As Fazil parted from the wounded man, the scenes of the night, the horrid truth regarding the treachery of his friend's father, the danger which threatened both, and indeed the whole family, caused him many an anxious thought. His worst suspicions had only been too deeply verified, and even now there arose some struggle between duty and allegiance to his King, and affection for the Wuzeer's family, for the sake of his son. Bulwunt had again avoided the principal street, and they were once more in the open ground beyond the houses. Fazil walked on rapidly and silently; but at length, the oppression of his thoughts found vent in words. "Let him decide," he said aloud, in allusion to his father; "wisdom abides with him; and in a matter like this his advice is precious."

"And what think you of all this, Meah?" asked his companion, for an instant slackening his pace; "what will the noble Khan Sahib say to it?—not indeed that he and the Wuzeer are very intimate friends either. I tell thee, were not my heart turning to that devil Tannajee Maloosray, I should be lost in wonder at the Wuzeer's folly."

"Even so," said Fazil, sighing; "a man in whom I would have placed confidence as in my own father—one who ought to be honoured and loved for his faith—is but a poor knave, after all, Bulwunt—not better than that miserable Lalla whom we have just left—a thing for men to spit upon. Alas for the world's honesty, brother! A heap of gold, a few empty titles, the smile of a woman,—and power—which does but make its possessor miserable when he has gained it—turns right to wrong, justice to oppression, virtue to vice, honesty to knavery, faith to treachery. We look for it in the highest, but it flies from us; we seek it in the lowest, and turn from them but too often in despair. Should not one sigh at depravity like this, which finds no echo in one's own heart?"

"True, Meah, and may it long be so with you," returned his companion; "but your experience of life is as yet small, and as it increases I fear you will search in vain for the purity which your own heart now pictures. Perhaps it may exist among women. Sree SwÂmi knows, and you may find it there. I have not, Meah; but in the world abroad, when you have more to do with it, your sensitive spirit will become blunted by degrees, and, though a serious matter like this will trouble it, you will gradually learn to pass many a broad lie or rogue's trick which now vexes you, without notice beyond a passing curse or a hasty blow. Patience, Meah Sahib! thou hast much to learn yet; would it were good, and not evil!"

"Ah, would it were, Bulwunt Rao! Your experience is from the crooked ways and thoughts of your own people, of which men make proverbs; but for a noble of the state to betray his salt in this base manner, makes me sick at heart. But this is no time, friend, to think of aught but the work we have to do; and what more has to come of the night we know not. Hark! the thunder growls again, and the storm is coming up fast—we had as well run on to shelter; and what more may follow, Alla knows!"

So saying, they hastened as rapidly as the rough ground and increased darkness would admit, Bulwunt Rao guiding his young master through narrow lanes and over deserted spaces, till they again emerged into the now nearly deserted bazar. It was just past midnight, for the trumpeter at the guard-house, taking up the signal from the fort gate, had blown a flourish, which was understood by the keepers of liquor-shops in the quarter. The booths were still open, as well as those of confectioners and bhung or opium sellers; but the lights were being extinguished, and the groups which had been concealed within turned into the street.

A wild company truly! Some staggering in the last stage of idiotic drunkenness from opium, others tossing their arms wildly in the air, while their obscene and fearful curses and imprecations mingled with the low muttering of the thunder, which hardly ceased, and seemed to grow nearer every moment. Many forms lay prostrate in the street—some sleeping off the fumes of drink, or groaning in helpless intoxication; and they were often beset by women, whose loosened hair and disordered garments, and the wild leer of their glistening eyes, bespoke their depraved condition. But, casting those who were most importunate violently aside, they at length gained the temple, which was close to the drinking-shop we have before mentioned, and paused for a moment near the gate, which was now shut, while all was silent within.

"Let me look over thee, Meah," said his companion, "as we have a little light, and are free from those drunken wretches. Dost thou know, Meah, I have been like them sometimes, I fear; but this sight sickens and sobers me."

"God grant it, friend, it is the only thing I have ever feared in you," he replied warmly.

"Yes, it will do," continued Bulwunt; "the disguise is complete. So—the chin scarf a little more over the end of the nose: there—no one would ever suspect you. Now, I have a plan in my head, which thou wilt say could only come of a Mahratta's brain—crooked and wilful. It is this: I think, from bazar gossip, that Tannajee and Pahar Singh are one, and that they have met at Tooljapoor at the temple, or at that old villain Bussunt Geer's, at whose Mutt Tannajee's people put up, or that they have corresponded with each other through him. It is not very long since I was there—about two months ago, Meah. They were very busy—so much so that the old fox would hardly let me stay; but I was certain there was something going on; and now I have seen Pahar Singh, I am sure he came one day and held counsel with the old Gosai. Now, if Tannajee has not been there—as I will find out, if possible—I can personate Poorun Geer, the disciple of Bussunt Geer, and we may find out more of this plot. But be thou silent—a vow of silence for a year. I dread thy courtly speech breaking out even of our rough Mahratta tongue or a Mussulmani oath. Trust to me, Meah: I will not fail thee if we meet this fellow!"

"I would we had brought the guard with us, Bulwunt," said Fazil.

"Guard!" said his companion, laughing. "Look, there are his sentinels. That fellow," pointing to a figure seated at a little distance on the ground, muffled in a black blanket, and hardly to be distinguished from an animal or a stone, "is one. I saw him shift his position so as to watch us; and I see three others in different directions, Meah; one will cough, or sneeze, or make some signal when we move—and there is old Rama in the doorway, listening. Guard, Meah! no, no; we may kill Tannajee if we are lucky, but were a guard to approach, he would be off into the deserted ground at the back, and who could find him? Now, come; and may the gods protect us!"

It was but a few steps. As they moved past, a low cough proceeded from the sitting figure on the watch, and a light streamed from the doorway as the publican, Rama, moved in.

"Did you see that?" whispered Bulwunt—"is it not as I told you? Keep your sword ready, Meah; but be not hasty, whatever you may see or hear."

So saying, they stepped into the vestibule of the shop—an open space, around which were benches of raised earth or brick, neatly plastered over. A counter with some brass measures and a large copper vase, brightly polished, containing spirit, stood at one side, and a lamp burned in a niche.

Bulwunt took one of the brass drinking-cups and rattled it against another as a signal; for, as he supposed, the owner of the place had gone to an inside apartment. As he came forth, Bulwunt accosted him, and requested two hookas to be filled—one with tobacco, the other with ganja, and was advancing to the inner apartment when the man stopped him.

"There are no hookas to be had here to-night; it is past the hour, Babajee," he said, "and I am out of ganja till to-morrow. Nor can you go in there, for the place is engaged; and they who are within will not brook being disturbed."

"Ha! then there is play going on, Rama; and that is what we came for—a new hand is always welcome. Go and tell them there are two gentlemen without who would join."

"Play? No, truly," cried the man—"they have other work to do. But go your way, both of ye, for I cannot admit either of you at this time of night, and have no hookas for you to smoke. Begone; there are plenty of mudud khanas in the street besides mine, where you can get all you want. Begone, ere the rain increases."

"Nay, be not inhospitable, good fellow," returned Bulwunt, soothingly; "and here is a trifle for thee—even for shelter. Hark to the thunder!" And as he spoke, another blinding flash of lightning illumined the interior of the shop, while a crashing peal of thunder followed hard upon it. "We shall have more of that, Rama; and as to stirring out in the rain,"—for it had come plashing down with the thunder—"whose dog am I that I should go out in it—I or my brother either? Is this a night to turn two votaries of Sree Mahadeo into the streets—strangers, too, who know no other place of shelter? And were we not told to come to Rama's shop near the temple?" he added to Fazil; who, sitting down, nodded assent, and followed his example.

"There is a Gosai's Mutt hard by, round the corner," returned the man doggedly, "and a temple of Bhowani away yonder, in the plain at the back, among the tamarind trees. You will find your brethren in one, and shelter and water in the other, if ye need them. Begone, and trouble me no more. Get up; why sit ye there unbidden? Get up!"

"Get up and go to a Mutt, indeed!" retorted Bulwunt, who did not move, but, on the contrary, settled himself more determinedly and doggedly upon a seat. "Not I—in this rain! How, brother?" he added to Fazil, "shall we attempt to enter the Mutt at night through barred doors?—be taken for thieves, and be fired upon for our pains, perhaps?" Fazil shook his head. "No: we were told to come here to Rama's—is thy name Rama, friend?—and here we are."

"Who told ye to come here?" asked the kullal.

"It concerns thee not, good man," replied Bulwunt, "unless they call you Rama."

"That is my name; and what is your business with me?" he returned sulkily.

"That you will know by-and-by," replied Bulwunt. "Meanwhile, as to the Mutt and the temple, who knows whether there is either the one or the other; and who can go to look in this storm? Wherefore, worthy sir," he continued to the keeper of the place, "we are very comfortable, and intend to remain. We are not beasts to be turned out in rain like this. So, kindly bring the hookas, and when we have smoked we will rest after our long travel to-day. As to those here before us, we are not likely to molest them; and if they do not let us alone, we have weapons, and can defend ourselves. Therefore, be reasonable." Bulwunt spoke loudly, that he might be heard by the men within.

"What noise is that?" suddenly asked a strange voice from behind a partition close to which they were sitting. "Did I not tell thee, Rama, to admit no one?"

"May I be your sacrifice, Rao Sahib," returned the kullal, joining his hands together, and advancing to the door of the room, "your slave desired these two Gosais to depart civilly, but they will not move; they say they were told to come here, and ask for hookas. When I told them to be gone, one fellow talked about his weapons, and I believe they are drunk."

"About weapons, did he, Rama? and who art thou, mad youth, who venturest here into the privacy of gentlemen?" said a tall man, who now advanced from behind the partition with a sword in his left hand, while, observing that Bulwunt Rao and Fazil were armed, his right hand passed to his sword-hilt, and rested there, with a determined action.

How the stern tones of his voice thrilled to the heart of Bulwunt Rao, as he listened to them after an interval of many years. When he last heard them he was a mere youth. Shrieks of women were ringing in his ears, and his enemy's fierce commands to kill and spare none—hurried shouts, and the clash of steel. As he stood, the past recurred to Bulwunt Rao so vividly that, though years had intervened, it seemed only as if that night had gone, and morning had succeeded. There could be no doubt he was in Maloosray's presence. The same grave, determined manner—the same large black eye—as the proverb about him said, "Gentle as a fawn's, or fierce as a tiger's"—the same deep-toned voice. Time had hardly tinged his whiskers and moustaches with grey, but his face was weather-beaten and seared, as it were, by the sun, and his large bony frame more developed, than when they had last met—the boy and the cruel fiery youth. The light from a rude lamp in a niche of the wall threw a strong glare upon his face, which he did not seek to evade; while the features of Bulwunt Rao and his companion were in a great measure concealed by the shadow thrown upon them in the corner where they sat.

"A poor Gosai," answered Bulwunt in the Mahratta tongue, but in a tone as haughty as that in which he had been addressed, "who, with his brother, has sought shelter here and refreshment. Why shouldst thou interfere?"

"Ha! a proud speech, young sir; and your companion, why does he not answer?" returned Maloosray.

"He has a vow of silence for a year, made at the shrine of our Mother of Tooljapoor," returned Bulwunt, doggedly.

"Enough," cried Maloosray, "begone in her name! There is a temple of hers a gunshot from hence; begone to it."

"We must know who it is that has the power to send us hence ere we stir foot to depart," retorted Bulwunt, rising, and raising his really fine figure to its full height; and as Fazil Khan followed his example, both were ready to meet any sudden assault. "Who dares, I say, send us out in such rain? Are we men or dogs, to be put out with insult from a public place in such weather?"

Tannajee's sword was drawn in an instant, and flashed brightly in the flickering glare of the lamp. The others were as rapidly unsheathed; but both parties stood on the defensive,—neither struck.

"For the love of Mahadeo, for the love of Bhowani, by your fathers' heads! no blood-shedding here, good sirs!" cried the keeper of the house imploringly, passing between them, and stretching out his hands deprecatingly to each in turn. "I shall be ruined! fined!—they will hang me! Hold! there will be blood shed. Help! help!" he shrieked in a frantic manner, seeing Tannajee advance a step.

Hearing his cries and the altercation, two men rushed from the inner apartment with drawn weapons, and would have attacked the others at once, but Tannajee withheld them.

"Peace!" he cried; "put down your weapons, friends. Peace, bold youth!" he continued to Bulwunt Rao; "you have run a fearful risk unmoved, which you do not know of. Who are you?" he asked rapidly.

"A Gosai: I have said it already," replied the other.

"A disciple of what teacher?"

"How are you to know, even if I tell it truly, who my Gooroo is?" returned Bulwunt. "Is Bussunt Geer of Tooljapoor known to you?"

"Ha! Bussunt Geer of Tooljapoor? but his cheyla is Poorun Geer, not thou?"

"Maharaj, it is true; but I am the younger. Poorun Geer stays with the Gooroo."

"And your name?"

"As-Geer."

"When were you made a cheyla?"

"About a year ago; and I was at Bhaga Nugger and Golconda till lately; in the house there."

"And what has brought you here?"

"I do not answer questions except upon the Gooroo's business," replied Bulwunt haughtily.

"Good, thou art discreet, O Babajee! And thy companion?"

"He is a novitiate under a vow of silence for a year."

"Good. Let there be peace between us for a while, till I prove thee true or false."

Bulwunt was about to make a passionate reply, when the imploring look of Fazil met his eye. It seemed to say, Go on with this deception; and, after a moment's thought, Bulwunt Rao determined to do so, and to refrain from violence so long as it suited his purpose. Ready himself to strike if needful, he might be able to throw Tannajee off his guard.

"Listen," continued Tannajee; "by one question I shall know if thou art true or false. If true, well for thee, Baba; if false, by the holy 'MÁta!' hadst thou ten men's lives, and ten others to back thee, thou shouldst die like a dog."

"That is easier to say than to do," returned Bulwunt in a contemptuous tone. "I have seen enough of bullies at Bhaga Nugger to fear big words. But speak; if I can answer your question, well; if not, what is in my hand may reply to anything further."

Maloosray laughed aloud—a short bitter laugh, very grating to hear. "How much ganja hast thou smoked, O Baba?" he asked with a sneer; "but stay, this is folly. If thou art Poorun Geer's cheyla, thou knowest Pahar Singh?"

"What Pahar Singh?—him of Itga?"

"The same: we call him of Allund."

"The Hazaree?"

"Ay—Hazaree, robber, Gosai, murderer, if thou wilt. If he is known to thee, why ask? By KhundÔba! I distrust this fellow," he added to the two others, who closed up to him; "why did he ask?"

"I know him," said Bulwunt doggedly, "he is here."

"Where?"

"He was in the temple of Bhowani behind there less than half an hour ago, for I spoke to him."

"Thou? why?"

"I had a message from the Gooroo for him."

"And where is he now?"

"Nay, how should I know? I saw him there with one Maun Singh, and another, whom I knew not."

"Strange that he should not have come," continued Maloosray, after a pause. "Art thou sure of the man?"

"As sure as that——" Bulwunt had nearly spoken his adversary's name, but a twitch from Fazil checked him. "As sure as that I see thee, O Maharaj."

"And who am I?"

"Nay, I know not, nor care. My message was to Pahar Singh, and it was delivered. I was told to come here to meet some others; ye may be they. Pahar Singh may be yet at the temple," observed Bulwunt, who trusted to his ingenuity to get rid of one of the men. "Why not send for him?"

"A good thought," said Maloosray; "go at once, Abajee," he observed to the smaller of the two men. "Here is my blanket—the rain will not signify, and take one of the men with you."

"And bring Pahar Singh here, Maharaj?" asked the man, sheathing his sword, and turning to look for his shoes, which were near a door they had not observed.

"Yes. Tell him I am here with Bussunt Geer's cheyla, and that there is no fear. If he be gone, come away; we will await you."

As Maloosray turned slightly to speak the last words, a look of intelligence passed between Fazil and Bulwunt; but though the odds against them had been withdrawn, Maloosray's suspicions had apparently not relaxed in the least, for he stood, his weapon ready for action, and his shield advanced before his body, so that Bulwunt had as yet no opportunity to strike as he desired. His account of himself was plausible enough, but it did not apparently satisfy the wily Mahratta.

"And Pahar Singh was there, Baba?" he asked; "know you for certain? What message had you to him?"

"Nay, it was easy enough, Maharaj," returned Bulwunt; "all he told me was, to meet Pahar Singh at the temple of Bhowani, near the kullal's quarter, this night, and afterwards to come to Rama's shop near the temple, where I should find some Mahrattas who would give me a message. I have reached Beejapoor in four days, and must return to-morrow. If you are the person I was to meet here, tell me what I am to say, and I will go; for we need a lodging for the night, and our horses are in the city."

"Where?" asked Maloosray.

"At the Taj Bowree;[7] but I shall be away by early dawn."

"But the fort gate will be shut, Baba."

"I have a friend at the wicket who will let us in. Do not fear for that, Maharaj!" replied Bulwunt confidently.

Maloosray thought for a moment. "It must be true," he added. "Now, Baba, listen; if I trust thee, couldst thou help the cause Bussunt Geer has at heart?"

"I will be faithful to him; is he not my Gooroo?"

"And thy companion?"

"Surely, as myself. We are one."

"Then listen," said Maloosray, for once thrown off his guard, and now leaning upon his sword. "I believe this tale could not have been invented, for no one knows, but the Gooroo, why Pahar Singh would venture to Beejapoor, and what need he had to bring me here. I do not care to see Pahar Singh, who is a stupid ruffian; but if thou wilt deliver my message to Bussunt Geer in four days, it may save trouble to many people, and help what we have in hand. Tell him if he can get the Lalla's papers, to keep them; if Pahar Singh has them, to make him keep them till Khan Mahomed can redeem them. They will be worth thousands—lakhs, perhaps, if they are what I think. Tell the Gooroo that Sivaji BhÓslay will not be unmindful of his care in this matter; say also that Pahar Singh has disappointed me, and it is better the message went through thee; for who can trust one who has a double face, and who is with the King to-day, Sivaji the next, Alumgeer the day after—fickle and covetous, looking only after gold. Yet, if he please to meet me, he knows the place and the time. Hast thou comprehended all this?"

"Fully; but thy name? Thou mayst be an impostor. Whom shall I tell him I met at this place, and whose message am I to believe?"

"He did not tell thee? He was afraid, perhaps, my name should be heard in Beejapoor; but I laugh at such precautions. Say that the servant of Sivaji BhÓslay—one Tannajee Maloosray—bids thee say what I have told thee."

"Tannajee——"

"Ay! Tannajee Maloosray. If thou art from Poona thou mayst chance to have heard of it."

"Maloosray of RohÉla?"

"The same; there is no other Tannajee Maloosray living——"

"And I, villain and murderer! am Bulwunt Rao of Sewnee," he shouted, no longer able to control himself, and assaulting his hereditary enemy with all his force. "Upon them, Meah, in the name of the King! Hur, hur! Mahadeo!"

It was well for Maloosray that the point of Bulwunt's sword caught a projecting rafter of the low roof as it descended, else he had never spoken more. Nevertheless it reached him; and though a steel chain had been woven into his turban, which prevented a severe wound, the force of the blow somewhat stunned him; and so fierce and unexpected was the assault, that for an instant his habitual presence of mind failed him. But for an instant only. Ere Bulwunt could repeat the blow, Maloosray had leaped aside, and began to press his impetuous adversary very closely. Fazil, in his turn, had attacked the companion of Maloosray, and found him a wary swordsman; and the place, confined as it was, afforded no room for rapid movement; while the light was dim and treacherous. Blows were, however, rapidly exchanged. The quarrel could not continue long: for the shouts and cries of the keeper of the house, and of several of Maloosray's scouts, who were unarmed, aroused the guard, who rushed to the spot with loud exclamations and drawn weapons.

Tannajee felt in an instant that he had no chance if they entered, and he knew that if taken his execution would be immediate and certain. Just, therefore, as the dark figure of the foremost of the guard was entering the shop behind Bulwunt, and by whose rapid tread and shouts he was somewhat thrown off his guard, Tannajee gathered himself up for a desperate blow, and delivered it with an abusive imprecation. "Once I failed," he said—"not now!" As he spoke, the heavy weapon descended with all his great strength; Bulwunt tried to stop it, but it caught the edge, not the face of the shield, and, though he partially succeeded, or he had never breathed more, glancing from the hard and polished edge of the shield, it lighted upon Bulwunt's bare neck and shoulder, cutting down to the bone in a ghastly manner.

Maloosray saw with exultation that the blood poured forth in a torrent, and, as Bulwunt staggered and fell back, he called to his companion to follow him, and both darted through the back apartments into a court leading into a narrow street beyond, and as they passed they closed both the doors behind them.

"Follow me!—a thousand rupees for Tannajee Maloosray's head!" cried Fazil to the guard; and though they pursued him for a short distance, all chance of capturing him was hopeless in that murky darkness and heavy rain.

[7] The Royal well, which is surrounded by cloisters and rooms, where travellers still put up.