The morning came, and then the night again, and the next morning, and so on for several mornings, the defenders holding out bravely. Meanwhile the Nana Sahib was chafing with rage. He had not counted upon such a stubborn resistance. The indomitable pluck of these English was something that passed his comprehension. It irritated him beyond measure. The city over which he wished to rule was in a state of turmoil through it. His army was being shattered. Some of his best Sepoy officers had been killed by the fire from the defences; and, to make matters worse, cholera had broken out amongst the troops, and raged violently. Driven to desperation, he held counsel with his staff. “What can we do to subdue this people?” he asked of Azimoolah. “Nothing to subdue them,” was the answer. And for the first time in his life, perhaps, Azimoolah spoke the truth. “What shall we do to crush them, then?” the Nana went on; “I would hack them to mince-meat, if I could get near enough, but that seems impossible.” “Scarcely so impossible as your Highness seems to imagine,” made answer Azimoolah, as his face glowed with the inhuman cruelty that stirred his heart. “How shall we reach them?” was the angry question of his master. “By stratagem.” “Ah, that is good! But how?” “These people are reduced to extremity. They have many women and children with them; for their sakes they will be glad to accept terms. Let us proclaim a truce, and offer, as a condition of their laying down their arms, to convey them by water to Allahabad.” The Nana laughed as he observed-- “You are an excellent counsellor, Azi, and I like your scheme; but having got them out, what then?” He asked this question with a great deal of significance; for although a diabolical thought was shaping itself in his brain, his recreant heart dare not give it words. And so he waited for his tool to make the suggestion. “Having got them out, I think the rest is easy, your Highness.” “Well, well,” the other cried, impatiently, as Azimoolah seemed to dwell too long upon his words. “We will provide them with carriage down to the river. There we will have a fleet of large, thatched-roof boats. On board of these boats the English people, who have given you so much trouble, shall embark.” “Well, go on--I follow,” said the Nana, as Azimoolah paused again. “Having got them on board, what then?” “We will slaughter them, your Highness--man, woman, and child. Not one shall live to tell the tale. On each side of the river we will have heavy guns posted, and our troops shall line the banks. A mouse would not be able to escape.” “Good! I leave all to you,” was the Nana’s only answer. But his tone of voice betrayed the joy he felt. Azimoolah retired to his tent, and, calling for writing materials and pen, with his own hand he wrote the following missive in English:--