“Burke, my boy,” he said, “’tis a mighty odd thing.  Mr. Clive is not partial to Councils; has had enough of ’em at Madras first, and lately at Calcutta.  D’you know, I don’t understand Mr. Clive; I don’t believe any one does.  In the field he is as bold as a lion, fearless, quick to see what to do at the moment, never losing a chance.  Yet more than once I’ve noticed, beforehand, a strange hesitation.  He gets fits of the dumps, broods, wonders whether he is doing the right thing, and is as touchy as a bear with a sore head.  Well, ’tis almost noon; I must be off; we’ll see what the Council has to say.”

Desmond watched the major almost with envy as he went off to this momentous meeting.  How he wished he was a little older, a little higher in rank, so that he too might have the right to attend!  He lay back in the tent wondering what the result of the Council would be.

“If they asked for my vote,” he thought, “I’d say fight;” and then he laughed at himself for venturing to have an opinion.

By and by Major Killpatrick returned.

“Well, my boy,” he said, “we’ve carried our point, twelve against seven.”

“For fighting?”

“No, my young firebrand; against fighting.  You needn’t look so chop fallen.  There’ll be a fight before long; but we’re going to run no risks.  We’ll wait till the monsoon is over and we can collect enough men to smash the Subah.”

“Was that Colonel Clive’s decision?”

“’Twas, indeed.  But let me tell you, there was a comical thing to start with.  Lieutenant Hayter, one of Watson’s men, was bid to the Council, but the nincompoop was huffed because he wasn’t allowed precedence of the Company’s captains.  These naval men’s airs are vastly amusing.  He took himself off.  Then Mr. Clive put the case; fight at once, or wait.  Against the custom, he himself voted first—­against immediate action.  Then he asked me and Grant in turn; we voted with him.  ’Twas Eyre Coote’s turn next; he voted t’other way, and gave his reasons—­uncommonly well, I must admit.  He said our men were in good spirits, and had been damped enough by the rains.  The Frenchman Law might come up and join the Nawab, and then every froggy who entered our service after Chandernagore would desert and fight against us.  We’re so far from Calcutta ’twould be difficult to protect our communications.  These were his reasons.  I watched Clive while Coote was speaking; he stuck his lips together and stared at him; and, have you noticed? he squints a trifle when he looks hard.  Well, the voting went on, and ended as I said—­twelve against immediate action, seven for.”

“How did the Bengal men vote?”

“I’m bound to say, for—­except Le Beaume.  ’Twas the Madras men who outvoted ’em.”

“Well, with all respect, sir, I think the opinion of the Bengal men, who know the people and the country, ought to have outweighed the opinion of strangers.  Still, it would be difficult to oppose Colonel Clive.”