When Desmond’s messenger arrived in Calcutta, Mr. Merriman was away up the river, engaged in very serious business. The messenger had applied to the Governor, to members of the Council, to Captain Minchin and other officers, and the reply of one and all was the same: they could do nothing; it was more important that every man should be employed in strengthening the defences of Calcutta than in going up-country on what might prove a vain and useless errand. But Toley happened to be in the town, and hearing of the difficulties and perils of his friend Burke, with the captain’s consent he had hastily collected the crew of the _Hormuzzeer_, that still lay off the Fort, and led them, under the guidance of the messenger, to support him. Meeting Surendra Nath, and learning from him that a fight was imminent, he had pushed on with all speed, the Babu leading the way. "It was well done," said Desmond warmly. "We owe our lives to you, and Mr. Merriman his goods. But what was the business that took Mr. Merriman from Calcutta at this time of trouble?" "Trouble of his own, Burke," said Mr. Toley. "I guess he’d better have let the Nawab keep his goods and sent you to look after his women-folk." "What do you mean? I left the ladies at Khulna; what has happened to them?" "’Tis what Mr. Merriman would fain know. They’ve disappeared, gone clean out of sight." "But the peons?" "Gone too. Nothing heard or seen of them." This serious news came as a shock to Desmond. If he had only known! How willingly he would have let Coja Solomon do what he pleased with the goods, and hastened to the help of the wife and daughter Mr. Merriman held so dear! While in Cossimbazar, he had heard from Mr. Watts terrible stories of the Nawab’s villainy, which no respect of persons held in check. He feared that if Mrs. Merriman and Phyllis had indeed fallen into Siraj-uddaula’s hands, they were lost to their family and friends for ever. But, eager as he was to get back to Calcutta and join Mr. Merriman in searching for them, he had a strange certainty that it was not to be. The faintness that he had already felt returned. His head was burning and throbbing; his ears buzzed; his limbs ached; his whole frame was seized at moments with paroxysms of shivering which no effort could control. Unknown to himself the seeds of malarial fever had found a lodgment in his system. While listening to Toley’s story, he had reclined on the ground. When he tried to rise, he was overcome by giddiness and nausea. "I am done up," he continued. "Mr. Toley, you must take charge and get these goods conveyed to Calcutta. Lose no time."