“But there, Mr. Burke, he bears you no grudge, I am sure.  He is the essence of good temper.  It was a mistake; he saw that when I explained; and when he had vented his spleen on the coachman next day he owned that it was a plucky deed in you to take charge of us, and indeed he said that you was a mighty good whip; although,” she added laughing, “you was a trifle heavy in hand.”

Desmond felt bound to make a full confession.  He related the incident of his encounter with Merriman in London—­how he had toppled him over in the mud—­wondering how the ladies would take it.  He was relieved when they received his story with a peal of laughter.

“Oh, mamma; and it was his new frock!” said Phyllis.

“La, so it was, just fresh from Mr. Small’s in Wigmore Street—­forty guineas and no less!”

“Well, ma’am, I’m already forgiven for that; I trust that with your good favor my earlier indiscretion will be forgiven.”

“Indeed it shall be, Mr. Burke, I promise you.  Now tell me:  what brings you here?”

Desmond explained his errand in a few words.  The ladies wished him a prosperous journey, and said they would hope to see him in a few days on his return.  He left them, feeling that he had gained friends, and with a new motive, of which he was only vaguely conscious, to a speedy accomplishment of his business.

On the evening of the sixth day after leaving Calcutta there came into sight a church of considerable size, which Surendra Nath explained was the temple of the Armenian colony of Cossimbazar.  Passing this, and leaving a maze of native dwellings and the French factory on the left, the travelers reached the Dutch factory, and beyond this the English settlement and fort.

Leaving the Babu to arrange quarters for the peons in the native part of the town, Desmond hastened on past the stables and the hospital to the factory.  It was a rough oblong in shape, defended at each corner by a bastion mounted with ten guns, the bastions being connected by massive curtains.  In the south curtain, windowed for the greater part of its length, was the gateway.  Desmond was admitted by a native servant, and in a few minutes found himself in the presence of the chief, Mr. William Watts.

Mr. Watts was a tall man of near forty years—­of striking presence, with firm chin, pleasant mouth, and eyes of peculiar depth and brilliance.  He was clad in a long purple-laced coat, with ruffles at the wrists and a high stock, and wore the short curled wig of the period.  He welcomed Desmond with great cordiality, and, glancing over Mr. Merriman’s letter, said: 

“My friend Mr. Merriman needlessly disturbs himself, I think.  I apprehend no immediate difficulty with the new Subah, although ’tis true there have been little vexations.  As to the goods, they are in Coja Solomon’s godown; they were delivered some time ago and paid for; what the reason of the delay is I cannot tell.  One thing I may mention—­it appears that Mr. Merriman is ignorant of it:  Coja Solomon has lately become the agent of Omichand, whose peons have been seen to visit him, then passing on to Murshidabad.  I happen to know also that he has communicated with Coja Wajid:  do you know anything of him?”