tion was coming with a vengeance to punish the guilty, and to save this remnant if it were possible. General Havelock and his brave little brigade were on their way, making forced marches daily. The Nana roused himself to meet the danger. He had forwarded armies to resist their approach, but twice his forces were hurled back, bringing to him the news of their disaster. Reserving his own sacred person for the supreme venture, he now ordered his whole army to be got ready. But before setting out he took advice as to what was best to be done with the captives. It was seen that dead men or women tell no tales and give no evidence, and this was important in case of a reverse; while he also reasoned that, as the British were approaching solely for the purpose of releasing their friends, they would not risk another battle for the purpose merely of burying them, but would be only too glad of an excuse to avoid meeting the Peishwa in the field. So he and his council concluded. Their decision was that the ladies should die, and that, too, without further delay, as the army must march in the morning.
We purposely omit many of the details of the horrors of that dreadful evening, as we have read them or heard them described by Havelock's men, and will try to give the result in brief terms. About half past four o'clock that afternoon—the 15th—the woman called “The Begum” informed the ladies that they were to be killed. But the Sepoys refused to execute the order, and there was a pause. Nana Sahib was not thus to be balked, even though the widows of Bajee Rao, his step-mothers by adoption, most earnestly remonstrated against the act. It was all in vain. The Nana found his agents. Five men—some of whom were butchers by profession—undertook the work for him. With their knives and swords they entered, and the door was fastened behind them. The shrieks and scuffling within told those without that these journeymen were executing their master's will. The evidence shows that it took them exactly an hour and a half to finish it; they then came out again, having earned their hire. They were paid, it is said, one rupee (fifty cents) for each lady, or one hundred and three
