Chapter XVII · IN WHICH GREEK JOINS GREEK.

From Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood.

The English House, Muxidavad, Feb. ye 28th.

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.

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.”

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

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 20th.

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.

“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.

“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.”

March ye 31st.

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 30th.

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 23rd.

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.

“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 8th.

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.

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.”

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.