"Ah, yes! yes!"
Miska ran and struck the gong, then staggered back to the diwan and fell upon it, hiding her face in her hands. The sounds of torture ceased.
Fo-Hi closed the door and stood looking at her where she lay.
"I permit you some moments of reflection," he said, "in order that you may compose yourself to receive the addresses which I shall presently have the honour, and joy, of making to you. Yes—this door is unlocked." He threw the keys on the table. "I respect your promise … and Chunda Lal guards the outer exits."
He opened the further door, by which he had entered, and went out.
Miska, through the fingers of her shielding hands, watched him go.
When he had disappeared she sprang up, clenching her teeth, and her face was contorted with anguish. She began to move aimlessly about the room, glancing at the many strange objects on the big table and fearfully at the canopied chair beside which hung the bronze bell. Finally:
"Oh, Chunda Lal! Chunda Lal!" she moaned, and threw herself face downward on the diwan, sobbing wildly.
So she lay, her whole body quivering with the frenzy of her emotions, and as she lay there, inch by inch, cautiously, the nearer door began to open. Chunda Lal looked in.
Finding the room to be occupied only by Miska, he crossed rapidly to the diwan, bending over her with infinite pity and tenderness.
"Miska!" he whispered softly.
As though an adder had touched her, Miska sprang to her feet—and back from the Hindu. Her eyes flashed fiercely.
"Ah! you! you!" she cried at him, with a repressed savagery that spoke of the Oriental blood in her veins. "Do not speak to me—look at me! Do not come near me! I hate you! God! how I hate you!"
"Miska! Miska!" he said beseechingly—"you pierce my heart! you kill me! Can you not understand——"
"Go! go!"
She drew back from him, clenching and unclenching her jewelled fingers and glaring madly into his eyes.
"Look, Miska!" He took the gold chain and amulet from his bosom. "Your token! Can you not understand! Yah Allah! how little you trust me— and I would die for one glance of your eyes!
"He—Stuart Sahib—has gone, gone long since!"
"Ah! Chunda Lal!"
Miska swayed dizzily and extended her hands towards him. Chunda Lal glanced fearfully about him.
"Did I not," he whispered, with an intense ardour in his soft voice,— "did I not lay my life, my service, all I have, at your feet? Did I not vow to serve you in the name of Bhowani! He is long since gone to bring his friends—who are searching from house to house along the river. At any moment they may be here!"
Miska dropped weakly upon her knees before him and clasped his hand.
"Chunda Lal, my friend! Oh, forgive me!" Her voice broke. "Forgive … "
Chunda Lal raised her gently.
"Not upon your knees to me, Miska. It was a little thing to do—for you. Did I not tell you that he had cast his eyes upon you? Mine was the voice you heard to cry out. Ah! you do not know; it is to gain time that I seem to serve him! Only this, Miska"—he revealed the blade of a concealed knife—"stand between Fo-Hi and—you! Had I not read it in his eyes!"
He raised his glance upward frantically.
"Jey Bhowani! give me strength, give me courage! For if I fail … "
He glared at her passionately, clutching his bosom; then, pressing the necklet to his lips, he concealed it again, and bent, whispering urgently:
"Listen again—I reveal it to you without price or hope of reward, for I know there is no love in your heart to give, Miska; I know that it takes you out of my sight for always. But I tell you what I learn in the house of Abdul Rozan. Your life is your own, Miska! With the needle"—yet closer he bent to her ear and even softer he spoke—"he pricks your white skin—no more! The vial he sends contains a harmless cordial!"
"Chunda Lal!"
Miska swayed again dizzily, clutching at the Hindu for support.
"Quick! fly!" he said, leading her to the door. "I will see he does not pursue!"
"No, no! you shall shed no blood for me! Not even his. You come also!"
"And if he escape, and know that I was false to him, he will call me back, and I shall be dragged to those yellow eyes, though I am a thousand miles away! Inshalla! those eyes! No—I must strike swift, or he robs me of my strength."
For a long moment Miska hesitated.
"Then, I also remain, Chunda Lal, my friend! We will wait—and watch -and listen for the bells—here—that tell they are in the grounds of the house."
"Ah, Miska!" the glance of the Hindu grew fearful—"you are clever—but he is the Evil One! I fear for you. Fly now. There is yet time … "
A faint sound attracted Miska's attention. Placing a quivering finger to her lips, she gently thrust Chunda Lal out into the corridor.
"He returns!" she whispered: "If I call—come to me, my friend. But we have not long to wait!"
She closed the door.
Chapter 5 What Happened to Stuart
Stuart had gained the end of the corridor, unmolested. There he found a short flight of steps, which he descended and came to a second corridor forming a right angle with the first. A lamp was hung at the foot of the steps, and by its light he discerned a shadowy figure standing at the further end of this second passage.
A moment he hesitated, peering eagerly along the corridor. The man who waited was Chunda Lal. Stuart approached him and silently placed in his hand the gold amulet.
Chunda Lal took it as one touching something holy, and raising it he kissed it with reverence. His dark eyes were sorrowful. Long and ardently he pressed the little trinket to his lips, then concealed it under the white robe which he wore and turned to Stuart. His eyes were sorrowful no more, but fierce as the eyes of a tiger.
"Follow!" he said.
He unlocked a door and stepped out into a neglected garden, Stuart close at his heels. The sky was cloudy, and the moon obscured. Never glancing back, Chunda Lal led the way along a path skirting a high wall upon which climbing fruit trees were growing until they came to a second door and this also the Hindu unlocked. He stood aside.
"To the end of this lane," he said, in his soft queerly modulated voice, "and along the turning to the left to the river bank. Follow the bank towards the palace and you will meet them."
"I owe you my life," said Stuart.
"Go! you owe me nothing," returned the Hindu fiercely.
Stuart turned and walked rapidly along the lane. Once he glanced back. Chunda Lal was looking after him … and he detected something that gleamed in his hand, gleamed not like gold but like the blade of a knife!
Turning the corner, Stuart began to run. For he was unarmed and still weak, and there had been that in the fierce black eyes of the Hindu when he had scorned Stuart's thanks which had bred suspicion and distrust.
From the position of the moon, Stuart judged the hour to be something after midnight. No living thing stirred about him. The lane in which now he found himself was skirted on one side by a hedge beyond which was open country and on the other by a continuation of the high wall which evidently enclosed the grounds of the house that he had just quitted. A cool breezed fanned his face, and he knew that he was approaching the Thames. Ten more paces and he came to the bank.