Having breakfasted, he sent for the officers of his staff—Lawrence, Trevor, and Mackenzie—who were his friends and counsellors, to whom on all occasions but this he had entrusted his designs—to accompany him to the conference with Akbar Khan. Mackenzie, finding him alone, heard from him now, for the first time, the history of this new negotiation, and at once exclaimed that it was a plot. “A plot!” replied the Envoy, hastily; “let me alone for that—trust me for that!” He had braced himself up with desperate courage for the conference which was to be followed by such great results; and now he sent for the General to acquaint him with the nature of the proposals and to request his aid to carry the scheme into effect. Startled by the announcement, and little comprehending all the depths and intricacies of the perilous game which the Envoy had now in hand, Elphinstone asked what part the other Barukzyes, who had been foremost in the previous negotiations, were to take in those now on foot, and was told in reply that they were “not in the _plot_.” On the untutored ear of the single-minded veteran this significant monosyllable smote with an ominous sound. He began now to understand the double game which was being played by the Envoy on one side, and the young Barukzye Sirdar on the other, and he eagerly asked the former if he did not apprehend that some treachery was at work. “None at all,” said Macnaghten, in reply; “I wish you to have two regiments and two guns got ready, as speedily and as quietly as possible, for the capture of Mahmood Khan’s fort; the rest you may leave to me.” But still the General spoke of the danger of such machinations, and urged him to pause before he committed himself irretrievably to so perilous a course. Elphinstone had unfortunately been talking about danger so incessantly since the very commencement of the outbreak, that now, when he uttered only words of common sense and prudence, the warning notes fell upon Macnaghten’s ears like the old imbecile croakings of timidity and irresolution which had been irritating him for so many weeks, and he now turned away with impatience, saying, “I understand these things better than you.”[196] Elphinstone went; but in spite of Macnaghten’s confidence, he could not dispossess himself of the belief that treachery was brewing, and that the Envoy was rushing upon destruction. So, hoping that yet something might be done to arrest him, he sate down and wrote him a letter, pointing out the danger of dividing the force; dwelling upon the probable treachery of the Afghans, of whom he said the cantonments were full; and asking what guarantee there was for the truth of all that had been said. It was the last letter ever addressed to the Envoy. It never reached its destination.