Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
"No," said I, laughing, "not quite that; but I have some hope, and I
shall return to the Kotwal's chowree after a little time, and perhaps
the old creature may be in the bazar and may see me."
"Shall I accompany you?" asked he.
"No," said I, "I think it would mar the business; I will go alone; the
presence of another besides myself might prevent her, if I meet her,
from being communicative."
"As you will," said he; "as you are determined to carry the matter
to the utmost, you have a better chance of success than I have, and
besides you are a principal, while I could only be an agent."
Thus conversing, we arrived at the tents, and dismissing the soldiers
and money-carriers with a handsome present, I had the bags moved
into my father's tent, who was asleep. I ranged them before him, and
awakening him, pointed to them. He rubbed his eyes, grumbling at
being aroused from his slumber; but they were quickly fascinated by
the sight of the bags, and I could not help laughing heartily at his
astonishment, as he took them up one by one, guessing at their contents.
"What, my son! Ameer Ali, where hast thou got all this? There must be
five hundred rupees in each of them! One, two, three, four, five," said
he, counting them: "two thousand five hundred! impossible! My son, what
hast thou been doing? My brain is in astonishment. Where didst thou get
it?"
"There is just what you say, father," said I; "each contains five
hundred, or nearly. It is the price of the jewel you gave me to sell,
which it seems was worth more than we thought for. I asked at a venture
five thousand rupees, and I have brought you four thousand four hundred
and fifty, which was as much as I could get: here are hoondees for two
thousand, and the rest is in the bags."
"As much as you could get, boy!" cried my father; "why thou hast
done wonders. Mashalla! we are rich indeed; this is more than I ever
expected." And, his eyes fairly running over with tears, he embraced me
warmly.
"Now," said I, "as I have done good service, I have in return a favour
to beg, which I hope my father will grant; and it is a matter I dared
not settle without his sanction."
"Say on," said my father; "I can deny thee nothing."
"Why," continued I, "there is a Tuwaif of surpassing beauty, who sings
like a bulbul, and who is anxious to accompany us to Hyderabad. I dared
not allow it without speaking to you."
The old man's visage clouded. "A Tuwaif!" said he; "and dost thou not
remember, my son, all the cautions I have given thee against persons
of her condition, and hast thou so soon forgotten them as to get into
their company on the first occasion which presented itself?"
"I represent," said I, "that neither have I forgotten them, nor have I
gone into her company. I saw her at the Nuwab's durbar last night, but
did not even speak to her."
"Then how knowest thou that she desires to go from hence?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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