heir
quarters. Leaving Meer Jaffier's officer to deal with them, I
dismounted from my elephant and pressed my way through into the
deserted palace, taking with me only two men as a protection. I did
not stay to explore the empty halls and dismantled chambers, but
hurried as fast as I could go into the garden, and on to the
well-remembered summer-house where I had caught my last glimpse of
Marian on that night a year ago. I ran up to the door at which we had
knocked the same night. It was standing open. I darted through, ran
into each room, climbed the stair, and searched every nook and cranny
above. Not a trace of her I sought was there.

Without lingering a moment I went on and explored the other buildings
in the garden. In some of them I found frightened women, left alone,
and expecting that I had come to slay them. But from none could I hear
anything of the English captive. Here and there a frightened eunuch,
dragged cowering from his hiding-place, recalled Marian's presence a
year before, but could or would tell me nothing of her fate. I raved
and stormed through the seraglio like one possessed, but it was all in
vain.

I turned back to the main building, by this time in the hands of the
new Nabob's servants, who were restoring it to some sort of order.
They told me that Surajah Dowlah had got away an hour previously,
having let himself down by a rope from a lattice into a boat on the
river, with only two attendants. When I showed them the papers I had
received from their master and also from Colonel Clive, they offered
me every assistance, and even joined in the search. During several
hours we ransacked every part of the palace, but found no signs of
either of the English prisoners. The principal eunuchs were called and
questioned. At first they declined to speak, but when one of the Moors
with me threatened them with torture they became more communicative,
and finally one of them asked if we had gone down into the secret
dungeons.

This hint sent a cold shiver through my veins. I bade the eunuch lead
the way, and he conducted us through a secret door, down a narrow
winding stair into a horrible basement, constructed under the bed of
the Ganges, where no light could come by day or night, except that
brought by the torches of the gaolers. The place was like a maze, with
branching passages and cells, almost every one of which held some
victim of Oriental tyranny. But I had neither eyes nor thoughts for
what was