The man uttered an exclamation in French, which ended in a wheeze as
Bulger's strong fingers clutched his windpipe.

But the next moment an unlooked-for diversion occurred. Attracted by the
sound of the rapid scuffle, a number of natives armed with lathis
{bludgeons} rushed across the compound into the street, and came swiftly
to the rescue. Desmond and his companion had perforce to release their
prisoners and turn to defend themselves. With their backs against the
wall they met the assailants, Desmond with his rapier, Bulger with his
hook, each dexterously warding off the furious blows of the excited
natives. Diggle and the Frenchman took instant advantage of the
opportunity to slip away, and the Englishmen had already got home more
than one shrewd blow, provoking yells of pain from the attackers, when
the onslaught suddenly ceased, and the natives stood rigid, as if under a
spell. Looking round, Desmond saw at the gate a bent old figure with
dusky, wrinkled face and prominent eyes. He wore a turban in which a
jewel sparkled, and his white garment was girt with a yellow sash.

"What is this, sahib?" he said severely in careful English, addressing
Desmond.

"'Tis pretty plain what it is," said Desmond somewhat hotly; "we have
been set upon by these six ruffians."

The newcomer motioned with his hand, and the men slunk away.

"I regret, sahib. The men are badmashes; Calcutta is unhappily in a
disturbed state."

"Badmashes or not, they came from your house--if this is your house."

"It is my house, sahib. My name is Omichand. I must inquire how the
badmashes came to be in my compound. I fear my darwan {doorkeeper} is at
fault."

"And what about the two men?"

"The two men, sahib?"

"Yes, the two Europeans who came first from the house, and were protected
by these ruffians?"

"You must be mistaken, sahib. English sahibs do not visit at the houses
of Indian gentlemen. If the sahib had been longer in Calcutta he would
know that."

A smile flickered on the Indian's face, but it was gone instantly.
Desmond was nonplussed. It was useless to contradict the merchant; he was
clearly not disposed to give any information; Diggle was gone. All he
could do was to return and report the matter to Mr. Merriman.

"Come along, Bulger," he said, with an unceremonious gesture to Omichand.
"We can do no good here."

"The old Ananias!" growled Bulger, as they walked away. "What in thunder
is Diggle's game here? I'd