"Always since then have I looked for a chance of escape. It came at last.
Some of the jailers went last night to the tamasha at Chinsura. I stole
out and got away. A sentry fired upon me, and hit me; but I am a good
swimmer and I plunged into the river. You know all that happened then, O
serang, and I beseech you leave this place; it is a dreadful place; some
harm will come to us all."
Desmond's knowledge of Bengali was as yet slight, and he caught only
portions of the man's narrative. But he understood enough to convince him
that he was at last on the track of the missing ladies; and when, shortly
afterwards, Hossain gave him in Urdu the whole of the story, he
determined at once to act on the information.
On the return of the two Bengalis, he arranged with the serang to set
them at work on some imaginary repairs to the boat: that pretext for
delay was as good as another. Then, Hossain having reassured the
fugitive, he himself landed and made his way up to the house.
It was closed. There was no sign of its being inhabited. But about a
hundred yards from the gate Desmond saw a basti {block of native huts},
and from one of the huts smoke was issuing. He sauntered up. Before the
door, lolling in unstudied dishabille, squatted a bearded, turbaned
Mohammedan, whom from his rotundity Desmond guessed to be the khansaman
of the big house.
"Salaam aleikam {peace be with you!}, khansaman!" said Desmond suavely.
"Pardon the curiosity of an ignorant sailor from Gujarat.
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