to absence of body.
The khansaman's surprise was clearly genuine, and Desmond refrained from
visiting on him his disappointment. Bitter as that was, his alarm was
still more keen. What had become of the ladies! With all his old
impulsiveness he had come to rescue them, never pausing to think of what
risks he himself might run. And now they were gone! Could Diggle have
suspected that his carefully-hidden tracks were being followed up, and
have removed the prisoners to some spot remoter from the river? It was
idle to speculate; they were gone; and there was no obvious clue to their
whereabouts.
The khansaman, limp and damp after his unwonted exercise, had squatted on
the floor and was fanning himself, groaning deeply. Desmond went to the
window of the room and looked out over the country; wondering, longing,
fearing. As he gazed disconsolately before him, he caught sight of a
party of horsemen rapidly approaching. Bidding the khansaman stifle his
groans, he watched them eagerly through the chiks of the window. Soon a
dozen native horsemen cantered up to the front gate and drew rein.
One of them, clad in turban of gold tissue, short blue jacket lavishly
decorated with gold, and crimson trousers, bade the rest dismount. He was
a tall man, a handsome figure in his fine array. He wore a sword with
hilt inlaid with gold, the scabbard covered with crimson velvet; and in
his girdle was stuck a knife with agate handle, and a small Moorish
dagger ornamented with gold and silver.
He stood for a time gazing as in perplexity at the broken gateway. His
face was concealed by his turban from Desmond, looking from above. But
when he directed his glance upward, Desmond, peering through the chiks,
could scarcely believe his eyes. The features were those of Marmaduke
Diggle. His heart thumped against his ribs. Never, perhaps, in the whole
course of his adventures, had he been in such deadly peril. The
appearance of the party had been so sudden, and he had been so deeply
engrossed with his musings, that he had not had time to think of his own
situation.
"Come, son of a pig," said Diggle at length, throwing himself from his
horse and beckoning to his syce, "we will search the place. There must be
something to show who the dacoits were."
He strode into the compound, followed by his trembling servant.
"Indeed, huzur," said the man in shrill tones of excuse, "we did our
best. But they were many: our livers were as water."
"Chup {shut up}, pig! Wait till you are spoken to," exclaimed Diggle,
turning angrily upon him.
"Achha, sahib! bahut achha, sahib {good, sahib--very good, sahib}!"
A vicious kick cut short his protestations, and the two passed out of
hearing of the two watchers above, the khansaman having brought his
quivering flabbiness to Desmond's side. Diggle passed into the entrance
hall, the native horsemen waiting like statues at the gate.
"It is the sahib!" whispered the shaking khansaman to Desmond: "Digli
Sahib. He will kill me. He is a tiger."
"Silence, fool!" said Desmond sternly: "there must be a way out.
"Jeldi jao {go quickly}! we shall be too late."
The man seemed glued to the spot with fear. The footsteps of Diggle could
be heard in the rooms below. In a few minutes he would reach the upper
story; then it would indeed be too late to flee. If they could gain the
back staircase they might slip down and hide in the garden. But fright
appeared to have bereft the khansaman of all power of movement.
Yet Desmond, for more than one reason, was unwilling to leave him. He
knew what Diggle's tender mercies were; but he also knew that the
khansaman, if discovered, would certainly try to purchase his safety by
betraying his companion. So, without more ado, seizing him by the neck,
Desmond shook him vigorously.
"Come!" he said in a fierce whisper, "or I shall leave you to face the
sahib alone."
This summary treatment shocked the man from his stupor. Stepping on
tiptoe he darted across the room, through the door communicating with a
room beyond, into a narrow passageway at the rear of the house. Here was
a second staircase leading downwards to the servants' quarters.
"Wait there," said Desmond when they were halfway down. "If you hear any
one coming up, rejoin me above."
He himself crept noiselessly back to the upper floor. No sooner had he
reached the top than he heard Diggle moving in the room he had recently
left. He darted to a khashkas {a fragrant plant whose roots are used for
making screens} curtain, through the meshes of which he could see into
the two intercommunicating rooms. Diggle was carefully searching the
apartment; he clearly knew it was the one lately occupied by the ladies.
As he stooped to pick up a cushion that lay on the floor beside a divan,
his eye was caught by a scrap of crumpled paper. He snatched at it like a
hawk and with quick fingers straightened it out--the fingers of the
mittened hand that Desmond knew so well. On the paper was writing; the
characters were English, but Diggle appeared to have some difficulty in
making them out.
"'Your servant Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti,'" he said slowly, aloud.
"Who is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti?" he asked his man, standing behind.
"Truly, huzur, I know not. It is a common name in Bengal--a vile Hindu;
an unbeliever--"
"How did this paper come here?" cried Diggle impatiently.
"How should I know, sahib? I am a poor man, an ignorant man; I do not
read--"
"Come with me and search the back of the house," said Diggle, turning
away with an oath.
Desmond stepped noiselessly across the floor and joined the khansaman.
They made their way out stealthily down the stairs, through the garden at
the back, into a mango grove. There they remained hidden until Diggle,
finding his search fruitless, remounted with his men and galloped away.
Desmond felt in a maze of bewilderment. It was clear that Diggle was
ignorant of the whereabouts of the ladies; where had they been spirited
to, and by whom? Apparently there had been an attack on the house, and
they had been carried away: was it by friends or foes? What was the
meaning of the paper found by Diggle? Had the Babu had any hand in the
latest disappearance, or was it his letter that had put someone else on
their track? Desmond had heard nothing of Surendra Nath or his father
since the sack of Calcutta.
There was no clue to the solution of the problem. Meanwhile it was
necessary to get back to Calcutta. The journey had been delayed too long
already, and Hossain's employer, the grain merchant, would have good
reason for complaint if he felt that his business was being neglected.
"We must go, khansaman," said Desmond in sudden determination.
The man was nothing loath. They returned by the way they had come.
Desmond left the man some distance short of Sinfray's house, promising,
in return for his assistance, to use his best offices with the irate
manjhi {steersman} on his behalf. Then he struck off for the point lower
down the river where his boat was moored. As soon as he arrived they got
under way, and late that evening reached Tanna Fort, where they had to
deliver their cargo of rice for the use of the Nawab's garrison.
In the dead of night they were surprised by a visit from Hubbo, the
serang's brother. He had seen them as they passed from one of the sloops
that lay in the river opposite the fort. Though chief in command of the
Nawab's vessels at that point, he was still secretly loyal to the
Company, and was anxious to serve their interests to the best of his
power.
He had now brought important news. The three sloops and two brigantines
that lay off the fort were, he said, filled with earth. On the approach
of Admiral Watson's fleet they were to be scuttled and sunk in the
fairway. A subahdar {equivalent to colonel of infantry} of Manik Chand's
force was at present on board one of the sloops, to superintend the work
of scuttling. The signal would be given by the subahdar himself from his
sloop.
"Very well, Hubbo," said Desmond, "that signal must not be given."
"But how prevent it, sahib? I wish well to the Company; have I not eaten
their salt? But what can one man do against many? The subahdar is a very
fierce man; very zabburdasti {masterful}. When he gives the word it will
be death to disobey."
Desmond sat for some time with his chin in his hands, thinking. Then he
asked:
"Do you know where the British fleet is at present?"
"Yes, sahib. I was in the bazaar today; it was said that this morning the
ships were still at Fulta. The sepoys are recovering from the privations
of the voyage."
"We shall drop down the river tomorrow as soon as we have unloaded our
cargo. You may expect us back ahead of the fleet, so keep a good lookout
for us. I shall take care that Mr. Drake is informed of your fidelity,
and you will certainly be well rewarded."
Early in the morning the cargo was unloaded; then, under pretense of
taking in goods at Mayapur, the petala dropped down the river and gained
Fulta under cover of night.
Next morning Desmond, having resumed his ordinary attire, sought an
interview with Clive.
"The very man I wished to see," said Clive, shaking hands. "Your scouting
is the one ray of light in the darkness that covers the enemy's
arrangements. You have done remarkably well, and I take it you would not
be here unless you had something to tell me."
Desmond gave briefly the information he had learned from Hubbo.
"That's the game, is it?" said Clive. "A pretty scheme, egad! 'Twill be
fatal to us if carried out. 'Twould put a spoke in the admiral's wheel
and throw all the work on the land force. That's weak enough, what with
Mr. Killpatrick's men dying off every day--he has only thirty left--and
my own Sepoys mostly skeletons. And we haven't proved ourselves against
the Nawab's troops; I suppose they outnumber us thirty to one, and after
their success at Calcutta they'll be very cock-a-hoop. Yet 'tis so easy
to sink a few ships, especially if preparations have been made long in
advance, as appears to be the case."
"I think, sir, it might be prevented."
Clive, who had been pacing up and down in some perturbation of mind, his
head bent, his hands clasped behind him, halted, looked up sharply, and
said:
"Indeed! How?"
"If we could get hold of the subahdar."
"By bribing him? He might not be open to bribery. Most of these native
officials are, but there are some honest men among them, and he may be
one. He wouldn't have been selected for his job unless Manik Chand
thought him trustworthy. Besides, how are we going to get into
communication with him? And even if we did, and filled him to the brim
with rupees, how are we to know he wouldn't sell us in turn to the
enemy?"
"But there are other ways, sir. We can depend on Hubbo, and if I might
suggest, it would pay to promise him a rich reward if he managed to keep
the passage clear."
"Yes, I agree. What reward would be most effective?"
"A few hundred rupees and the post of syr serang in the Company's service
when Calcutta is retaken."
"Not too extravagant! Well, I shall see Mr. Drake; the offer had better
come from him and reach Hubbo through his brother."
"And then, sir, it ought not to be impossible to secure the subahdar
himself when the moment arrives."
Clive looked at the bright eager countenance of the boy before him.
"Upon my word, my lad," he said, "I believe you can do it. How, I don't
know; but you have shown so much resource already that you may be able to
help us in this fix--for fix it is, and a bad one. 'Tis the will that
counts; if one is only determined enough no difficulty is insuperable--a
lesson that our friends from Calcutta might take to heart. But have you a
plan?"
"Not at present, sir. I should like to think it over; and if I can hit on
anything that seems feasible I should be glad of your leave to try."
"By all means, my lad. If you fail--well, no one will be more sorry than
I, for your sake. If you succeed, you will find that I shall not forget.
"There's one thing I want to ask you before you go. Have you heard
anything of my friend Merriman's ladies?"
"Yes, sir; and, as I suspected, Diggle is at the bottom of their
disappearance."
He related the series of incidents up the river.
"Dressed like a native, was he? And looked like a risaldar {officer
commanding a troop of horse}? There's no end to that fellow's villainy.
But his day of reckoning will come; I am sure of it, and the world will
be none the worse for the loss of so vile a creature. If you take my
advice you'll say nothing to Mr. Merriman of this discovery. 'Twould only
unsettle the poor man. He had better know nothing until we can either
restore the ladies to him or tell him that there is no hope."
"I don't give up hope, sir. They're alive, at any rate; and Diggle has
lost them. I feel sure we shall find them."
"God grant it, my lad."