested itself to me for scaling them was a ladder of ropes furnished with a hook at one end, which might be thrown over the summit of the wall, and catching there afford us an ascent, but the Tartar objected very pertinently that without knowing who was to be found on the other side of the wall we might well terminate our lives and our hopes of rescuing Miss Freyne at once in our first attempt. Other expedients we discussed, without finding any that commended itself to our prudence, and we left it at last that Mirza Shaw was to linger in the vicinity of the house, and representing himself as a _boxwaller_,[17.22] insinuate himself into the confidence of the servants, and so perhaps gain access to Nezmennessa Beeby herself, or at least discover who she may really be.

This prudent decision has met with an incredible want of success, and I fear that had it not been for the threatening posture of public affairs your correspondent, madam, would have brought the entire enterprise to destruction by rushing hastily upon some solution of the difficulty. But events of importance have followed so close upon one another, and Mr Watts has found it needful to make such constant demands upon my humble services as scribe, that even the question of Miss Freyne’s release has been occasionally driven from the forefront of my mind. Nine days ago Mr Watts arrived at an agreement through Coja Petruce as to the treaty to be made between Meer Jaffier and the British, the Buxey assenting to all our demands, but repeating his entreaty that Omichund should not be informed of the affair. In this Mr Watts endeavoured to content him, but the old Gentoo had already been told too much to render it possible to keep him in ignorance, and was also anxious to know why no favourable answer was to be given to Yar Caun Laitty, whose proposals had at first been so warmly entertained. Finding that the disclosure could not be avoided, Mr Watts at length unfolded to him the compact with Meer Jaffier, which has roused in Omichund an implacable hatred, since he could not fail to perceive that the explication was only extorted by necessity. This passion he gratified immediately by threatening to disclose the entire scheme to the Nabob, unless the possession of one-sixth of that Prince’s jewels, and a huge _dussutary_[17.23] besides on the rest of the spoils, were secured to him by the treaty. This Mr Watts was unable to promise on his own authority, but, soothing the traitor with agreeable words, referred the matter to the Select Committee at Calcutta, while Omichund took occasion to exhibit that wild prodigality of deceitfulness in which he takes delight. Obtaining access to the Nabob, he informed him very circumstantially that he had discovered a plot between the English and Mr Bussey, who were about to unite their forces with the object of hurling him from the throne. Absurd though such a notion is, it commended itself to the Nabob, who rewarded Omichund by ordering the repayment to him of a sum of money which he had lent so long before as almost to have lost hope of receiving it again, and this was an ample satisfaction to the wily Gentoo, although Surajah Dowlah was undeceived almost immediately by the arrival of the news that Mr Bussey, far from allying himself with us, was reported by advices from Ballisore to be five days’ journey this side of Cuttack, marching against us with 700 Europeans and 5000 Seapoys.

Immediately after this, Mr Scrafton arrived suddenly from Calcutta, bearing a letter that had been delivered to Colonel Clive by a stranger Gentoo known to none of the gentlemen there, and giving his name as Govindroy.[17.24] This letter purported to be from the Maharattor leader Badgerow,[17.25] offering the Colonel an alliance for the purpose of crushing the Nabob, and it fell in so pat with our desires that no one could consent to accept it as genuine, all conceiving it to be a trick of Surajah Dowlah’s to entrap us. In this difficulty, Colonel Clive took the courageous step of sending the letter to the Nabob as a proof of our good faith, but he designed to reap the additional advantage from Mr Scrafton’s journey of establishing communications with Meer Jaffier, who had proceeded unwillingly with his army to Palassy after the Soubah’s feigned reconciliation with him. In this, however, Mr Scrafton was anticipated by the Nabob’s spies, who (whether guessing his intention or not I can’t say) turned him back and forced him to take the straight road, but the Soubah, receiving the letter, appeared much moved by the confidence reposed in him by the British, and also by the affecting remonstrances on his late unfriendly behaviour addressed to him by the Colonel, so that he ordered Meer Jaffier with his army to return to Muxidavad. But the unsteady Prince is now too late in this last change of front.

Of the course which the Council at Calcutta have thought fit to adopt with regard to Omichund’s unjust demands I can’t speak with certainty, but I fear I have a very fair notion of it. Four days back a messenger of the country brought to Mr Watts the treaty drawn up and signed by the Council, ready for presentation to Meer Jaffier, and the good gentleman enlarged to Dr Dacre and myself with a good deal of merriment on the clauses which had been added at Calcutta, stipulating for donations of money, in excess of the sums named in restitution of last year’s losses, not only to the army and the fleet, but also to each member of the Council. There was no mention of Omichund’s name, which surprised me, but before I could remark on the omission Omichund himself was announced, when Mr Watts immediately doubled up the treaty and thrust it into his breast.

“Be so good as to pass me that _lol coggedge_,[17.26] Mr Fraser,” he said, indicating a red paper that had been in the same pacquet with the white one he had just concealed. Glancing carelessly at it, I perceived that ’twas another copy of the treaty, but with a clause added, in which I saw Omichund’s name.

“Sure there’s something wrong here, sir,” I said, looking at the list of signatures; “I could swear that Admiral Watson never writ his name in that style.”

“Have I asked your opinion on the matter, sir?” says Mr Watts.

“Why, no, sir; but the hand is far liker Mr Fisherton’s than the Admiral’s.”

“You’ll oblige me infinitely if you’ll hold your tongue, sir,” said Mr Watts very angrily, as Omichund was brought in.

I did hold my tongue, for the business was none of mine, but I can’t help being persuaded that Colonel Clive and the Council have devised some plan for hoodwinking Omichund with a false copy of the treaty, which they have not dared to ask the Admiral to sign. There’s something ironically suitable, questionless, in the old deceiver’s being thus deceived; yet I can’t but regret that a body of Britons should voluntarily decline to his pagan level in order to get the better of him. The device, whatever it may be, succeeded so far that he departed satisfied; but he has since exhibited fresh apprehensions, and Mr Watts is doing his best to induce him to return to Calcutta with Mr Scrafton, under colour of removing him out of danger, but this kind solicitude is perpetually defeated by Omichund himself, whose avarice forbids him to leave Muxidavad until he has recovered certain further sums due to him, thus continuing from day to day our anxiety as to his intentions.

Mr Watts, meanwhile, continues with the greatest coolness imaginable to attend the Durbar, as though he were not in danger of being denounced as one of those who are plotting to dethrone and kill the Nabob, and is received with varying favour. Since the visit I described to you, madam, I have not attended at Court, but while waiting upon Mr Watts to the Kella, have remained in one of the anterooms until his business was finished, and there I have to-day met with a notion that I hope to employ for the rescue of our dear Miss Freyne. Waiting among the Nabob’s inferior courtiers, I observed that some of these were passing the time by listening to a person that appeared to be relating an improving history of some sort. Mr Watts’ _mounshy_ being with me, I invited him to interpret what was said, and this the story-teller took as an extraordinary great compliment, and told his tale with an eye to me, pausing between the sentences in order to leave the interpreter time. I’ll own that I was not a little disappointed at first with the narrative, which contained none of those wonders that the Easterns are wont to import into their romances. To be brief, madam, it concerned a vizier that had robbed the king his master, and was sentenced to be imprisoned without food or water in the topmost apartment of a lofty tower, there to starve to death. But happening to possess a faithful wife, the lady came by night to the foot of the tower, and desired, weeping, to know how she might gratify her unlucky spouse. “Why, my dear,” says he, “you may save me if you will.” The lady on this dried her tears, and requested the vizier’s commands. “To-morrow night,” says he, “bring here a beetle, some butter, a skein of silk, a ball of twine, and a long and stout rope, and I’ll show you how to employ ’em.” The lady came punctually the next night, bringing with her the desired articles, and at her spouse’s direction placed a small lump of butter on the head of the beetle, and fastened the end of the silk about its body, setting the insect on the wall of the tower as high up as she could reach. The beetle, discovering by the odour of the butter that there was a feast in the neighbourhood, which it judged to be somewhere in advance of itself, crawled up the side of the tower, led on perpetually by the fallacious delight, and came at last into the hand of the vizier, who unfastened the silk from its body, and desired his lady to attach the end of the twine to that of the skein. Pulling up the silk, he then obtained possession of the twine, by the means of which he next drew up the rope, and, fastening it to a pillar of his apartment, descended the tower in safety. This conclusion was much applauded by the audience, and I desired the _mounshy_ to make my compliments to the narrator, which appeared to gratify those who stood round, though it had surprised them prodigiously to guess to what a degree the fellow had really obliged me.

In order that you, madam, may understand my gratification, you must know that Mirza Shaw and I have been seriously disturbed this three weeks by the difficulty of throwing a rope (of a size sufficient to be safe to descend by) from the ground to the roof of a house without making such a clatter as to rouse the whole neighbourhood, even though we had succeeded in opening communications with Miss Freyne. The notion of a grapnel we have been forced to relinquish, owing to the tumbledown and uncertain state of the parapets even in the best houses here, which might involve us in a serious catastrophe should the wall break away. But with the new plan suggested by the tale I had heard it seemed to me that I saw my course marked out, and I opened my mind to the Tartar as soon as we were returned to the house and I could catch him alone. He did not accept my proposition with that eagerness I had anticipated, but I perceived that this was because he was piqued that the suggestion did not come from himself.

“Sure you’ve forgot the situation of the place, Siab,” says he. “The sight of two men carrying such a paraphernalia will rouse the whole quarter against us.”

“Why, as to that,” said I, “we must have the rope of silk, and I’ll wind it round me under my coat.”

“If you look to see your Beeby touch a beetle with her fingers, and fasten a rope so as ’twill be safe, and then consent to descend by it, you’re a rash man, Siab.”

“The lady will forget her feminine fears in such a case,” said I. “We must trust her to fasten the rope safe, and as soon as that’s done I’ll ascend it and lower her down.”

“But think, Siab. You’ve caught your beetle, let us say, and started him on his journey up the wall. But all beetles may not be charmed by butter, or even if he be, a beetle travels but slowly. For us to remain in an attentive posture outside a house in a frequented place until he had reached the top, would infallibly lead to our seizure by the Cotwal, even if we had not a crowd to observe our doings.”

This was, indeed, a grave objection, and one that I could not get over, since ’twas not reasonable to suppose we could control the motion of the insect to our liking. The place stands in a pretty crowded part of the city, and we could not hope the neighbours would permit us to play at house-breaking for several hours uninterrupted; while even should they prove so complaisant as to do this, their very observation would be fatal to our design. I was altogether taken aback, and stood staring at Mirza Shaw. Suddenly a notion entered my head, suggested by the narrow streets that surround on all sides the English house, on whose roof we were standing.

“Are you well acquainted with the lanes about this house of Sinzaun’s, Mirza Shaw?”

“Seeing that I have lately spent the best part of my time there I should be but a dolt if I were not, Siab,” he answered.

“Then have you observed whether in any of them there’s an empty house that might be hired? It must be a large house, as high as Sinzaun’s or even higher, and it must face it.”

“I don’t say but there might be such a place found, Siab.”

“Then hire it this very day. Tell what tale you choose, and come to me for the money.”

“Ah, I perceive your honour’s meaning.” Mirza Shaw put on a thoughtful air. “But a beetle won’t walk from roof to roof on the air, Siab.”

“No, but we’ll do without the beetle, and make our task the easier. Trust a seaman to throw a ball of twine safe across the gap.”

“But that would make a noise, Siab, if the Beeby did not catch it.”

“But a ball of woollen yarn would not, and would serve as well to pull the twine across as the Vizier’s skein of silk, if ’twas paid out gently. Go and hire the house, Mirza Shaw, and I’ll perfect my plan. I have in my head the hint of a device for the lady’s rescue.”

_June ye_ 8_th._

At length, madam, the day is arrived on which it’s possible to make a serious endeavour to open communications with Miss Freyne, and since the attempt can’t take place before nightfall, Mrs Hurstwood won’t be surprised that I have taken refuge in writing to her to escape from the tumult of my own too eager thoughts. There’s another reason also why I would set down the events of this last week, and that is, that in case our lives, Mirza Shaw’s and mine, should fall a forfeit to the audacity of our attempt, or that a general catastrophe should tear from us the fruits of victory by means of the destruction of the entire agency, Mrs Hurstwood may be assured that not the will, but only the power, was wanting for the rescue of her friend.

At the extreme end of last month the importunities of Mess. Watts and Scrafton prevailed on Omichund to allow himself to be transported from the city. The business of obtaining the Nabob’s permission he effected by feigning to claim from the Prince on behalf of the British the huge sum of money he had promised if they supported him against the Pitans, whereupon he was drove out of the palace with ignominy, and commanded to quit Muxidavad immediately. Yet when this had been happily accomplished, and the journey begun, the aged miser succeeded in evading Mr Scrafton at the first halting-place, and returned to scrape together some further petty sums that were owing to him, though he continued the journey later in the day. His departure relieves us from some anxiety, though not from all, for Mr Scrafton writes that he shows himself perpetually troubled with suspicions and apprehensions, and Coja Petruce tells Mr Watts that Omichund has wrote to bid him prevent matters coming to a head until he has assured himself that his ill-gotten gains are faithfully secured to him.

Since getting rid of Omichund, our chief concern has been with the treaty, which had then been signed only by the British. Meer Jaffier returned to the city on the 30th, in obedience to the Nabob’s order recalling him with his army from Palassy, but he was received by Surajah Dowlah with so much contumely that he retired at once to his own palace in the south part of the city, which he placed in a posture of defence, and summoned his friends to join him. Four days later Roydoolub, returning with his division, examined the treaty in concert with Meer Jaffier, and raised difficulties with regard to the sums of money allotted in it to the British, which he declared the whole contents of the treasury would not suffice to furnish. Being promised, however, by Mr Watts the entire management of the affair, and a genteel _dussutary_ for his pains, the worthy _duan_ overcame his scruples, and in conjunction with Meer Jaffier signed the treaty four days ago. On the very day this was done, the Nabob, not because he was acquainted with it, but merely to gratify his feelings of enmity, and as though to stifle any remorse that his kinsman might have been entertaining, removed Meer Jaffier from his office, setting up Coja Haddee, a favourite of his own, as Buxey.

Although the treaty was now signed, it was not yet complete, for Meer Jaffier had still to swear his resolution to observe it, but there was difficulties in the way of his doing this. Meer Jaffier durst not quit his palace, nor durst he receive a visit there from Mr Watts, even had Mr Watts been prepared to brave the suspicions of the Nabob so far as to go thither, while no confidence could be reposed in any inferior person as a witness of the solemnity. In this strait Mr Watts displayed an intrepidity such as few would have credited him with possessing, for confiding in the fidelity of his servants and the manners of the country, he entered three days ago a covered palanqueen, such as women of distinction are wont to ride abroad in, and caused himself to be carried through the city and into the inmost recesses of Meer Jaffier’s seraglio, where that nobleman, placing one hand upon the Alcoran (the accustomed pledge of the Moors’ falsehood), and t’other upon the head of his son Meerum,[17.27] took an oath to observe the compact. And here I must remark upon the extraordinary zeal and resolution with which Mr Watts has conducted all this business, which is the more wonderful when his readiness to confide in and submit to the Nabob in the surrender of Cossimbuzar is recalled. That the animadversion excited by his behaviour on that occasion has stimulated him to prove it untrue may well be believed, yet how seldom do we behold an error in judgment or a moment of timidity thus courageously repented of! Would that this gentleman’s superior, Mr Drake, had shown any signs of retrieving in a similar manner his far greater fault, instead of bending all his energies to the amassing of wealth by the efforts of others, whom he yet has not sufficient spirit even to support in their designs!

But I have wandered from my mention of Mr Watts’ intrepid journey, from which he returned safely, and which brought to me such a confirmation of my hopes as served to repay me in full for all my arduous labours for Miss Freyne’s release. For Mirza Shaw, coming from attending his master in his dangerous passage, approached the varendar where I sat.

“Siab,” he said, “Nezmennessa Beeby is the Beeby you seek.”

“What!” I cried, “have you spoke with her?”

“Nay,” said he, “but it chanced that as we passed the house to-day one of the _gwallers_ that was bearing Watch Siab’s palanqueen slipped and fell, and the rest raised a great talk and shouting. There’s a small barred window high in the wall just there, and when I glanced at it I saw a woman looking out. She was very white, and she wore a head-dress such as the Beebies of Calcutta wear.”

“Heaven be praised for this certainty!” I cried. “Did the lady make any sign to you?”

“Nay, Siab; how should she know who I might be? She disappeared from the window suddenly as I looked at her, and your honour’s servant saw no more.”

“But wait, Mirza Shaw. Was the lady in good health? How did she look?”

“Why, Siab, she appeared pale, as the European Beebies always do. I can’t tell if she was ill, since I never saw her before.”

And this cold-hearted rascal had beheld my beloved, yet could tell me no more of her than this! Pity me, madam, seeing me so tantalised. But this en’t the last of my trials. Yesterday Mr Watts despatched Omar-beg, a Moorman, an officer of Meer Jaffier’s, to Calcutta with the treaty (I fear I would be right in saying the two treaties, the white and the red), but announced to us his purpose of remaining at Muxidavad until the last extremity. Dr Dacre is still here with us, and we have just been joined by Mr Ranger, whose occupation is now gone, since the garrison of the Cossimbuzar factory, which was reduced at the end of April to no more than a corporal and six European soldiers besides the _bucksarries_, has now been wholly withdrawn by Colonel Clive’s orders, and the men are on their way to Calcutta. My pleasant friend refused to accompany them, being determined, as he says, to be in at the death, which will be his own, indeed, as much as ours. Mr Watts has desired us all to be ready on the shortest notice to take flight, or at least to remove to Maudipore,[17.28] a country house that he occupies two miles to the south of Cossimbuzar, whence we may seek to refuge at Calcutta. This order has filled me with apprehension, for what’s to be done if Mr Watts desire to send us away before we have released Miss Freyne? and work as hard as we may during the hours of darkness, the Tartar and I have not yet been able entirely to complete our preparations. Worst of all, Miss Freyne has no knowledge of ’em, for Mirza Shaw has in vain endeavoured to obtain access to her in his disguise as a pedlar. The women of the house, even, I believe, her own attendant, will come and examine his wares, but he can’t get sight of the lady. And now the Nabob, who has shut himself up in his castle of Herautjeel, in the midst of the city, is exchanging menaces with Meer Jaffier, whose fortified palace is separated from his by the river, and it’s expected that the Prince will shortly call up his army, and open upon our friend the pretender with his cannon, when Mr Watts will questionless order us out of the city....

I had wrote thus far, madam, when Mirza Shaw, who has been spending the night in the house we have hired facing Sinzaun’s, came to me a few minutes back with what seemed a piece of rag in his hand.

“This, Siab,” he said, “was thrown out to me just now from the window where I saw the Beeby t’other day. Hearing a slight noise, I looked up and perceived one edge of the grating move a very little way, just enough for this to be pushed out. I beheld no one, for I was too close beneath the window.”

He presented me with the rag, which I found to be a handkerchief with a stone tied up in it--this to give it weight, as I suppose. The letters S. F. were worked very finely in one of the corners, but on the stuff itself were traced rudely in blue thread the words, “Save. Quick.” The sight almost deprived me of my senses.

“Wretch that I am!” I cried. “We are too late.”

“Nay, Siab,” says Mirza Shaw. “The Beeby’s there still, though she may be exposed to a sudden peril. We may questionless save her yet.”

“But what do you imagine this danger to be?” I asked him.

“Why, Siab, I think Sinzaun is about to give her to the Nabob.”

I sat down again, sick at heart, remembering that the Soubah’s parasite, Moonloll, had gained his position by handing over to the Prince his own sister, a young lady who was reported to be the most delicate figure in the world. Sinzaun might well be put to it to surpass such a gift as this, but he has the means ready to his hand in our beloved and unhappy sufferer.

“Mirza Shaw,” I said, suddenly, “you and I will forestall him yet.”

“So be it, Siab. I have finished the ropes and the basket, and I will fetch you as soon as it’s dusk.”

“No,” I said; “the lady must be warned as we designed, or we may miss her in the darkness. I’ll go to our house in a _dooley_.”

For you must know, madam, that my disguise for going about my business with Mirza Shaw is no other than the outer garment of a Moor-woman, veil and cloak in one, which covers me from head to foot, concealing even my eyes with a netting. This passes well enough in the dusk, but in daylight I fear that so strapping a wench might excite more attention than would be desirable, so that the privacy of a _dooley_ was needed for my conveyance. Mirza Shaw required no second bidding. He departed to find a _dooley_, while I sought to curb my impatience by finishing my letter to you. Sure there never was a _dooley_ so hard to find. The rascal must have been gone a whole day. No, there he is returning. Madam, I trust you are remembering in your prayers this enterprise of ours, and your obedient, humble servant,

C. Fraser.