Mr. Holwell and Rupert returned together, the former more cheerful, but Gurney very sulky, and making a show of being much annoyed.
“I have spoken to the Serdar, Marian, and could do nothing for to-night. He says that you are to remain with the other English till he can take the Nabob’s pleasure, who is now getting drunk, and difficult to deal with.”
Mr. Holwell confirmed the story, adding—
“Surajah Dowlah may scarce be spoken to. His looks are dreadful. Yet he has sworn to me on the faith of a soldier that no hair of any of our heads shall be injured.”
“That is right,” quoth Rupert. “So you see, Marian, it is but staying here with your other friends”—he gave me a jeering smile as he said this—“till to-morrow morning, when I will speak to the Nabob myself, at all hazards, and have you released.”
Poor Marian glanced at him in despair.
“Rupert, you won’t desert me!” she cried. “You don’t mean to leave me as you did in Gheriah in that horrid cell, from which I scarcely escaped alive?”
“Pooh, pooh, girl! No,” he answered lightly, “I shall be at hand. It is nothing. What is one night’s captivity? The soldiers will have orders to find you some comfortable room in the fort. I will see about your accommodation myself.”
With this promise on his lips he disappeared, and returned no more.