Ten minutes walking, and they approached a large tent surrounded by several smaller ones. A sentry challenged when they approached, but on Rujub giving his name, he at once resumed his walk up and down, and Rujub, followed by Bathurst, advanced and entered the tent. The Zemindar was seated on a divan smoking a hookah. Rujub bowed, but not with the deep reverence of one approaching his superior. “He is here,” he said. “Then you were not mistaken, Rujub?” “How could I be when I knew?” Rujub said. “I have done what I said, and have brought him straight to you. That was all I had to do with it; the rest is for your highness.” “I would rather that you should be present,” Por Sing said, as Rujub turned to withdraw. “No,” the latter replied; “in this matter it is for you to decide. I know not the Nana’s wishes, and your highness must take the responsibility. I have brought him to you rather than to the commander of the Sepoys, because your authority should be the greater; it is you and the other Oude chiefs who have borne the weight of this siege, and it is only right that it is you who should decide the conditions of surrender. The Sepoys are not our masters, and it is well they are not so; the Nana and the Oude chiefs have not taken up arms to free themselves from the English Raj to be ruled over by the men who have been the servants of the English.” “That is so,” the Zemindar said, stroking his beard; “well, I will talk with this person.” Rujub left the tent. “You do not know me, Por Sing?” Bathurst said, stepping forward from the entrance where he had hitherto stood; “I am the Sahib Bathurst.” “Is it so?” the Zemindar said, laying aside his pipe and rising to his feet; “none could come to me whom I would rather see. You have always proved yourself a just officer, and I have no complaint against you. We have often broken bread together, and it has grieved me to know that you were in yonder house. Do you come to me on your own account, or from the sahib who commands?”