The Pirate spoke quickly, imperiously.

“You have learnt our tongue, Firangi {originally applied by the natives to the Portuguese, then to any European} boy?” he said.

“I have done my best, huzur,” replied Desmond in Urdu.

“That is well.  Now harken to what I say.  You have pleased me; my jamadar {head servant} speaks well of you; but you are my slave, and, if I will it, you will always be my slave.  You would earn your freedom?”

“I am in your august hands, huzur,” said Desmond diplomatically.

“You may earn your freedom in one way,” continued Angria in the same rapid, impatient tone.  “My scouts report that an English fleet has passed up the coast towards Bombay.  My spies tell me that in Bombay a large force is collected under the command of that sur ka batcha {son of a pig} Clive.  But I cannot learn the purpose of this armament.  The dogs may think, having taken my fortress of Suwarndrug, to come and attack me here.  Or they may intend to proceed against the French at Hyderabad.  It is not convenient for me to remain in this uncertainty.  You will go to Bombay and learn these things of which I am in ignorance and come again and tell me.  I will then set you free.”

“I cannot do it, huzur.”

Desmond’s reply came without a moment’s hesitation.  To act as a spy upon his own countrymen—­how could Angria imagine that an English boy would ever consent to win his freedom on such terms?

His simple words roused the Maratha to fury.  He sprang to his feet and angrily addressed Diggle, who had also risen, and stood at his side, still smiling.  Diggle replied to his vehement words in a tone too low for Desmond to catch what he said.  Angria turned to the boy again.

“I will not only set you free; I will give you half a lakh of rupees; you shall have a place at my court, or, if you please, I will recommend you to another prince in whose service you may rise to wealth and honor.  If you refuse, I shall kill you; no, I shall not kill you, for death is sweet to a slave; I shall inflict on you the tortures I reserve for those who provoke my anger; you shall lose your ears, your nose, and—­”

Diggle again interposed.

“Pardon me, bhai {brother},” Desmond heard him say, “that is hardly the way to deal with a boy of my nation.  If you will deign to leave him to me, I think that in a little I shall find means to overcome his hesitation.”

“But even then, how can I trust the boy?  He may give his word to escape me; then betray me to his countrymen.  I have no faith in the Firangi.”

“Believe me, if he gives his word he will keep it.  That is the way with us.”

“It is not your way.”

“I am no longer of them,” said Diggle with consummate aplomb.  “Dismiss him now; I shall do my best with him.”

“Then you must hasten.  I give you three days:  if within that time he has not consented, I shall do to him all that I have said, and more also.”