His jolly face beamed when he stepped on to the ghat {landing stage}.
"Hullo, Babu!" he said, "glad to see you again."
He shook hands with both the men; the elder was much like his son, a slightly-built Bengali, with white hair and very bright eyes. Both were clad in dhotis of pure white; their legs were bare from the knee, their feet shod with sandals. When the greeting had passed between them and their master, the old man moved towards Desmond, put his hands together, and made a deep salaam.
"I have heard what the sahib did for my son. I thank the sahib," he said.
"Yes, 'twas excellent good fortune for Surendra Nath," said Mr. Merriman. "I knew you would be overjoyed to see your son again. But how is the bibi {lady}, and the chota {young} bibi?"
"They were well, sahib, when last I heard. They are on a visit to Watts Sahib, at Cossimbazar."
Merriman's face fell, but he had no time to say more, for he was accosted by a friend.
"Glad to see you back, Mr. Merriman. I've wanted your voice on the Council for some time past."
"Is anything wrong, Mr. Holwell?" asked Merriman anxiously.
"Everything is wrong. Alivirdi died a fortnight ago; Sirajuddaula has stepped into his shoes; and Drake has made a mess of everything, with Manningham's and Frankland's assistance. I want you to come and dine with me this evening; we must have a serious talk; I've asked two or three men of our sort in anticipation of your consent."