CHAPTER IX
THE SPY
So many accounts have been written of the events which took place in Bengal about this time, that I shall omit as much as possible of the public transactions in which I was concerned, dealing rather with my own particular adventures in the midst of them.
Of Surajah Dowlah, at the time of his accession, I knew only what was reported about him by common rumour in the settlement, which was that he was a young man of cruel and vicious propensities, ill-disposed towards the English in his country, and greedy for plunder. This was enough to make me share the uneasiness about his intentions towards us, which I found to prevail in the minds of Mr. Holwell, Mr. Byng, and other prudent persons. On the evening of the day on which I heard this news, therefore, I went round to Mr. Rising’s house, to speak with Marian about her situation.
It was not quite dusk when I arrived, being the month of April. To my surprise I found the outer gate leading into the garden close shut, and it was not till after knocking and shouting for many minutes that the Indian porter condescended to come and open it. Being angry with the man for this unreasonable delay, I cuffed him as I passed in—for without some severities of this kind there is nothing to be done with the natives of Bengal. The fellow, instead of cringing before me as is the wont of these people, gave me a black look, and muttered sullenly—
“The lord is harsh to his servant, but another may be harsher to the lord.”
Not knowing at this time the wonderful intelligence which prevails among the Indians, so that news of all kinds travels about among them by underground channels of which Europeans are not permitted to know, I did not sufficiently understand the gravity of this threat. Dismissing it as a mere piece of insolence, however unusual, I walked up to the house and opening the door for myself, came into the room where Marian usually received me and which was the same I have already described.
I found her sitting alone by the open window, in the dusk, looking out into the river. As I walked in she turned with the uneasy start I had remarked on former occasions, and rising hurriedly, came to meet me.
“Good evening, Marian,” I said, taking her by the hand. “I should have been here sooner but for that surly gardener of yours, who kept me waiting at the gate.”