“Yes, yes,” said the offending Malay, without raising his head or his pleading hands; and then he repeated what seemed to be the whole of his stock of English, “Yes, yes.”
“Dullah asks your excellencies to forgive him, and to let him bring fruit and flowers, and to make offerings to the English princes he has offended.”
“Oh, I say, Tom Long,” said Bob; “that’s a little too strong, isn’t it? English princes!”
“What are we to do about the fellow?” said Tom Long; “tell the sentry to turn him off?”
“No; what’s the good?” said Bob. “Here, leave it to me. I’ll settle him.”
He glanced merrily at Rachel Linton as he spoke, seeming quite at ease in her society now; while Tom Long appeared to be buttoned up in his stiffest uniform, though he was in undress white.
“Go on, then,” said Tom Long in a whisper, “but don’t say anything stupid; the ladies can hear every word.”
“All right,” said Bob. “Look here, old cockolorum,” he continued to the Malay who interpreted, “what has become of that Kling who was here before?”
“Gone Mirzapore, most excellent prince,” said the man.
“Come, that’ll do,” said Bob impatiently; “drop all that eastern sugar wordings, my fine fellow, and look here!”