From the lascar he had learned all that he ever knew of
the motives of the Gujarati's action. Desmond had hardly left the boat
when the man sprang quickly after him, saying briefly:
"I go to guard the sahib."
It was like the instinctive impulse of a faithful dog; and Desmond often
regretted the loss of the man who had shown himself so capable of
devotion.
That evening Clive summoned Desmond to attend him in the palace. When he
entered the durbar hall he saw, seated on the dais, a small group
consisting of Clive, Admiral Watson, and two or three subordinate
officers. Standing in front of them was Diggle, in the charge of two
marines.
"How many European prisoners have been released, Mr. Ward?" the admiral
was saying.
"Thirteen, sir; ten English and three Dutch."
"Is that correct, Mr. Burke? Was that the number when you were here?"
"Yes, sir, that is correct."
"Then you may go, Mr. Ward, and see that the poor fellows are taken on
board the Tyger and well looked after."
As the officer saluted and withdrew the admiral turned to Clive.
"Now for this white pirate," he said: "a most unpleasant matter, truly."
Signing to the marines to bring forward their prisoner, he threw himself
back upon the divan, leaving the matter in Clive's hands. Clive was
gazing hard at Diggle, who had lost the look of terror he had worn two
nights before, and stood before them in his usual attitude of careless
ease.
"You captured this man," said Clive, turning to Desmond, "within the
precincts of the fort?"
His hard level tone contrasted strongly with the urbaner manner of the
admiral.
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