After I had been greeted by my friend, who had been at a loss to account for my delay in reaching Agra—the Lieutenant thus addressed him:
"I say, old boy. Look here. I have a lot of treasure for you about seven or eight miles from this; but there has been a break down. Send out a lot of fellows to give assistance, will you?"
"Yes."
"And look here, old boy. There's a dead Soubahdar."
"A what?"
"A dead Soubahdar. He died suddenly, and I don't wish him to be buried without an examination, because I bullied him mildly only a short time previous to his going out. You will manage that for me, old boy, won't you?"
"Oh, yes."
"He died of old age, and his last grievance; but still I should like a medical man's certificate; just to satisfy the colonel who served with him in Lord Lake's time, you know, and all that sort of thing."
"I can manage all that for you," replied the official, riding by the side of the buggy; "but push on, for the sun is becoming rather oppressive, and I have no hood to my saddle, remember."
My host and hostess made me as comfortable and as happy as any traveller could wish to be made. Of the former I saw little or nothing from eleven in the morning till three or four in the evening, for he was what is called a conscientious officer, and attended strictly to his work. During these hours I used to read, or pay a visit to the mess-rooms of a regiment where a billiard-table was kept. To the officers of the regiment I was introduced by Lieutenant Sixtie, previous to his return to his own corps. He stayed eight days in Agra—upon some plea or other—and sent his company on, in advance of him.