The officer was Philip Dalton. He had long thought on the possibility of saving some captive, that he might gain information of the English prisoners, and he tended Kasim kindly. In a few days they were better friends; the cold reserve of Kasim had worn off before the frank manner of the Englishman, and they now conversed freely of the war, of their own vicissitudes and adventures, and of the present chances of success. Kasim soon perceived that all hope for the Sultaun was at an end, from the vigour of the attack and the efficiency of the army, and he knew that within the Fort existed dread and discontent. After a while Philip asked him of the prisoners—at first warily, and only hinting at their existence. But Kasim was faithful to his Sultaun, though he could have told him of the fearful murders which had been openly mentioned among the army, to avenge which they supposed the English thirsted. Yet he did not reveal them, even though he knew from Philip’s own lips that the English had been informed of them by the hundreds who had deserted on the night of the first attack. Often Philip would ask him whether he had ever known any of the prisoners; whether he had ever spoken with them when on guard over them, or perchance escorting them from station to station: for he knew that the captives were frequently removed, lest they should attack those who attended them.
And when Kasim related to him his interference in behalf of an English prisoner at Bangalore, and his attempt to protect him in the Sultaun’s Durbar, risking his life for him ere yet he was himself in service, Philip’s cheek glowed, and his heart throbbed, in a silent conviction that it was Herbert himself.
‘Was he tall, and brown-haired? and had he very large blue eyes?’ he asked anxiously.
Kasim recollected himself: it was a long time ago, and his memory appeared to have been impaired by the late events; he had only seen him in times of great excitement. But after a long reflection, he thought it was the same; however, the prisoner’s features had made little impression upon him.
‘Poor youth!’ added Kasim, ‘I saw him no more.’
‘How! what became of him?’
‘He was doomed to die. While I was held back by men—for I was excited—I saw him dragged away. I heard the Sultaun give the fatal mandate to Jaffar,—a man whose heart is blacker than that of Satan.’
‘He of whom thou hast told me so much of late?’
‘Ay, the same. I heard mention made of the fatal rock, and the young Englishman was dragged forth, spat upon and insulted. Yet even then he spoke to me, and said that my action would be remembered in the judgment. Alas! I had no power to rescue him, and he must have died.’
‘Gallant fellow!’ cried Philip, ‘the pain of that thought I can save thee; he died not there.’