While they were talking, a man who had every appearance of a respectable banya approached the plank over which the coolies were carrying the jawer on board.  He stood idly watching the work, then moved away, and squatted on a low pile of bags which had been emptied of their contents.  For a time the serang paid no apparent heed to him; but presently, while the coolies were still busy, he sauntered across the plank and strolling to the onlooker exchanged a salaam and squatted beside him.  Passers by might have caught a word or two about the grain market; the high prices; the difficulties of transit; the deplorable slackness of trade; the infamous duplicity of the Greek merchants.  At last the banya rose, salaamed, and walked away.

As he did so the serang carelessly lifted the bag upon which the banya had been sitting, and, making sure that he was not observed, picked up a tiny ball of paper scarcely bigger than a pea.  Waiting a few moments, he rose and sauntered back on board.  A minute or two later the lascar in the after part of the boat was unobtrusively examining the scrap of paper.  It contained three words and an initial: 

Tomorrow about ten.—­C.

A change had been made in the composition of Hossain’s crew since the incident at Sinfray’s house.  One day Desmond had found one of the Bengalis rummaging in the corner of the cabin where he was accustomed to keep his few personal belongings.  Hossain had dismissed the man on the spot.  The man saved from the river had been kept on the boat and proved a good worker, eager, and willing to be of use.  He was an excellent boatman, a handy man generally, and, for a Bengali, possessed of exceptional physical strength.  At Desmond’s suggestion Hossain offered him the vacant place, and he at once accepted it.

Since his rescue he had shown much gratitude to Desmond.  He was quick witted, and had not been long on board before he felt that the khalasi was not quite what he appeared to be.  His suspicion was strengthened by the deference, slight but unmistakable, paid by the serang to the lascar; for though Desmond had warned Hossain to be on his guard, the man had been unable to preserve thoroughly the attitude of a superior to an inferior.

On receiving the short message from Clive, Desmond had a consultation with Hossain.  The coolies had finished their work and received their pay, and there was nothing unusual in the sight of the boatmen squatting on deck before loosing their craft from its moorings.

“If we are to do what we wish to do, Hossain,” said Desmond, “we shall require a third man to help us.  Shall we take Karim into our confidence?”

“That is as you please, sahib.  He is a good man, and will, I think, be faithful.”

“Well, send the other fellow on shore; I shall speak to the man.”

The serang gave the second of the two Bengalis who had formed his original crew an errand on shore.  Desmond beckoned up the new man.