Confessions of a Thug

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER XIX.

  I had now only two matters on my hands; one to discover Zora, if Icould, the other to endeavour to get the bills of exchange I hadbrought with me cashed. Of the first I had but little hope; for sincethe day I went to her house, although I had constantly men on thewatch about it, I could discover nothing of her or of the old nurse;the latter I had bribed handsomely, and I knew if it was possible toconvey to me any information of her I loved, she would do so. I hadseveral times passed the house myself, in the hope of seeing Zora bysome accident or other, but it was in vain; and at the time I now speakof, I had almost given her up in despair. Had it not been, Sahib, forthe wild interest of my trade, I should have sunk into apathy andwretchedness--so fondly, so deeply did I love her. It was this whichrescued me from myself, for I could not be behind the rest in seekingadventures; and once that I had a band entirely under my own direction,I was incessantly occupied in finding employment for it, and taking myown part in the catastrophes which ensued.

  The day after the rescue of our brethren we held a consultation, atwhich the principal members of the band were present. I need notrelate particulars; suffice it to say, that all agreed in thinkingwe had remained long enough consistently with our safety, and it wasresolved to depart in the course of the next day, or at most the dayafter. One by one the parties, as they were then divided, were to takethe nearest road towards Beeder, which led through Puttuncherroo; andthe last-mentioned place was to be the rendezvous whence we shouldproceed in company. Little time, therefore, remained to me; and assoon as I possibly could, I took Bhudrinath and Motee-ram with me, andwe went into the city. We sat down on the steps of the Char Minar.Wonderful, indeed, were the stories we heard of our skirmish with theKotwal's soldiers; the accounts of the killed and wounded on each sidewere ludicrously inconsistent, and you may imagine how we enjoyedthe various relations we heard, all either from persons who declaredthat they had been eyewitnesses of the matter, or who had heard itfrom undoubted authority. But it was not our errand to waste time bylistening to idle tales, not one of which contained a word of truth,but to get the money for the bills we had found among the effects ofSyud Mahomed Ali, alias Kumal Khan, and we had repaired to the CharMinar as the most likely place to meet with a person who could readthem, and without suspicion tell us upon whom they were drawn.

  Observing as we sat a miserable half-starved-looking wretch, with apen stuck between his turban and his ear, an ink-bottle hanging by hisside, and a roll of paper under his arm, I fixed upon him as a likelyperson to suit our purpose. I beckoned to him, and he ran eagerlytowards us. "Canst thou read Goozerattee?" I asked.

  "Noble sir, I can not only read but write it, for it is my nativetongue; what are my lord's commands?"

  "Simply," said I, "to read a hoondee--no great matter;" and I handedhim one of the bills.

  "It is an order, Sahib, drawn in favour of Kumal Khan (my lord's name Ipresume), by Bearee Mul of Nandair, upon Gopal Chund Bisn Chund of theBegum Bazar, for four hundred rupees, at nine days' sight."

  "Is it correctly drawn?" I asked.

  The fellow looked at the bill, and turned it round and round, examiningevery part of it. "Does your worship suspect it?"

  "Alla forbid!" said I; "for if it is wrong, I and these worthyassociates of mine are ruined, for we have more like it, and for largersums."

  "I see nothing wrong in the bill," said the man; "but let me see theothers." I showed them.

  "They are all correct," said he; "you have only to take them foracceptance, and you are sure of your money."

  "Is the firm upon whom they are drawn well known?"

  "They have a great deal of country business in hoondees," said the man,"and are on that account perhaps less known than many of our leadingbankers, but nevertheless the firm is most respectable."

  "Where did you say they live?"

  "In the Begum Bazar. If your worships wish it I will accompany youthither."

  "Good," said I, "do so; we are strangers, and might not readily findthe house. You shall be rewarded for your trouble."

  We went out of the city by a small gate at the end of a streetwhich led down from the Char Minar,--I think it is called the Delhigate,--and turning to the left, after crossing the river, we were soonin the midst of the populous and wealthy suburb in which the bankerswe sought resided. The road through the principal street was almostentirely blocked up by bags of grain, bales of merchandize, tetheredbullocks belonging to the grain-carriers, and empty carts; and it wasas much as we could do to keep together, both from these causes andthe crowd of people. The noise too of the crowd, of the buying andselling in the bazar, the curses and execrations of bullock-drivers andunloaders, the cries of men measuring grain, and a thousand others,made a din and confusion which I had never heard equalled. However, bydint of pushing and elbowing our way, we reached a respectable-lookinghouse, and were introduced to one of the partners by the man we hadtaken with us.

  I put a bold face on the matter and presented one of the hoondees. TheSahoukar was an old man, and taking a pair of spectacles from a fold inhis turban, he placed them on the end of his nose and carefully readthe hoondee; he afterwards turned it round and round, and examined itmost carefully, looking from time to time most suspiciously at me overhis glasses. I own this would have been unpleasant had I been alone,but with the two companions I had brought with me I cared not; had itcome to the worst, our weapons were ready, and we would have used themfor our liberty.

  "I wish to speak a few words with you, if you will follow me into thenext room," said the Sahoukar, pointing to one which led from that inwhich we sat. He rose, and I followed him.

  "How came you to be possessed of this?" said he, anxiously; "and whoare you?"

  "It matters not who I am," I replied; "and it must suffice for you toknow that I am to receive the money for that hoondee, and for thesealso;" and I showed him the others.

  "Most extraordinary!" he exclaimed after he had examined them. "Icannot understand it. It is most strange that they should be presentedby another. Young man, by what authority are you here to receive thismoney?"

  "By his for whom they were drawn," I replied.

  "His name, and the Sahoukar's who drew them?"

  "Kumal Khan,--and the Sahoukar's Bearee Mul."

  "That will not do," said the Sahoukar; "you have blundered in yourerrand, young man; the drawer's name any one could have told you."

  "Perhaps this may enlighten you further upon the subject," said I, andI took from my waistband the seal of the Syud.

  He examined it, and going to a box in the room he took from it a bundleof papers. He turned them over rapidly. "Ay, here they are," said he,reading, "'Accounts of Syud Mahomed Ali;' and now, young man, if thereis deceit in that seal it can be easily proved, for behold the seal ofthe worthy Syud himself;" and he showed me an impression on one of thepapers.

  I confess I had been in much suspense, for had I by any unlucky chancegot hold of the wrong seal my detection would have certainly followed;but still I had taken the ring from the man's own finger, and it wasnot likely that he had any other. The instant I saw the impression,however, I was satisfied that it was the right one.

  "Now for the proof," said the Sahoukar, rubbing the seal over with inkand wetting a piece of paper with his tongue. "If you have attempteddeceit, young man, your detection is certain. Shall I stamp it?"

  "Certainly," said I; "I am innocent of any attempt to deceive you. Theworthy Syud gave me the seal in order that you might be satisfied."

  He pressed the seal to the paper and withdrew it; the impressionwas perfect, and exactly corresponded with that on the paper ofaccounts. "This is correct," he said, at length; "though I cannot readPersian, the letters appear the same, and the size is exact. I cannot,therefore, doubt longer; but still it is most strange."

  "I can only say," said I, "that I am the Syud's confidential agent,whom he has sent to you for the money; if you will not pay it, say so,that I may write to him."

  "By no means,"
said the Sahoukar; "the money is here. But why did notthe Syud come himself? the bills are made payable to him alone."

  "True," said I, "they are; but if you are in his confidence, as youseem to be, you will know that there are good reasons for his absencefrom the city at present, and as he wanted the money he has sent me forit."

  "And where is he?"

  "That I cannot tell you," said I; "it can be divulged to no one;suffice it for you to know that when the proper time comes he willemerge from his place of concealment." And I told the truth, Sahib, forwill he not rise at the day of judgment? And Ameer Ali laughed heartilyat his own conceit.

  "Well," said the Sahoukar, "no doubt remains as to your right to themoney. When do you want it? the bills are at nine days' sight."

  "Now; I have no time to lose, I must depart in the morning. You candeduct the interest for nine days. But stay," I continued, "the Syudtold me that if he owed you anything you were to deduct it, and if anybalance of his remained in your hands you were to pay it to me."

  "Good," replied the Sahoukar; "I will see;" and he turned to his books."Ah, here is the account. Last balance struck the fifteenth of Suffer,nearly a year ago,--in his favour three hundred and twelve rupees, fourannas."

  "So much the better," said I; "now pay me the moneys and write areceipt; I will sign it with the seal, which I must take back with me."

  The Sahoukar called to a man inside. "Here," said he, "register thesehoondees and get the money for them, and make out a receipt. Yourname?" said he to me.

  "Ameer Ali, an unworthy Syud." The money was duly counted out, atrifling deduction made for interest, and the whole paid to me. I putmy own seal as well as that of the Syud to the receipt, and afterseeing the balance in the Sahoukar's books duly cancelled there was nolonger cause to delay.

  "How will you carry all that money?" said the Sahoukar; "this is nota safe place for people to be seen out at so late an hour" (for theevening was now closing fast) "with such a sum in their possession."

  "Content yourself," said I; "we are three stout fellows, and well ableto defend our charge."

  "You had better take two of my men, at any rate, to carry the money."

  "I will carry some, if I am permitted," said the man we had broughtwith us. "Bughwan knows I have eaten nothing to-day and knew not whereto get a meal till these kind gentlemen met me; and I may perhaps earna trifling sum above what they have promised me."

  "Good," said I; "how much can you carry?"

  "Two thousand rupees," he replied, "if my lord will try me."

  "Very well, then take up that bag." The rest we divided betweenourselves, and departed. We did not return as we had gone, but avoidingthe city, passed by the house of the English Resident, crossed theriver below it, and on the other side struck into some close lanes,which led to the suburb we lived in. As we went along, I said toBhudrinath in Ramasee, which I had now learned, "That fellow must notlive; our secret is safe with the Sahoukar, but not with another. Whatdo you say?"

  "I agree with you," said he. "We can throw the body into a well; andthere is one not far off I think; I bathed there this morning."

  "Very well," said I; "when you see the place give the signal. I willsettle all our accounts with him for his trouble and carriage of ourmoney."

  We came to the well, and the signal was given; I was ready and myvictim also, but he struggled hard, as the bag of rupees was on hisshoulders, and my roomal had not fair play. He died, however, and wethrew him into the well, with a large stone tied in his clothes to sinkhim. Strange, Sahib, that after protesting his poverty as he had done,we should have found forty-three rupees in his girdle!

  You may judge of my father's joy at my success; and to prove his senseof the value of my address and ready wit, he presented me with fivehundred rupees out of the sum I had brought. With this at my disposal Idetermined to make a last attempt for Zora, for I thought that with itI might bribe the old woman who called herself her mother; and late asit was, I pleaded some excuse and set off for the city. I soon reachedthe now well-known street, and finding the door open I entered, and wasushered into the presence of the old woman and Zora's sister Zenat.They rose on seeing me, and welcomed me kindly. "You have not been withus, Meer Sahib, since the Mohorum," said the old woman as she crackedall her fingers against her temples. "You knew that you would always beour most favoured guest, and yet we have not seen you. Why has therebeen this estrangement from us?"

  I did not like to accuse the old woman of turning me from the door, asI have related before, so I said I had been absent from the city, andhaving only just returned had come to pay my respects to her. "And now,mother," said I, "where is Zora? Why is the rose separated from thenightingale?"

  "Zora!" said the old woman; "why, have you not forgotten that foolishgirl? Is there not Zenatbee, who is dying for you, and has raved aboutyou ever since she saw you?"

  "Toba! Toba!" cried Zenat, covering her face affectedly. "For shame,mother! how can you speak so? how can you tell such lies?"

  "I say the truth, Meer Sahib; I swear the foolish girl's head has beenturned by your beauty;" and she stroked my chin caressingly.

  What could I do? I saw at once that if I did not affect love forZenat I should never hear aught of Zora; but I could not forgether so easily, and I hated Zenat for her love. I thought it betterto come to terms at once if I could. "Mother," said I, "I am proudof your daughter's love, and to one so young as I am such marks ofpreference as you say she is inclined to show me are most flattering;nevertheless, I cannot forget Zora; and tell me, by your soul, am I tosee her or not? Now hear me; I am not a rich man, not one who couldlavish thousands upon her, but what I have is hers for ever, and yourstoo, if you will give her to me. Will you part with her?"

  "What do you offer?" said the old woman. "Methinks you must be one ofour nobles in disguise to come here with such a proposition."

  "I am no noble," said I, "but a poor Syud. I have five hundred rupees,and they are yours if you make Zora mine for ever; say the word, andto-morrow I will be present; we will send for a Moola, and the nikashall be performed."

  "Five hundred rupees!" cried the old woman, and she and her daughterburst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "Five hundred rupees!"continued she at length, when she could speak; "oh, man, thou arteither mad or drunk!"

  "I am neither the one nor the other," I replied, very angrily; "I am assober as either of you, nay far more so."

  "Then if you are so," said the old wretch, "what, in the name ofAlla, has come to you, that you think we would part with Zora forfive hundred rupees? Five thousand and twice as much would not besufficient."

  "Then," said I, "you are a pair of the devil's children, and I spit atyou. Not content with spurning me from your house like a dog, you nowdeny me the only happiness I looked to on earth. Women, have you nohearts?"

  "Yes," cried the old hag in a fury; "yes, we did spurn you, as I donow. Begone! and never dare to intrude as you have done this night, orI will see if I cannot bring a few stout fellows together to beat youout with sticks like a dog and a son of a dog as you are."

  "Peace! woman," cried I; "beware how you revile my father."

  "May his mouth be filled with earth and his grave defiled! May yourmother----"

  I could bear this no longer. I ran to the door for my shoes, and heldone in my hand threateningly. "Now," said I, "another word of abuse,and I will beat you on the mouth."

  It did not check her. A fresh torrent poured from her lips, and I wasreally provoked. I could bear it no longer. I rushed at her, beat heron the face with my shoe, and spat on her. The daughter hurried to thestair-head and raised cries of alarm. "Thief, thief! He is murderingus! Kasim Mahomed Ali, where are ye? We are murdered--we are defamed!Bring your swords, and kill him!"

  I had pretty well belaboured the old woman, and thought it high timeto be off; so I rushed to the door, and seizing Zenat threw her to theother side of the room with all my force. I saw that she had a heavyfall, and I ran down the stairs: about half way
I met a man with adrawn sword; he stood, and was about to make a cut at me, but I seizedhis arm and hurled him down the steps, and as he rolled to the bottomI leaped over him and was outside the house in a moment. Well, thoughtI, as I went along, I have not got Zora, but I have slippered the oldshitan her mother, which is some satisfaction, and Bhudrinath willlaugh rarely when he hears of my exploit.