This announcement, which caused general merriment, induced Lord Jamleigh to ejaculate:—
"That's the champagne, I suspected as much!"
"Where is he?" inquired our host of the sirdar-bearer. "In his palkee?"
"No, Sahib," was the reply. "He is lying on that Sahib's bed," pointing to me.
Here, again, everybody laughed, except myself. I was rather angry, being somewhat particular on this point. So I suggested that he might be put into his vehicle at once. The native servants, of course, were afraid to touch him, lest he should awake and "hit out;" so we, the five of us, Europeans, the magistrate, the two assistant magistrates, Lord Jamleigh, and myself, had to lift, remove, and pack in his palkee, the overcome, and perfectly unconscious valet. He must have been sipping brandy-and water before he came to the bungalow, for he had only half finished his bottle of champagne. Lord Jamleigh now got into his palanquin, and composed himself for the night, or, rather, the remainder of it, and in order that there might be no mistake as to his Lordship's destination, the magistrate sent a horseman to accompany the cortège, with directions that "the Sahibs" were to be taken to Durowlah, on the road to Meerut, and to the house of the magistrate, by whom Lord Jamleigh had been invited, or rather, "petitioned," to stay with him, should he pass through that station, and (to use his Lordship's own terms), as he had promised to do so, he supposed that he must keep his word. When a palanquin is escorted by a sowar, the sowar when the destination is approached, rides on and gives notice that a lady, or gentleman, as the case may be, is coming; and, as the natives of India can never pronounce European names properly, the precaution is usually taken of writing down the name of the traveller on a card, or a slip of paper, and giving it to the sowar. In this case, "Viscount Jamleigh" was written down for the guidance and information of the Durowlah functionary.
It was about seven a.m. when this card was put into the hands of the gentleman who had invited Lord Jamleigh; whom, by the way, he had never seen. The bungalow was immediately all life and in commotion; the servants ordered to prepare tea and coffee; the best bed-room vacated by the present occupants; hot water in readiness; and ere long a palkee—a single palkee—loomed in the distance; the other palkee was a long way, some three miles, behind. One of the bearers who was carrying it, had fallen and injured himself, and thus was a delay of an hour and a half occasioned. And during that hour and half a pretty mistake was committed. The first palkee was that containing the valet, and the one behind was that of his lordship. The valet had not recovered the effects of his potations; and, on being awakened, seemed, and really was, bewildered and stupified—so much so, that he could not inform the magistrate that he was "only a servant," and not entitled to the attentions that were showered upon him. With trembling hand, he took the cup of tea from the silver salver, and gazing wildly round, murmured, rather than said—
"Brandy! Little Brandy!" which was at once brought and administered. He then had his warm "wash," sat down on the best bed, and suffered himself to be punkahed by two domestics in snow-white garments. This revived him somewhat; but still he felt far too ill to talk. He simply shook his head, and there was a good deal of meaning in that shake, if the magistrate could only have understood it.
"Take some brandy and soda-water, my lord," said his host.
The valet nodded assent.
The magistrate mixed the dose, and administered it with his own hands.