"I suppose you have long ere this guessed, my friends," said I to Bhudrinath and Surfuraz Khan next day, "why the Nuwab is in our company."

"We can have little doubt," replied the former, "since you have brought him so far; but tell us, what are your wishes,—how is it to be managed? It will be impossible to attack him on the road; he would cut down some of us to a certainty, and I for one have no ambition to be made an end of just at present."

"You are right," said I; "we must not risk anything; still I think an opportunity will not long be wanting."

"How?" cried both at the same moment.

"Listen," said I, "and tell me whether my plan meets with your approval. During the march yesterday the Nuwab was regretting that we did not fall in with a good stream of clear water, that he might take his usual sherbet; you know that the slave girl he has with him always prepares it. Now I am in hopes that we may meet one in to-morrow's march, and I will try all I can to persuade him to alight and refresh himself; while he is engaged in conversation with me, if we find him off his guard, we can fall on him."

"Nothing is easier," replied Surfuraz Khan; "we cannot fail if he once sits down: his weapons will not then serve him."

"I do not half like the job," said Bhudrinath. "Suppose he were to be on his guard, he would assuredly escape; and though both myself and the Khan here fear neither man nor devil, yet it is something out of the way to kill a Nuwab; he is not a regular bunij, and I think ought to be allowed to pass free of harm."

"Nonsense!" cried I. "This from you, Bhudrinath? I am astonished. What, if he be a Nuwab, is he not a man? and have I not fairly enticed him according to every rule of our vocation? It may be something new to kill a Nuwab, but think, man, think on the glory of being able to say we had killed Subzee Khan, that valiant among the valiant; why, our fathers and grandfathers never did such an act before."

"That is the very reason why I raise my voice against it," said he; "anything unusual is improper, and is often offensive to Bhowanee."

"Then take the omens upon it," said I, "and see what she says. Inshalla! we shall have the Nuwab yet."

"Ay," replied he, "now you speak like a Thug, and a proper one: I will take the omens this evening and report the result; should they be favourable, you will find Bhudrinath the last man to desert you."

In the evening the omens were duly taken, and proved to be favourable. Bhudrinath came to tell me the news with great delight. "I said how it would be," I cried; "you were owls to doubt our patroness after the luck she has given us hitherto; and now listen, I have not been idle. I have found out from the villagers that about four coss hence there is a small stream with plenty of water; the banks are covered with jungle, as thick as we could desire, and I have fixed on that as the place. Shall we send on the Lughaees?"

"Certainly," said Bhudrinath: "we may as well be prepared:—but no," continued he, "what would be the use of it? If the jungle is as thick as you say it is, we can easily conceal the bodies; and at any rate, as there is a river, a grave can soon be made in the sand or gravel. But the Nuwab is a powerful man, Meer Sahib; you had better not risk yourself alone with him; as for the rest, the men have secured them,—that is, they have arranged already who are to do their business."

"So much the better," said I, "for there is little time now to think about it."

"I have selected one," continued Bhudrinath, "the fellow who calls himself the Nuwab's jemadar; I have scraped an intimacy with him, and am sure of him; the others have done the same; but we left the Nuwab to you."

"He is mine," cried I; "I did not wish to be interfered with. If Surfuraz Khan has not selected any one, I will get him to help me."

"He has not, Meer Sahib, that I know of, and he is as strong a man as any we have with us; with him and another of his men you cannot fail; but let Surfuraz Khan be the Shumshea, he is a good one."

"I scarcely need one if the Nuwab is sitting," said I; "though perhaps it is better to have one in case of any difficulty."

We made all our arrangements that night, and next morning started on our journey in high spirits. The Nuwab and I, as usual, rode together at the head of the party. "This is an unblest country, Meer Sahib," said he, as we rode along. "Didst thou ever see so dreary a jungle, and not a drop of water to moisten the lips of a true believer from one end of the stage to the other? It is well the weather is cool, or we should be sorely tired in our long stages; and here have I, Subzee Khan, gone without my usual sherbet for three days on this very account. By Alla! I am now as thirsty as a crow in the hot weather, and my mouth opens in spite of me. Oh, that we could light on a river or a well in this parched desert! I would have a glorious draught."

"Patience, Khodawund!" cried I, "who knows but we may be near a stream? and then we will make a halt, and refresh ourselves: I am hungry myself and should not care for an hour's delay to break my fast with some dates I have with me."

"Ha, dates! I will have some too; my fellows may find something to eat in my wallets, and thou sayest truly the cold wind of these mountains makes one hungry indeed." But coss after coss was left behind, and as yet no river appeared. I was beginning to think I had received false information, and was in no very good humour at my disappointment, when, to my joy, on passing over the brow of a hill, I saw the small river the villagers had spoken of below me.

"There," said I. "Khodawund! there at last is a river, and the sparkling of the water promises it to be good. Will you now halt for an hour? we can have a pipe all round, and your slave can prepare your sherbet."

"Surely," cried he; "we may not meet with another, and this is just the time when I like my sherbet best; send some one to the rear for my slave, and bid her come on quickly."

I dispatched a man for her, and reaching the stream, we chose a smooth grassy spot, and spreading the covers of our saddles, sat down. One by one, as the men arrived, they also rested, or wading into the water refreshed themselves by washing their hands and faces in the pure stream, which glided sparkling over its pebbly bed; the beasts too were allowed to drink; and all the men sitting down in groups, the rude hooka passed round among them, while they cheerfully discussed the merits of the road they had passed, and what was likely to be before them. Casting a hasty glance around, I saw that all the men were at their posts, three Thugs to each of the Nuwab's servants and retainers. They were therefore sure. Azima's cart was standing in the road, and in order to get her away I went to her.

"Beloved," said I, "we have halted here for a short time to allow of the people taking some refreshment, but you had better proceed; the road appears smooth, and we shall travel the faster to overtake you."

"Certainly," she replied; "bid them drive on, for I long to be at the end of the journey. Poor Nurgiz and myself are well nigh jolted to death."

"Ah well," I said, "bear up against it for another stage or two. I promise you to get a dooly, if I can, at the first large village or town we come to, and then you will be comfortable."

"Now proceed," said I to the Thug who acted as driver (for I had purchased a cart on the road, soon after we left Beeder, and he had driven it ever since); "proceed, but do not go too fast."

She left me, and I returned to the Nuwab. He was sitting in conversation with my father, and even now was evidently partially intoxicated with his detestable beverage. "Ho! Meer Sahib," cried he, "what dost thou think? Here have I been endeavouring to persuade this worthy father of thine to take some of my sherbet. By Alla, 'tis a drink worthy of paradise, and yet he swears it is bitter and does not agree with his stomach. Wilt thou take a drink?" and he tendered me the cup. "Drink, man, 'twill do thee good, and keep the cold wind out of thee; and as to the preparation, I'll warrant it good, for there breathes not in the ten kingdoms of Hind a slave so skilled in the art of preparing subzee as Kureena yonder. Is it not so, girl?"

"My lord's favour is great toward his slave," said the maiden; "and if he is pleased, 'tis all she cares for."

"Then bring another cup," cried the Nuwab. "Now, with a few fair girls to sing a ghuzul or two to us, methinks a heaven might be made out of this wild spot."

"It is a good thought, Nuwab," cried I, chiming in with his humour; "we will get a set of Tuwaifs from the next village we come to; I dare say they will accompany us for a march or two."

"You say well, Meer Sahib; yours are good words, very good words; and, Inshalla! we will have the women," said the Nuwab, slowly and indistinctly, for he had now swallowed a large quantity of the infusion, which had affected his head. "By Alla! they should dance, too; like this—" continued he, with energy, and he got up and twirled himself round once or twice, with his arms extended, throwing leering glances around upon us all.

It was irresistibly ludicrous to behold him. His splendid armour and dress but ill assorted with the mincing gait and absurd motions he was going through, and we all laughed heartily. But the farce was proceeding too long, and we had sterner matter in hand than to waste our time and opportunity in such fooleries. So I begged him again to be seated, and motioned to Surfuraz Khan to be ready the instant he should see me go round to his back.

"Ho, Kureena!" cried he, when he had again seated himself, "bring more subzee, my girl. By Alla! this thirst is unquenchable,—and thou art excelling thyself to-day in preparing it. I must have more, or I shall never get to the end of this vile stage. I feel now as if I could sleep, and some more will revive me."

"Fazil Khan, bring my hooka," cried I, as loud as I could. It was the signal we had agreed on.

"Ay," cried the Nuwab, "I will beg a whiff or two, 'twill be agreeable with my sherbet."

I had now moved round behind him; my roomal was in my hand, and I signalled to Surfuraz Khan to seize him.

"Look, Nuwab!" cried he: and he laid hold on his right arm with a firm grasp.

"How dare you touch me, slave!" ejaculated Subzee Khan; "how dare you touch a Nuwab——"

He did not finish the sentence: I had thrown the cloth about his neck; Surfuraz Khan still held his hand, and my father pulled at his legs with all his force. The Nuwab snored several times like a man in a deep sleep, but my grip was firm and did not relax—a horse would have died under it. Suddenly, as he writhed under me, every muscle in his body quivered; he snored again still louder, and the now yielding form offered no resistance. I gazed upon his features, and saw that the breath of life had passed from the body it had but now animated. Subzee Khan was dead—I had destroyed the slayer of hundreds!

But no one had thought of his poor slave girl, who, at some distance, and with her back turned to us, had been busily engaged in preparing another rich draught for her now unconscious master. She had not heard the noise of our scuffle, nor the deep groans which had escaped from some of the Nuwab's people, and she approached the spot where Surfuraz Khan was now employed in stripping the armour and dress from the dead body. Ya Alla! Sahib, what a piercing shriek escaped her when she saw what had been done! I shall never forget it, nor her look of horror and misery as she rushed forward and threw herself on the body. Although master and slave, Sahib, they had loved.

Her lips were glued to those of the unconscious corpse, which had so often returned her warm caresses, and she murmured in her agony all the endearing terms by which she had used in their private hours to call him, and implored him to awake. "He cannot be dead! he cannot be dead!" cried the fair girl,—for she was beautiful to look on, Sahib, as she partly rose and brushed back her dishevelled hair from her eyes. "And yet he moves not—he speaks not;" and she gazed on his features for a moment. "Ah!" she screamed, "look at his eyes, look at them—they will fall out of his head! And his countenance—'tis not my own lord's; those are not the lips which have often spoken kind words to his poor Kureena! Oh, my heart, what a pain is there!"

"This will never do," cried I; "some of you put her out of her misery; for my part, I war not with women."

"The girl is fair," said Surfuraz Khan; "I will give her a last chance for life."

"Hark you!" cried he to her, "this is no time for fooling;" and as he rudely shook her by the arm, she looked up in his face with a piteous expression, and pointed to the body by which she was kneeling and mourning as she rocked herself to and fro. "Hear me," cried the Khan, "those who have done that work will end thy miserable life unless thou hearkenest to reason. I have no wife, no child: thou shalt be both to me, if thou wilt rise and follow me. Why waste further thought on the dead? And thou wast his slave too! Rise, I say again, and thy life is spared: thou shalt be free."

"Who spoke to me?" said she, in tones scarcely audible, "Ah, do not take me from him; my heart is broken! I am dying, and you would not part us?"

"Listen, fool!" exclaimed the Khan; "before this assembly I promise thee life and a happy home, yet thou hearkenest not: tempt not thy fate; a word from me and thou diest. Wilt thou then follow me? my horse is ready, we will leave the dead, and think no more on the fate of him who lies there."

"Think no more on him! forget him—my own, my noble lover! Oh, no, no, no! Is he not dead? and I too am dying."

"Again I warn thee, miserable girl," cried Surfuraz Khan; "urge me not to use force; I would that you followed me willingly—as yet I have not laid hands on thee." A low moan was her only reply, as she turned again to the dead, and caressed the distorted and now stiffening features.

"Away with the body!" cried I to some of the Lughaees, who were waiting to do their office; "one would think ye were all a parcel of love-sick girls, like that mourning wretch there. Are we to stay loitering here because of her fooling? Away with it!"

My order was obeyed; four of them seized the body, and bore it off in spite of the now frantic exertions of the slave; they were of no avail; she was held by two men, and her struggles to free herself gradually exhausted her. "Now is your time," cried I to Surfuraz Khan; "lay hold of her in the name of the thousand Shitans, since you must have her, and put her on your horse: you can hold her on, and it will be your own fault if you cannot keep her quiet."

Surfuraz Khan raised her in his arms as if she had been a child; and though now restored to consciousness, as she by turns reviled us, denounced us as murderers, and implored us to kill her, he bore her off and placed her on his horse. But it was of no use; her screams were terrific, and her struggles to be free almost defied the efforts of Surfuraz Khan on one side and one of his men on the other to hold her on.

We proceeded about half a coss in this manner, when my father, who had hitherto been a silent spectator, rode up, as I was again vainly endeavouring to persuade the slave to be quiet and to bear with her fate. "This is worse than folly," cried he, "it is madness; and you, above all, Surfuraz Khan, to be enamoured of a smooth-faced girl in such a hurry! What could we do were we to meet travellers? She would denounce us to them, and then a fine piece of business we should have made of it. Shame on you! do you not know your duty better?"

"I'll have no more to say to the devil," said the man on the left of the horse, doggedly; "you may even get her on the best way you can; what with her and the horse, a pretty time I am likely to have of it to the end of the journey;" and he quitted his hold.

"Ay," said I, "and think you that tongue of hers will be silent when we reach our stage? what will you do with her then?"

"Devil;" cried the Khan, striking her violently on the face with his sheathed sword, "will you not sit quiet, and let me lead the horse?" The violence with which he had struck, caused the sword to cut through its wooden scabbard, and it had inflicted a severe wound on her face.

"There," cried my father, "you have spoilt her beauty at any rate by your violence; what do you now want with her?"

"She is quiet at all events," said the Khan, and he led the horse a short distance. But the blow had only partly stunned her, and she recovered to a fresh consciousness of her situation; the blood trickled down her face, and she wiped it away with her hand; she looked piteously at it for an instant, and the next dashed herself violently to the earth.

"One of you hold the animal," cried the Khan, "till I put her up again." But she struggled more than ever, and rent the air with her screams: he drew his sword and raised it over her.

"Strike!" she cried, "murderer and villain as you are, strike! and end the wretched life of the poor slave; you have already wounded me, and another blow will free me from my misery; I thought I could have died then, but death will not come to me. Will you not kill me?"—and she spat on him.

"This is not to be borne; fool that I was to take so much trouble to preserve a worthless life," cried the Khan, sheathing his sword; "thou shalt die, and that quickly." He threw his roomal about her neck, and she writhed in her death agonies under his fatal grasp.

"There!" cried he, quitting his hold, "I would it had been otherwise; but it was her fate, and I have accomplished it!" and he left the body and strode on in moody silence.

Some of the Lughaees coming up, the body was hastily interred among the bushes which skirted the road, and nothing now preventing us, we pursued our journey with all the speed we could. Thankful was I that I had sent on Azima in her cart; she was far beyond the scene of violence which had happened, and of which she must have guessed the cause had she been within hearing; but the driver of her cart had hurried on, and we had travelled some coss ere we overtook her. Strange, Sahib, that after that day Surfuraz Khan was no longer the light-hearted, merry being he had used to be. He was no novice at his work; hundreds of human beings, both male and female, had died under his hand; but from the hour he killed the slave he was an altered being: he used to sit in silent, moody abstraction, his eyes gazing on vacancy, and when we rallied him upon it, his only reply was a melancholy smile, as he shook his head, and declared that his spirit was gone: his eyes too would on these occasions sometimes fill with tears, and sighs enough to break his heart would escape from him.

He accompanied us to our home, got his share of the booty, which he immediately distributed among the poorer members of the band, and after bidding us a melancholy farewell, stripped himself of all his clothes, covered his body with ashes, and went forth into the rude world, to bear its buffets and scorn, in the guise of a Fakeer. I heard, years afterwards, that he returned to the spot where he had killed the girl, constructed a hut by the road-side, and ministered to the wants of travellers in that wild region, where his only companions must have been the bear, the tiger, and the wolf. I never saw him again after he parted from us, and many among us regretted his absence, and his daring skill and bravery, in the expeditions in which we afterwards engaged: his place was never filled among us.

I have no more adventures of this expedition to relate to you: we reached our home in due course without any accident or interruption; and who will not say that we enjoyed its quiet sweets, and appreciated them the more after our long absence and the excitement and perils of our journey? I was completely happy, secure in the increasing love and affection of Azima, whose sweet disposition developed itself more and more every day. I was raised to a high rank among my associates, for what I had achieved was duly related to those who had stayed in our village, and to others who had been out on small expeditions about the country; and the immense booty we had acquired, and my father's well-known determination to retire from active life, pointed me out as a leader of great fortune, and one to whom many would be glad to entrust themselves in any subsequent expedition, as I appeared to be an especial favourite of our patroness.

The return of Hoosein's party, about two months after we had arrived, was an event of great rejoicing to us all when they reached our village. As we had agreed beforehand, at our separation, the whole of the proceeds of the expeditions of both parties were put into one, for general distribution, and on a day appointed it took place. Sahib, you will hardly believe it when I tell you, that the whole amounted to very nearly a lakh of rupees. It was carried by general acclamation that I should share as a jemadar, and according to the rules of our band I received one-eighth of the whole. Bhudrinath and Surfuraz Khan received what I did, but the latter only of such portion as we had won since he had joined us. I forget how much it was, but, as I have told you, he divided it among the poorer members of the band; and having apparently stayed with us only for this purpose, he left us immediately, as I have before mentioned. Upon the sum I had thus acquired I lived peacefully two years. I longed often to go out on small expeditions about the country, but my father would not hear of it.

"What is the use?" he would say. "You have ample means of subsistence for two years to come; my wealth you know is also large, and until we find the supply running short, why should you risk life in an attempt to gain more riches, which you do not need?"

But my spirit sorely rebelled against leading such an inactive and inglorious life, and every deed I heard of only made me more impatient to cast off the sloth which I feared would gain hold on me, and to mingle once more in the exciting and daring exploits of my profession. Still I was fond of my home. Azima had presented me with a lovely boy, who was the pride of my existence, and about the time I am speaking of I expected another addition to my family. I had already seen two seasons for departure pass, and a third was close at hand, but I suffered this also to elapse in inactivity, although I was repeatedly and strongly urged by Bhudrinath and others to try my fortune and head another band to penetrate into Bengal, where we were assured of ample employment and success.

But much as I wished to accompany them, my father still objected; something had impressed him with an idea that the expedition would be unfortunate; and so in truth it turned out. A large gang under several leaders set out from our village at the usual time; but the omens, although not absolutely bad, were not very encouraging, and this had a dire effect on the whole. They had not proceeded far when jealousies and quarrels sprang up among the several leaders; they separated from each other and pursued different ways. One by one they returned disappointed with their expedition, having gained very little booty, scarcely sufficient to support them for the remainder of the year. But one party was never heard of more; it consisted of my poor friend Bhudrinath and six noble fellows he had taken with him. Years afterwards we heard his fate: he had gone down into Bengal, had visited Calcutta, and up to that period had been most successful; but there his men dissipated their gains in debauchery, and they set out on their return with barely sufficient to carry them a few marches. They had nearly reached Benares, when, absolute starvation staring them in the face, they attacked some travellers, and, as they thought, killed them. They neglected, however, to bury their victims, and one, who was not dead, revived: he gave information to the inhabitants of the nearest village. My poor friends were overtaken, seized, the property they had about them immediately recognized, and the evidence given by the survivor of the party they had attacked was convincing. What could oppose this? The law had its course, and they were tried and hanged.

Ameer Ali here stopped in his narrative, and promising to resume it in a few days, he requested permission to withdraw, and making his usual salam departed. A strange page in the book of human life is this! thought I, as he left the room. That man, the perpetrator of so many hundred murders, thinks on the past with satisfaction and pleasure; nay he takes a pride in recalling the events of his life, almost every one of which is a murder, and glories in describing the minutest particulars of his victims, and the share he had in their destruction, with scarcely a symptom of remorse! Once or twice only has he winced while telling his fearful story, and what agitated him most at the commencement of his tale I have yet to hear.

With almost only that exception, his spirit has seemed to rise with the relation of the past; and his own native eloquence at times, when warmed with his tale and under the influence of his vivid imagination and faithful memory, has been worthy of a better pen and a more able translator than I am; but let this pass; I repeat, it is a strange and horrible page in the varied record of humanity. Murderers there have been in every country under heaven, from the time of Cain to the present—murderers from hate, from revenge, from jealousy, from fear, from the instigation of any and every evil passion of our nature; but a murderer's life has ever been depicted as one of constant misery,—the worm that dieth not, the agony and reproach of a guilty conscience, gnawing at the heart, corroding and blasting every enjoyment of life, and either causing its wretched victim to end his existence by suicide, to deliver himself up to justice, or to be worn down by mental suffering—a more dreadful fate perhaps than the others. Such are the descriptions we have heard and read of murderers, but these Thugs are unlike any others. No remorse seems to possess their souls. In the weariness of perpetual imprisonment one would think their imaginations and recollections of the past would be insupportable to them; but no,—they eat, drink, and sleep like others, are solicitous about their dress, ever ready to talk over the past, and would if released to-morrow, again follow their dreadful profession with a fresh zest after their temporary preclusion from it. Strange too that Hindoo and Moslem, of every sect and denomination, should join with one accord in the superstition from which this horrible trade has arisen. In the Hindoo perhaps it is not to be wondered at, as the goddess who protects him is one whom all castes regard with reverence and hold in the utmost dread; but as for the Moslem, unless his conduct springs from that terrible doctrine of Fatalism, with which every true believer is thoroughly imbued from the first dawn of his reason, it is difficult to assign a reason for the horrible pursuit he has engaged in. His Koran denounces murderers. Blood for blood, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, is the doctrine of his Prophet, which he trembles at while he believes.—And Ameer Ali is a Bhula Admee even in the eyes of his jailers; a respectable man, a religious man, one who from his youth up has said his Namaz five times a day, is most devout in his life and conduct, is most particular in his ablutions, keeps the fast of the Ramzan and every saint's day in his calendar, dresses in green clothes in the Mohorum, and beats his breast and tears his hair as a good Syud of Hindostan ought to do; in short, he performs the thousand and one ceremonies of his religion, and believes himself as sure of heaven and all the houris promised there as he now is of a good dinner.

And yet Ameer Ali is a murderer, one before whom every murderer of the known world, in times past or present,—except perhaps some of his own profession, the free bands of Germany, the Lanzknechts, the Banditti, Condottieri, of Italy, the Buccaneers and Pirates, and in our own time the fraternity of Burkes and Hares (a degenerate system of Thuggee, by the bye, at which Ameer Ali, when I told him of them, laughed heartily, and said they were sad bunglers)—must be counted men of small account. Reader, these thoughts were passing in my mind, when at last I cried aloud, "Pshaw! 'tis vain to attempt to account for it, but Thuggee seems to be the offspring of fatalism and superstition, cherished and perfected by the wildest excitement that ever urged human beings to deeds at which humanity shudders."

"Did Khodawund call?" said a bearer, who had gradually nodded to sleep as he was pulling the punkah above my head, and who was roused by my exclamation. "Did the Sahib call?"

"No, Boodun, I did not; but since you are awake, bid some one bring me a chilum. My nerves require to be composed."