[CHAPTER XIX.]
I had now only two matters on my hands; one to discover Zora, if I could, the other to endeavour to get the bills of exchange I had brought with me cashed. Of the first I had but little hope; for since the day I went to her house, although I had constantly men on the watch about it, I could discover nothing of her or of the old nurse; the latter I had bribed handsomely, and I knew if it was possible to convey to me any information of her I loved, she would do so. I had several times passed the house myself, in the hope of seeing Zora by some accident or other, but it was in vain; and at the time I now speak of, I had almost given her up in despair. Had it not been, Sahib, for the wild interest of my trade, I should have sunk into apathy and wretchedness—so fondly, so deeply did I love her. It was this which rescued me from myself, for I could not be behind the rest in seeking adventures; and once that I had a band entirely under my own direction, I was incessantly occupied in finding employment for it, and taking my own part in the catastrophes which ensued.
The day after the rescue of our brethren we held a consultation, at which the principal members of the band were present. I need not relate particulars; suffice it to say, that all agreed in thinking we had remained long enough consistently with our safety, and it was resolved to depart in the course of the next day, or at most the day after. One by one the parties, as they were then divided, were to take the nearest road towards Beeder, which led through Puttuncherroo; and the last-mentioned place was to be the rendezvous whence we should proceed in company. Little time, therefore, remained to me; and as soon as I possibly could, I took Bhudrinath and Motee-ram with me, and we went into the city. We sat down on the steps of the Char Minar. Wonderful, indeed, were the stories we heard of our skirmish with the Kotwal's soldiers; the accounts of the killed and wounded on each side were ludicrously inconsistent, and you may imagine how we enjoyed the various relations we heard, all either from persons who declared that they had been eyewitnesses of the matter, or who had heard it from undoubted authority. But it was not our errand to waste time by listening to idle tales, not one of which contained a word of truth, but to get the money for the bills we had found among the effects of Syud Mahomed Ali, alias Kumal Khan, and we had repaired to the Char Minar as the most likely place to meet with a person who could read them, and without suspicion tell us upon whom they were drawn.
Observing as we sat a miserable half-starved-looking wretch, with a pen stuck between his turban and his ear, an ink-bottle hanging by his side, and a roll of paper under his arm, I fixed upon him as a likely person to suit our purpose. I beckoned to him, and he ran eagerly towards us. "Canst thou read Goozerattee?" I asked.
"Noble sir, I can not only read but write it, for it is my native tongue; what are my lord's commands?"
"Simply," said I, "to read a hoondee—no great matter;" and I handed him one of the bills.
"It is an order, Sahib, drawn in favour of Kumal Khan (my lord's name I presume), by Bearee Mul of Nandair, upon Gopal Chund Bisn Chund of the Begum Bazar, for four hundred rupees, at nine days' sight."
"Is it correctly drawn?" I asked.
The fellow looked at the bill, and turned it round and round, examining every part of it. "Does your worship suspect it?"