Go to Mr. Clive
at once; and let me know what happens."
Desmond found Clive in company with Mr. Watts, and Rai Durlabh, Mr.
Scrafton and Omichand. He had some difficulty in obtaining admittance;
only his representation that he bore important news prevailed with the
darwan. He learned afterwards that the great bankers, the Seths, had just
left the meeting, after it had been decided that, owing to the depletion
of the treasury, only one-half of the immense sums promised to Clive and
the English in Mir Jafar's treaty could be paid at once, the remainder to
follow in three years.
Desmond entered the room just in time to hear Clive say to Scrafton:
"It is now time to undeceive Omichand."
Mr. Scrafton went up to the Sikh, and said quietly in Hindustani:
"Omichand, the red paper is a trick: you are to have nothing."
Omichand stood for a moment dazed: then he fell back in a faint and was
carried by his attendants from the room. The shock had unhinged the poor
man's reason: he lingered insane for eighteen months and died.
At the time Desmond knew nothing of the deceit that had been practised on
him; but in the light of his after knowledge he understood the strange
expression that clouded Clive's face as the old man was carried away: a
look of pity mingled with contempt. Catching sight of Desmond, the great
soldier flashed out:
"What do you mean, sir, by absenting yourself so long? I sent you in
advance because I thought you would be speedy.
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