“Fifty-three sacks of gold and jewels alone, sir!” said he to Mr Freyne.
“Kissendass is a lucky dog, then,” says my papa.
“Kissendass is an—eternal schemer, sir. Can you be so blind as not to see through the trickery of the whole affair?”
“You would have me infer that the treasure belongs to the Chuta Begum, and is brought to us on her account?”
“Brought to us, sir? No. But brought within our bounds to embroil us with the Chuta Nabob, yes. ’Tis no more Gosseta Begum’s doing than mine.”
“Then you would say, Captain, that the admirable Kissendass is making off with his mistress’s property? They say his father. has never rendered any accounts since he first got his duanry, and he may think it well not to risque his gains, whatever the Begum may choose to do.”
“My papa thinks this Gentoo is like a rat that forsakes a sinking ship,” I put in, using a saying I had picked up from Mr Fraser[12]—I mean, I had heard it from some one.
“Oho, saucebox, are you listening?” says Mr Freyne.
“With all respect to Miss and to you, sir,” says the Captain, “the matter, I opine, is worse than you think. Whether Radjbullubdass is seeking to place his ill-gotten gains in safety, or whether the Chuta Begum is providing against a possible reverse of fortune, don’t concern us now. Whichever it be, Kissendass had no need to come here, recommended by a letter from Mr Watts, and bringing with him the treasure he is ostentatiously removing out of Surajah Dowlah’s reach. The thing is a deep-laid plot. Who met the fellow at the wharf? Omy Chund’s banyan. Who settled him in a convenient house belonging to himself? Omy Chund. And who was dismissed from his service as the contractor for cloth to the Company, after forty years of cheating? Omy Chund again. He and his friend Govinderam Metre, who also has his grudge against Mr Holwell for turning him out of the zemindary he had enjoyed for so many years, have long been watching to catch us tripping, and now they have found their chance. Mark my words, sir, this plausible scoundrel Kissendass will yet prove our ruin.”
“The ruin won’t be unexpected, then,” said my papa. “Why did you not warn the Presidency, Captain?”