Meer Jaffier understood me.
“You mean the Englishwoman who was brought here from Calcutta, and the Englishman who was formerly a spy in Surajah Dowlah’s service?”
I nodded my head.
“It may be that the woman is, as you say, still in the Nabob’s harem. But I cannot think that the man is alive. He has most probably been secretly put to death for his offence in breaking into the garden of the seraglio.”
“I took part in that offence, and yet I am alive still,” I answered.
“Well, what is it you ask of me?”
“I ask your promise that the moment Surajah Dowlah is overthrown, and the power has passed into your hands, you will aid me to ransack the palace of Moorshedabad in search of that woman and that man.”
Meer Jaffier bowed his head.
“You shall do so. Nay, more, to convince you that I am in earnest I will write you an authority now, before you leave me, which will become of effect as soon as Colonel Clive has driven my nephew from the musnud.”