after this, the tidings of Juggernaut Sing's arrival in Muxadavad, and of a marriage between him and his master's granddaughter. It seems that the Brahmins, to whom the fanatic youth had confessed and defended his deed of slaughter, had approved the crime; and Omichund did not shrink from bestowing his grandchild upon the man whose hands were red with her mother's blood. But what human affection can be expected from a people whose devilish creed teaches them to cast their babes beneath the murderous wheels of Juggernaut, and make a family of children motherless by the burning alive of an unoffending widow?

Of the poor girl's feelings I scarce dared think; and when I remembered our friendly companionship at Fulta, and the tender devotion with which she had watched my sick-bed, my heart bled sorely for her griefs. Had it been possible to have saved her in any desperate manner from a fate to my mind so terrible, I would have hazarded the attempt; but Mr. Watts's counsel and my own reflections alike convinced me that her rescue was impossible.

CHAPTER XXVI.

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT.

WHILE Omichund's intrigue with Khan Latty was yet in the bud, a new and much more important pretender presented himself in the person of Meer Jaffier, commander-in-chief of the Nabob's forces, a man of years and experience, who had stood high in the estimation of Allaverdy, and to whom that wise ruler had given his sister in marriage. An Armenian called Petrus, a man that had been employed as a messenger between ourselves and Suraja Doulah in the negotiations of February last past, now came to Mr. Watts on behalf of Meer Jaffier, who declared himself pushed to rebellion in sheer self-defence, since he never entered the durbar but with the dread of being assassinated. Meer Jaffier was ready to promise anything, and Mr. Watts made haste to acquaint Clive with his offers, whereupon there commenced a revolution destined to end most happily for our English interests.

I will not follow all the windings and intricacies of this eastern plot and counterplot. Subtlety and falsehood were the order of the day, and the Nabob alternated between loud-spoken distrust and smoothtongued conciliation of ourselves and Meer Jaffier, who played his cards, however, with extraordinary skill, and contrived to fool his weak master to the very last. It was a period of incessant letter-writing between Mr. Watts at Muxadavad and the select committee at Calcutta, and my post of secretary was a laborious one, leaving little time in which to think of private troubles and anxieties. So critical indeed was our situation, that there were many nights on which my patron and I lay down to rest not knowing whether we should be alive in the morning. It was very well for the gentlemen at Calcutta to be easy as

to the result of our intrigue: We were in the lion's den, and knew that in any luckless hour the brute's ravenous jaws might open to devour us. I am happy to say, however, that we faced all dangers coolly, and asserted the interests of our honourable masters with as calm a front as if we had been safe in the council-chamber of Leadenhall-street.

The Nabob's army was still encamped at Plassey, while Clive, by the advice of Meer Jaffier's party, had withdrawn his forces to Calcutta, the better to lull the tyrant into a false security. But Suraja Doulab, by nature the most cowardly of mankind, was a prey to perpetual suspicions, now turning upon us, now upon Meer Jaffier, as ready to cringe as to assassinate, and knowing not whom to trust or whom to destroy. His spies lurked in every quarter of the province, and traded alike upon his fears and his ignorance; one day making him believe that the English army lay concealed in the factory of Cassimbazar, and the next deluding him with the hope that a French fleet was about to ravage Madras.

Urged by his ever-increasing fear of Clive, he sought a reconciliation with Meer Jaffier, whom he had lately treated with the utmost ignominy, and sent him, with fifteen thousand men, to reinforce his prime minister, Roydoulub, at Plassey. Meer Jaffier, afraid to refuse, was thus compelled to leave Muxadavad while the plot was hatching, but left his agent Petrus behind, in daily, and sometimes hourly, correspondence with my patron, Mr. Watts.

The articles were now drawn up which were to pledge Meer Jaffier in the event of his success. They were to include all that had been promised by Suraja Doulah, and one clause of extreme advantage to the English, whereby the future Nabob agreed to pay a sum of money sufficient to make good all the losses which had been sustained by the Company and individuals at the taking of Calcutta. Meer Jaffier, with all the generosity of an adventurer who has as yet nothing to lose and all things to gain, readily agreed to these articles, but stipulated that the plot should be kept secret from that Gentoo intriguer, Omichund.

This last condition was perplexing. The old man had been hanging upon our footsteps ever since he had broached the subject of Yar Khan Latty's pretensions, and had pressed us closely for a definite answer. For some time he had, I know, suspected us, too well versed in the art of prevarication to be deluded by an Englishman's less subtle falsehoods. He came in upon us suddenly, on the very day after Petrus brought us Meer Jaffier's message, livid with rage, and told us that we had been trifling with him, and that he knew the secret game we were playing.

Of all men about the Soubahdar's court this was the one whose influence my patron most dreaded. He saw that Omichund knew something of our secret, and that to obey Meer Jaffier's desire would be to provoke his vengeance. After binding him to secrecy he therefore confided the details of our enterprise, which Omichund heard with

pretended approval. But I had now known this old man for some years, and had made a close study of his countenance. I watched him attentively throughout this conversation, and saw quite enough to assure me that he did not forgive us for the endeavour to deceive him, and that in his heart of hearts he cherished a most malignant hatred of us.

Soon after this came news from Calcutta of the arrival of a messenger from Hyderabad, a stranger called Govinderoy, who brought a letter purporting to be written by Ballajee-Rao, the general of the Morattoes, offering to invade Bengal with a hundred and twenty thousand men within six weeks after he should receive the invitation of the English governor. The letter was suspected to be a trap set for us at the instigation of Suraja Doulah; and Clive, ever ready in expedients, advised the committee to forward the letter to the Nabob, affecting a belief in its authenticity. By this means, should the letter be indeed a trick, the tables would be turned upon the trickster; while, if it were otherwise, no act could be more adapted to soothe him into a confidence in our friendship.

The treaty which Mr. Watts and myself had sketched out with infinite pains and very close calculations was now submitted to the committee at Calcutta. The sum therein demanded for the restitution of all losses amounted in all to seventeen millions of rupees; but this sum, large as it appears, did not seem sufficient to the gentlemen of the Calcutta committee, who cherished an extravagant notion of the wealth in Suraja Doulah's treasury, an idea founded rather on the mythical wonders of the Arabian Nights than on the possible revenues of the tyrant, whose predecessor's reign had been one of constant turmoil and expenditure.

Determined that Meer Jaffier should pay for his elevation, the committee asked a donation of five million rupees for the squadron and army, while Mr. Watts was also recommended to request a handsome tribute for each of the gentlemen of the committee.

These preliminaries being settled, we awaited the final blow, not without a terrible uncertainty of mind; for the spies of Suraja Doulah slept not, and the shadow of death hovered very near us during this most critical period.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OMICHUND THROWS OFF THE MASK.

THE time was now come in which the Gentoo deceiver, Omichund, was to reveal himself for the first time in his true colours. I have already described the lurking doubt which had ever been entertained of his sincerity by Mr. Holwell and myself, and afterwards by Mr. Watts; but he was now to throw off the mask, and boldly declare himself a villain.

It was when matters were at the most perilous crisis—the Nabob's army encamped at Plassey fifty thousand strong, and Clive prepared to march from Calcutta so soon as the treaty was signed-when this avaricious scoundrel came one morning to my patron, and rudely insisted upon an interview. His usual cringing manner was exchanged for an audacity which threatened mischief. He began at once to talk of the confederation, and our hopes of success.

"I have come fresh from the durbar, Mr. Watts," he said, "and the countenance of the Nabob was not pleasant to look on. He has spies, saheb, many spies; and he suspects. It needs but one word, one hint of the truth in his ear, and before the echo of the voice that spoke it had died away in the hall of his palace, the messengers of death would be on their way hither. Have you ever considered that the game we are playing is one in which we stake our heads?"

"I have never esteemed my life especially safe in this country," my patron answered with admirable coolness. "But what does this preface mean, my good Omichund."

"It means that if you, saheb, hold your life at a trifle, I set some value on mine, and expect a handsome recompense when I place myself in mortal peril, which I have done daily, hourly, within the last month, for the service of your people at Calcutta."

"You cannot suppose that your services will go unrewarded."

"I do not know that. When I served you a year ago-as I did, faithfully-your people at Calcutta rewarded me with a prison. They made me a prisoner, saheb, for a groundless suspicion; and while the rest of my countrymen had ample leisure to decamp with all their possessions, my hard-earned wealth was sacrificed; and that I owe to the English. The women of the household were slaughtered; that also do I owe to the English. Yet these bitter wrongs do I forget, when Sabat Jung has given you back your settlement, and I try to serve you-because, though they have ill-used me, I believe the English are faithful, and will keep promise or treaty that they make. My fortunes are broken, and I am labouring to restore them. I have served you well, saheb, and there have been many times when the Nabob would have had you slain without mercy had he not been beguiled by me to trust you a little longer. To do this, I have risked my life daily, and shall continue in the same peril so long as I remain in this city. I must have my reward. It must be no promise of the lips-a breath which the evening wind blows away. It must be written in the treaty. The reward that I am to have must be written there, in words that no man can misunderstand."

"Such a proposal is somewhat insulting to your employers," replied Mr. Watts; "but I do not suppose the gentlemen of the committee will object to your name being set down in the treaty between them and Meer Jaffier. Pray at what amount do you estimate your ser

vices ?"

Omichund smiled in a thoughtful manner before replying to this plain question.

"I have to remember that without my mediation the Nabob would never have been reconciled to the English. Ever since the capture of Calcutta I have been the secret friend of your countrymen: not because I have reason to love them, but because-nay, saheb, no man is bound to reveal his motives. It is enough that I have served you. 'Twas I who pleaded with Suraja Doulah for the miserable survivors of the 20th of June, and gave them food and shelter at Calcutta, where they might have remained with impunity, but for the folly of one English soldier who killed a Moor in some drunken quarrel, an act that led to the banishment of every Englishman from the settlement. Yes, saheb, I have been your friend, but my experience does not teach me to hope much from British gratitude. I have a better claim to the reward I ask than past services."

"What is the nature of that claim, Omichund?"

"My power to destroy you!" cried the old traitor, with a sudden energy that struck us dumb. He stood for some moments watching our faces with a malignant grin upon his own. Then slowly extending his brown skinny hand, he looked downward at the outspread fingers with a smile of triumph. "See here, saheb," he said, "in these fingers I hold the threads of your intrigue. It needs but a motion of my hand and they are entangled hopelessly. In this palm I hold your livesyours and your secretary's yonder, and the lives of many more-and by the closing of this hand can destroy you. What, gentlemen! how pale you look! And yet I do but remind you of my power; to speak is not to act. Do you think Omichund would betray his patrons-even though they once betrayed him-and though but the other day you sought to fool and hoodwink the poor old Gentoo? No, Mr. Watts, saheb, I do not threaten; I ask only that when others are remembered my reward may not be forgotten."

"Put your demand in plain figures," replied Mr. Watts, somewhat coldly; "I do not comprehend this violent language, or the looks with which you have accompanied it."

"The treasury of Bengal is accounted rich, and if Meer Jaffier mounts the musnud, my honourable masters will profit by millions. For my share I claim five per cent upon the Nabob's treasures in specie, and the fourth part of his jewels."

This demand was made with a most consummate coolness of tone and manner, and having thus stated his claim the old Gentoo stood before us with downcast eyelids and folded hands, the very picture of meek honesty. But beneath the shrivelled lids I could discern the piercing black eyes casting rapid stolen glances at my patron's face. The proposition was so monstrous that Mr. Watts stood for some minutes aghast, more struck by the enormity of this demand than by the iniquity of the threat that had preceded it. Treachery of the