"Wait till I come."

He seemed to hear the words plainly, just as he had heard Rujub's summons before.

"That's it; it is Rujub. How is it that he can make me hear in this way? I am sure it was his voice. Anyhow, I will wait. It shows he is thinking of me, and I am sure he will help me. I know well enough I could do nothing by myself."

Bathurst assumed with unquestioning faith that Isobel Hannay was alive. He had no reason for his confidence. That first shower of grape might have killed her as it killed others, but he would not admit the doubt in his mind. Wilson's description of what had happened while he was insensible was one of the grounds of this confidence.

He had heard women scream. Mrs. Hunter and her daughter were the only other women in the boat. Isobel would not have screamed had those muskets been pointed at her, nor did he think the others would have done so. They screamed when they saw the natives about to murder those who were with them. The three women were sitting together, and if one had fallen by the grape shot all would probably have been killed. He felt confident, therefore, that she had escaped; he believed he would have known it had she been killed.

"If I can be influenced by this juggler, surely I should have felt it had Isobel died," he argued, and was satisfied that she was still alive.

What, however, more than anything else gave him hope was the picture on the smoke. "Everything else has come true," he said to himself; "why should not that? Wilson spoke of the Doctor as dead. I will not believe it; for if he is dead, the picture is false. Why should that thing of all others have been shown to me unless it had been true? What seemed impossible to me—that I should be fighting like a brave man—has been verified. Why should not this? I should have laughed at such superstition six months ago; now I cling to it as my one ground for hope. Well, I will wait if I have to stay here until tomorrow night."

Noiselessly he moved about in the little wood, going to the edge and looking out, pacing to and fro with quick steps, his face set in a frown, occasionally muttering to himself. He was in a fever of impatience. He longed to be doing something, even if that something led to his detention and death. He said to himself that he should not care so that Isobel Hannay did but know that he had died in trying to rescue her.

The sun rose, and he saw the peasants in the fields, and caught the note of a bugle sounding from the lines at Cawnpore. At last—it had seemed to him an age, but the sun had been up only an hour—he saw a figure coming along the river bank. As it approached he told himself that it was the juggler; if so, he had laid aside the garments in which he last saw him, and was now attired as when they first met. When he saw him turn off from the river bank and advance straight towards the wood, he had no doubt that it was the man he expected.

"Thanks be to the holy ones that you have escaped, sahib," Rujub said, as soon as he came within speaking distance of Bathurst. "I was in an agony last night. I was with you in thought, and saw the boats approaching the ambuscade. I saw you leap over and swim to shore. I saw you fall, and I cried out. For a moment I thought you were killed. Then I saw you go on and fall again, and saw your friends carry you in. I watched you recover and come on here, and then I willed it that you should wait here till I came for you. I have brought you a disguise, for I did not know that you had one with you. But, first of all, sit down and let me dress your wound afresh. I have brought all that is necessary for it."

"You are a true fried, Rujub. I relied upon you for aid; do you know why I waited here instead of going down with the others?"

"I know, sahib. I can tell your thoughts as easily when you are away from me as I can when we are together."

"Can you do this with all people?"

"No, my lord; to be able to read another's thoughts it is necessary there should be a mystic relation established between them. As I walked beside your horse when you carried my daughter before you after saving her life, I felt that this relation had commenced, and that henceforward our fates were connected. It was necessary that you should have confidence in me, and it was for that reason that I showed you some of the feats that we rarely exhibit, and proved to you that I possessed powers with which you were unacquainted. But in thought reading my daughter has greater powers than I have, and it was she who last night followed you on your journey, sitting with her hand in mine, so that my mind followed hers."

"Do you know all that happened last night, Rujub?" Bathurst said, summoning up courage to ask the question that had been on his lips from the first.

"I only know, my lord, that the party was destroyed, save three white women, who were brought in just as the sun rose this morning. One was the lady behind whose chair you stood the night I performed at Deennugghur, the lady about whom you are thinking. I do not know the other two; one was getting on in life, the other was a young one."

The relief was so great that Bathurst turned away, unable for a while to continue the conversation. When he resumed the talk, he asked, "Did you see them yourself, Rujub?"

"I saw them, sahib; they were brought in on a gun carriage."

"How did they look, Rujub?"

"The old one looked calm and sad. She did not seem to hear the shouts of the budmashes as they passed along. She held the young one close to her. That one seemed worn out with grief and terror. Your memsahib sat upright; she was very pale and changed from the time I saw her that evening, but she held her head high, and looked almost scornfully at the men who shook their fists and cried at her."

"And they put them with the other women that they have taken prisoners?"

Rujub hesitated.

"They have put the other two there, sahib, but her they took to Bithoor."

Bathurst started, and an exclamation of horror and rage burst from him.

"To the Rajah's!" he exclaimed. "To that scoundrel! Come, let us go. Why are we staying here?"

"We can do nothing for the moment. Before I started I sent off my daughter to Bithoor; she knows many there, and will find out what is being done and bring us word, for I dare not show myself there. The Rajah is furious with me because I did not support the Sepoys, and suffered conditions to be made with your people, but now that all has turned out as he wished, I will in a short time present myself before him again, but for the moment it was better that my daughter should go, as I had to come to you. But first you had better put on the disguise I have brought you. You are too big and strong to pass without notice in that peasant's dress. The one I have brought you is such as is worn by the rough people; the budmashes of Cawnpore. I can procure others afterwards when we see what had best be done. It will be easy enough to enter Bithoor, for all is confusion there, and men come and go as they choose, but it will be well nigh impossible for you to penetrate where the memsahib will be placed. Even for me, known as I am to all the Rajah's officers, it would be impossible to do so; it is my daughter in whom we shall have to trust."

Bathurst rapidly put on the clothes that Rujub had brought with him, and thrust a sword, two daggers, and a brace of long barreled pistols into the sash round his waist.

"Your color is not dark enough, sahib. I have brought dye with me; but first I must dress the wound on your head, and bandage it more neatly, so that the blood stained swathings will not show below the folds of your turban."

Bathurst submitted himself impatiently to Rujub's hands. The latter cut off all the hair that would show under the turban, dyed the skin the same color as the other parts, and finally, after darkening his eyebrows, eyelashes, and mustache, pronounced that he would pass anywhere without attracting attention. Then they started at a quick walk along the river, crossed by the ferryboat to Cawnpore, and made their way to a quiet street in the native town.

"This is my house for the present," Rujub said, producing a key and unlocking a door. He shouted as he closed the door behind him, and an old woman appeared.

"Is the meal prepared?" he asked.

"It is ready," she said.

"That is right. Tell Rhuman to put the pony into the cart."

He then led the way into a comfortably furnished apartment where a meal was laid.

"Eat, my lord," he said; "you need it, and will require your strength."

Bathurst, who, during his walk, had felt the effects of the loss of blood and anxiety, at once seated himself at the table and ate, at first languidly, but as appetite came, more heartily, and felt still more benefited by a bottle of excellent wine Rujub had placed beside him. The latter returned to the room just as he had finished. He was now attired as he had been when Bathurst last met him at Deennugghur.

"I feel another man, Rujub, and fit for anything."

"The cart is ready," Rujub said. "I have already taken my meal; we do not eat meat, and live entirely on vegetables. Meat clouds the senses, and simple food, and little of it, is necessary for those who would enter the inner brotherhood."

At the door a small native cart was standing with a pony in the shafts.

"You will go with us, Rhuman," Rujub said, as he and Bathurst took their seats in the cart.

The boy squatted down at Rujub's feet, taking the reins and whip, and the pony started off at a brisk pace. Upon the way Rujub talked of various matters, of the reports of the force that was gathering at Allahabad, and the madness of the British in supposing that two or three thousand men could withstand the forces of the Nana.

"They would be eaten up," he said; "the troops will go out to meet them; they will never arrive within sight of Cawnpore."

As Bathurst saw that he was talking for the boy to hear, rather than to himself, he agreed loudly with all that he said, and boasted that even without the Nana's troops and the Sepoys, the people of Cawnpore could cut the English dogs to pieces.

The drive was not a long one, and the road was full of parties going to or returning from Bithoor—groups of Sepoy officers, parties of budmashes from Cawnpore, mounted messengers, landowners with their retainers, and others. Arriving within a quarter of a mile of the palace, Rujub ordered the boy to draw aside.

"Take the horse down that road," he said, "and wait there until we return. We may be some time. If we are not back by the time the sun sets, you will return home."

As they approached the palace Bathurst scanned every window, as if he hoped to see Isobel's face at one of them. Entering the garden, they avoided the terrace in front of the house, and sauntering through the groups of people who had gathered discussing the latest news, they took their seat in a secluded corner.

Bathurst thought of the last time he had been there, when there had been a fete given by the Rajah to the residents of Cawnpore, and contrasted the present with the past. Then the gardens were lighted up, and a crowd of officers and civilians with ladies in white dresses had strolled along the terrace to the sound of gay music, while their host moved about among them, courteous, pleasant, and smiling. Now the greater portion of the men were dead, the women were prisoners in the hands of the native who had professed such friendship for them.

"Tell me, Rujub," he said presently, "more about this force at Allahabad. What is its strength likely to be?"

"They say there is one British regiment of the line, one of the plumed regiments with bare legs, and one of the white Madras regiments; they have a few guns, a very few horsemen; that is all, while there are twenty thousand troops here. How can they hope to win?"

"You will see they will win," Bathurst said sternly. "They have often fought well, but they will fight now as they never fought before; every man will feel himself an avenger of the foul treachery and the brutal massacres that have been committed. Were it but one regiment that is coming up instead of three, I would back it against the blood stained wretches."

"They are fighting for freedom," Rujub said.

"They are fighting for nothing of the sort," Bathurst replied hotly; "they are fighting for they know not what—change of masters, for license to plunder, and because they are ignorant and have been led away. I doubt not that at present, confident as they may be of victory, most of them in their hearts regret what they have done. They have forfeited their pensions, they have thrown away the benefits of their years of service, they have been faithless to their salt, and false to their oaths. It is true that they know they are fighting with ropes round their necks, but even that won't avail against the discipline and the fury of our troops. I feel as certain, Rujub, that, in spite of the odds against them, the English will triumph, as if I saw their column marching into the town. I don't profess to see the future as you do, but I know enough to tell you that ere long that palace you can see through the trees will be leveled to the ground, that it is as assuredly doomed as if fire had already been applied to its gilded beams."

Rujub nodded. "I know the palace is doomed. While I have looked at it it has seemed hidden by a cloud of smoke, but I did not think it was the work of the British—I thought of an accident."

"The Rajah may fire it with his own hands," Bathurst said; "but if he does not, it will be done for him."

"I have not told you yet, sahib," Rujub said, changing the subject, "how it was that I could neither prevent the attack on the boats nor warn you that it was coming. I knew at Deennugghur that news had been sent of the surrender to the Nana. I remained till I knew you were safely in the boats, and then rode to Cawnpore. My daughter was at the house when I arrived, and told me that the Nana was furious with me, and that it would not be safe for me to go near the palace. Thus, although I feared that an attack was intended, I thought it would not be until the boats passed the town. It was late before I learnt that a battery of artillery and some infantry had set out that afternoon. Then I tried to warn you, but I felt that I failed. You were not in a mood when my mind could communicate itself to yours."

"I felt very uneasy and restless," Bathurst said, "but I had not the same feeling that you were speaking to me I had that night at Deennugghur; but even had I known of the danger, there would have been no avoiding it. Had we landed, we must have been overtaken, and it would have come to the same thing. Tell me, Rujub, had you any idea when I saw you at Deennugghur that if we were taken prisoners Miss Hannay was to be brought here instead of being placed with the other ladies?"

"Yes, I knew it, sahib; the orders he gave to the Sepoys were that every man was to be killed, and that the women and children were to be taken to Cawnpore, except Miss Hannay, who was to be carried here at once. The Rajah had noticed her more than once when she was at Cawnpore, and had made up his mind that she should go to his zenana."

"Why did you not tell me when you were at Deennugghur?"

"What would have been the use, sahib? I hoped to save you all; besides, it was not until we saw her taken past this morning that we knew that the Miss Hannay who was to be taken to Bithoor was the lady whom my daughter, when she saw her with you that night, said at once that you loved. But had we known it, what good would it have done to have told you of the Rajah's orders? You could not have done more than you have done. But now we know, we will aid you to save her."

"How long will your daughter be before she comes? It is horrible waiting here."

"You must have patience, sahib. It will be no easy work to get the lady away. There will be guards and women to look after her. A lady is not to be stolen out of a zenana as a young bird is taken from its nest."

"It is all very well to say 'Be patient,'" Bathurst said, getting up and walking up and down with quick angry strides. "It is maddening to sit here doing nothing. If it were not that I had confidence in your power and will to aid me, I would go into the palace and stab Nana Sahib to the heart, though I were cut to pieces for it the moment afterwards."

"That would do no good to the lady, sahib," Rujub said calmly. "She would only be left without a friend, and the Nana's death might be the signal for the murder of every white prisoner. Ah, here comes my daughter."

Rabda came up quickly, and stopped before Bathurst with her head bowed and her arms crossed in an attitude of humility. She was dressed in the attire worn by the principal servants in attendance upon the zenana of a Hindoo prince.

"Well, what news, Rabda?" Bathurst asked eagerly.

"The light of my lord's heart is sick. She bore up till she arrived here and was handed over to the women. Then her strength failed her, and she fainted. She recovered, but she is lying weak and exhausted with all that she has gone through and suffered."

"Where is she now?"

"She is in the zenana, looking out into the women's court, that no men are ever allowed to enter."

"Has the Rajah seen her?"

"No, sahib. He was told the state that she was in, and the chief lady of the zenana sent him word that for the present she must have quiet and rest, but that in two or three days she might be fit to see him."

"That is something," Bathurst said thankfully. "Now we shall have time to think of some scheme for getting her out."

"You have been in the zenana yourself, Rabda?" Rujub asked.

"Yes, father; the mistress of the zenana saw me directly an attendant told her I was there. She has always been kind to me. I said that you were going on a journey, and asked her if I might stay with her and act as an attendant until you returned, and she at once assented. She asked if I should see you before you left, and when I said yes, she asked if you could not give her some spell that would turn the Rajah's thoughts from this white girl. She fears that if she should become first favorite in the zenana, she might take things in her hands as English women do, and make all sorts of changes. I told her that, doubtless, the English girl would do this, and that I thought she was wise to ask your assistance."

"You are mad, Rabda," her father said angrily; "what have I to do with spells and love philters?"

"No, father, I knew well enough you would not believe in such things, but I thought in this way I might see the lady, and communicate with her."

"A very good idea, Rabda," Bathurst said. "Is there nothing you can do, Rujub, to make her odious to the Nana?"

"Nothing, sahib. I could act upon some people's minds, and make them think that the young lady was afflicted by some loathsome disease, but not with the Nana. I have many times tried to influence him, but without success: his mind is too deep for mine to master, and between us there is no sympathy. Could I be present with him and the girl I might do something—that is, if the powers that aid me would act against him; but this I do not think."

"Rujub," Bathurst said suddenly, "there must have been medical stores taken when the camp was captured—drugs and things of that sort. Can you find out who has become possessed of them?"

"I might find out, sahib. Doubtless the men who looted the camp will have sold the drugs to the native shops, for English drugs are highly prized. Are there medicines that can act as the mistress of the zenana wishes?"

"No; but there are drugs that when applied externally would give the appearance of a terrible disease. There are acids whose touch would burn and blister the skin, and turn a beautiful face into a dreadful mask."

"But would it recover its fairness, sahib?"

"The traces might last for a long time, even for life, if too much were used, but I am sure Miss Hannay would not hesitate for a moment on that account."

"But you, sahib—would you risk her being disfigured?"

"What does it matter to me?" Bathurst asked sternly. "Do you think love is skin deep, and that 'tis only for a fair complexion that we choose our wives? Find me the drugs, and let Rabda take them into her with a line from me. One of them you can certainly get, for it is used, I believe, by gold and silver smiths. It is nitric acid; the other is caustic potash, or, as it is sometimes labeled, lunar caustic. It is in little sticks; but if you find out anyone who has bought drugs or cases of medicines, I will go with you and pick them out."

"There will be no difficulty about finding out where the English drugs are. They are certain to be at one of the shops where the native doctors buy their medicines."

"Let us go at once, then," Bathurst said. "You can prepare some harmless drink, and Rabda will tell the mistress of the zenana it will bring out a disfiguring eruption. We can be back here again this evening. Will you be here, Rabda, at sunset, and wait until we come? You can tell the woman that you have seen your father, and that he will supply her with what she requires. Make some excuse, if you can, to see the prisoner. Say you are curious to see the white woman who has bewitched the Nana, and if you get the opportunity whisper in her ear these words, 'Do not despair, friends are working for you.'"

Rabda repeated the English words several times over until she had them perfect; then she made her way back to the palace, while Bathurst and his companion proceeded at once to the spot where they had left their vehicle.

They had but little difficulty in finding what they required. Many of the shops displayed garments, weapons, jewelry, and other things, the plunder of the intrenchments of Cawnpore. Rujub entered several shops where drugs were sold, and finally one of the traders said, "I have a large black box full of drugs which I bought from a Sepoy for a rupee, but now that I have got it I do not know what to do with it. Some of the bottles doubtless contain poisons. I will sell it you for two rupees, which is the value of the box, which, as you see, is very strong and bound with iron. The contents I place no price upon."

"I will take it," Rujub said. "I know some of the English medicines, and may find a use for them."

He paid the money, called in a coolie, and bade him take up the chest and follow him, and they soon arrived at the juggler's house.

The box, which was a hospital medical chest, was filled with drugs of all kinds. Bathurst put a stick of caustic into a small vial, and half filled another, which had a glass stopper, with nitric acid, filled it up with water, and tried the effect of rubbing a few drops on his arm.

"That is strong enough for anything," he said, with a slight exclamation at the sharp pain. "And now give me a piece of paper and pen and ink."

Then sitting down he wrote:

"My Dear Miss Hannay: Rujub, the juggler, and I will do what we can to rescue you. We are powerless to effect anything as long as you remain where you are. The bearer, Rujub's daughter, will give you the bottles, one containing lunar caustic, the other nitric acid. The mistress of the zenana, who wants to get rid of you, as she fears you might obtain influence over the Nana, has asked the girl to obtain from her father a philter which will make you odious to him. The large bottle is perfectly harmless, and you can drink its contents without fear. The caustic is for applying to your lips; it will be painful, but I am sure you will not mind that, and the injury will be only of a temporary nature. I cannot promise as much for the nitric acid; pray apply it very carefully, merely moistening the glass stopper and applying it with that. I should use it principally round the lips. It will burn and blister the skin. The Nana will be told that you have a fever, which is causing a terrible and disfiguring eruption. I should apply it also to the neck and hands. Pray be very careful with the stuff; for, besides the application being exceedingly painful, the scars may possibly remain permanently. Keep the two small bottles carefully hidden, in order to renew the application if absolutely necessary. At any rate, this will give us time, and, from what I hear, our troops are likely to be here in another ten days' time. You will be, I know, glad to hear that Wilson has also escaped.

"Yours,

"R. Bathurst."

A large bottle was next filled with elder flower water. The trap was brought around, and they drove back to Bithoor. Rabda was punctual to her appointment.

"I have seen her," she said, "and have given her the message. I could see that she understood it, but as there were other women round, she made no sign. I told the mistress of the zenana that you had given me some magic words that I was to whisper to her to prepare the way for the philter, so she let me in without difficulty, and I was allowed to go close up to her and repeat your message. I put my hands on her before I did so, and I think she felt that it was the touch of a friend. She hushed up when I spoke to her. The mistress, who was standing close by, thought that this was a sign of the power of the words I had spoken to her. I did not stay more than a minute. I was afraid she might try to speak to me in your tongue, and that would have been dangerous."

"There are the bottles,"' Bathurst said; "this large one is for her to take, the other two and this note are to be given to her separately. You had better tell the woman that the philter must be given by your own hands, and that you must then watch alone by her side for half an hour. Say that after you leave her she will soon go off to sleep; and must then be left absolutely alone till daybreak tomorrow, and it will then be found that the philter has acted. She must at once tell the Nana that the lady is in a high fever, and has been seized with some terrible disease that has altogether disfigured her, and that he can see for himself the state she is in."

Rabda's whisper had given new life and hope to Isobel Hannay. Previous to that her fate had seemed to her to be sealed, and she had only prayed for death; the long strain of the siege had told upon her; the scene in the boat seemed a species of horrible nightmare, culminating in a number of Sepoys leaping on board the boat as it touched the bank, and bayoneting her uncle and all on board except herself, Mrs. Hunter, and her daughter, who were seized and carried ashore. Then followed a night of dull despairing pain, while she and her companions crouched together, with two Sepoys standing on guard over them, while the others, after lighting fires, talked and laughed long into the night over the success of their attack.

At daybreak they had been placed upon a limber and driven into Cawnpore. Her spirit had risen as they were assailed by insults and imprecations by the roughs of the town, and she had borne up bravely till, upon their arrival at the entrance to what she supposed was the prison, she was roughly dragged from the limber, placed in a close carriage, and driven off. In her despair she had endeavored to open the door in order to throw herself under the wheels, but a soldier stood on each step and prevented her from doing so.

Outside of the town she soon saw that she was on the road to Bithoor, and the fate for which she was reserved flashed upon her. She remembered now the oily compliments of Nana Sahib, and the unpleasant thrill she had felt when his eyes were fixed upon her; and had she possessed a weapon of any kind she would have put an end to her life. But her pistol had been taken from her when she landed, and in helpless despair she crouched in a corner of the carriage until they reached Bithoor.

As soon as the carriage stopped a cloth was thrown over her head. She was lifted out and carried into the palace, through long passages and up stairs; then those who carried her set her on her feet and retired. Other hands took her and led her forward till the cloth was taken off her head, and she found herself surrounded, by women, who regarded her with glances of mixed curiosity and hostility. Then everything seemed to swim round, and she fainted.

When she recovered consciousness all strength seemed to have left her, and she lay in a sort of apathy for hours, taking listlessly the drink that was offered to her, but paying no attention to what was passing around, until there was a gentle pressure on her arm, the grasp tightening with a slight caressing motion that seemed to show sympathy; then came the English words softly whispered into her ear, while the hand again pressed her arm firmly, as if in warning.

It was with difficulty that she refrained from uttering an exclamation, and she felt the blood crimson her cheeks, but she mastered the impulse and lay perfectly quiet, glancing up into the face bent down close to hers—it was not familiar to her, and yet it seemed to her that she had seen it somewhere; another minute and it was gone.

But though to all appearances Isobel's attitude was unchanged, her mind was active now. Who could have sent her this message? Who could this native girl be who had spoken in English to her? Where had she seen the face?

Her thoughts traveled backwards, and she ran over in her mind all those with whom she had come in contact since her arrival in India; her servants and those of her acquaintances passed before her eyes. She had scarcely spoken to another native woman since she had landed. After thinking over all she had known in Cawnpore, she thought of Deennugghur. Whom had she met there?

Suddenly came the remembrance of the exhibition by the juggler, and she recalled the face and figure of his daughter, as, seated, upon the growing pole, she had gone up foot by foot in the light of the lamps and up into the darkness above. The mystery was solved; that was the face that had just leaned over her.

But how could she be interested in her fate? Then she remembered that this was the girl whom Bathurst had saved from the tiger. If they were interested in her, it must be through Bathurst. Could he too have survived the attack of the night before? She had thought of him, as of all of them, as dead, but possibly he might have escaped. Even during the long night's waiting, a captive to the Sepoys, the thought that he had instantly sprung from beside her and leaped overboard had been an added pang to all her misery. She had no after remembrance of him; perhaps he had swum to shore and got off in safety. In that case he must be lingering in Cawnpore, had learned what had become of her, and was trying to rescue her. It was to the juggler he would naturally have gone to obtain assistance. If so, he was risking his life now to save hers; and this was the man whom she despised as a coward.

But what could he do? At Bithoor, in the power of this treacherous Rajah, secure in the zenana, where no man save its master ever penetrated, how could he possibly help her? Yet the thought that he was trying to do so was a happy one, and the tears that flowed between her closed lids were not painful ones. She blamed herself now for having felt for a moment hurt at Bathurst's desertion of her. To have remained in the boat would have been certain death, while he could have been of no assistance to her or anyone else. That he should escape, then, if he could, now seemed to her a perfectly natural action; she hoped that some of the others had done the same, and that Bathurst was not working alone.

It did not occur to her that there could be any possibility of the scheme for her rescue succeeding; as to that she felt no more hopeful than before, but it seemed to take away the sense of utter loneliness that she before felt that someone should be interesting himself in her fate. Perhaps there would be more than a mere verbal message next time; how long would it be before she heard again? How long a respite had she before that wretch came to see her? Doubtless he had heard that she was ill. She would remain so. She would starve herself. Her weakness seemed to her her best protection.

As she lay apparently helpless upon the couch she watched the women move about the room. The girl who had spoken to her was not among them. The women were not unkind; they brought her cooling drinks, and tried to tempt her to eat something; but she shook her head as if utterly unable to do so, and after a time feigned to be asleep.

Darkness came on gradually; some lamps were lighted in the room. Not for a moment had she been left alone since she was brought in—never less than two females remaining with her.

Presently the woman who was evidently the chief of the establishment came in accompanied by a girl, whom Isobel recognized at once as the juggler's daughter. The latter brought with her a tray, on which were some cakes and a silver goblet. These she set down on an oak table by the couch. The girl then handed her the goblet, which, keeping up the appearance of extreme feebleness, she took languidly. She placed it to her lips, but at once took it away. It was not cool and refreshing like those she had tasted before, it had but little flavor, but had a faint odor, which struck her as not unfamiliar. It was a drug of some sort they wished her to drink.

She looked up in the girl's face. Rabda made a reassuring gesture, and said in a low whisper, as she bent forward, "Bathurst Sahib."

This was sufficient; whatever it was it would do her no harm, and she raised the cup to her lips and emptied it. Then the elder woman said something to the other two, and they all left the room together, leaving her alone with Rabda.

The latter went to the door quietly and drew the hangings across it, then she returned to the couch, and from the folds of her dress produced two vials and a tiny note. Then, noiselessly, she placed a lamp on the table, and withdrew to a short distance while Isobel opened and read the note.

Twice she read it through, and then, laying it down, burst into tears of relief. Rabda came and knelt down beside the couch, and, taking one of her hands, pressed it to her lips. Isobel threw her arms round the girl's neck, drew her close to her, and kissed her warmly.—Rabda then drew a piece of paper and a pencil from her dress and handed them to her. She wrote:

"Thanks a thousand times, dear friend; I will follow your instructions. Please send me if you can some quick and deadly poison, that I may take in the last extremity. Do not fear that I will flinch from applying the things you have sent me. I would not hesitate to swallow them were there no other hope of escape. I rejoice so much to know that you have escaped from that terrible attack last night. Did Wilson alone get away? Do you know they murdered my uncle and all the others in the boat, except Mrs. Hunter and Mary? Pray do not run any risks to try and rescue me. I think that I am safe now, and will make myself so hideous that if the wretch once sees me he will never want to see me again. As to death, I have no fear of it. If we do not meet again, God bless you.

"Yours most gratefully,

"Isobel."

Rabda concealed the note in her garment, and then motioned to Isobel that she should close her eyes and pretend to be asleep. Then she gently drew back the curtains and seated herself at a distance from the couch.

Half an hour later the mistress of the zenana came in. Rabda rose and put her finger to her lips and left the room, accompanied by the woman.

"She is asleep," she said; "do not be afraid, the potion will do its work. Leave her alone all night. When she wakes in the morning she will be wild with fever, and you need have no fear that the Rajah will seek to make her the queen of his zenana."



CHAPTER XX.

Prepared as the mistress of the zenana was to find a great change in the captive's appearance, she was startled when, soon after daybreak, she went in to see her. The lower part of her face was greatly swollen, her lips were covered with white blotches. There were great red scars round the mouth and on her forehead, and the skin seemed to have been completely eaten away. There were even larger and deeper marks on her neck and shoulders, which were partly uncovered, as if by her restless tossing. Her hands and arms were similarly marked. She took no notice of her entrance, but talked to herself as she tossed restlessly on the couch.

There was but little acting in this, for Isobel was suffering an agony of pain. She had used the acid much more freely than she had been instructed to do, determined that the disfigurement should be complete. All night she had been in a state of high fever, and had for a time been almost delirious. She was but slightly more easy now, and had difficulty in preventing herself from crying out from the torture she was suffering.

There was no tinge of pity in the face of the woman who looked at her, but a smile of satisfaction at the manner in which the potion had done its work.

"The Nana can see her now," she said to herself; "there will be no change in the arrangements here."

She at once sent out word that as soon as the Rajah was up he was to be told that she begged him to come at once.

An hour later he came to the door of the zenana.

"What is it, Poomba?" he asked; "nothing the matter with Miss Hannay, I hope?"

"I grieve to say, your highness, that she has been seized with some terrible disease. I know not what it is, for never did I see a woman so smitten. It must be an illness contracted from confinement and bad air during the siege, some illness that the Europeans have, for never did I see aught like it. She is in a high state of fever, and her face is in a terrible state. It must be a sort of plague."

"You have been poisoning her," the Nana said roughly; "if so, beware, for your life shall be the forfeit. I will see her for myself."

"She has had no poison since she came here, though I know not but what she may have had poison about her, and may have taken it after she was captured."

"Take me to her," the Rajah said. "I will see for myself."

"It may be a contagious disease, your highness. It were best that you should not go near her."

The Rajah made an impatient gesture, and the woman, without another word, led him into the room where Isobel was lying. The Nana was prepared for some disfigurement of the face he had so admired, but he shrank back from the reality.

"It is horrible," he said, in a low voice. "What have you been doing to her?" he asked, turning furiously to the woman.

"I have done nothing, your highness. All day yesterday she lay in a torpor, as I told you in the evening when you inquired about her, and I thought then she was going to be ill. I have watched her all night. She has been restless and disturbed, but I thought it better not to go nearer lest I should wake her, and it was not until this morning, when the day broke, that I perceived this terrible change. What shall we do with her? If the disease is contagious, everyone in the palace may catch it."

"Have a closed palanquin brought to the door, wrap her up, and have her carried down to the Subada Ke Kothee. Let her give it to the women there. Burn all the things in this room, and everything that has been worn by those who have entered it. I will inquire into this matter later on, and should I find that there has been any foul play, those concerned in it shall wish they had never been born."

As soon as he had left the woman called Rabda in.

"All has gone well," she said; "your father's philter is powerful indeed. Tell him whenever he needs any service I can render he has but to ask it. Look at her; did you ever see one so disfigured? The Rajah has seen her, and is filled with loathing. She is to be sent to the Subada Ke Kothee. Are you sure that the malady is not contagious? I have persuaded the Rajah that it is; that is why he is sending her away."

"I am sure it is not," Rabda said; "it is the result of the drugs. It is terrible to see her; give me some cooling ointment."

"What does it matter about her now that she is harmless?" Poomba said scornfully. Being, however, desirous of pleasing Rabda, she went away and brought a pot of ointment, which the girl applied to the sores, the tears falling down her cheeks as she did so.

The salve at once afforded relief from the burning pain, and Isobel gratefully took a drink prepared from fresh limes.

She had only removed her gown when she had lain down, having done this in order that it should not be burned by the acid, and that her neck and shoulders might be seen, and the belief induced that this strange eruption was all over her. Rabda made signs for her to put it on again, and pointing in the direction of Cawnpore, repeated the word several times, and Isobel felt with a thrill of intense thankfulness that the stratagem had succeeded, and that she was to be sent away at once, probably to the place where the other prisoners were confined. Presently the woman returned.

"Rabda, you had best go with her. It were well that you should leave for the present. The Rajah is suspicious; he may come back again and ask questions; and as he knows you by sight, and as you told me your father was in disfavor with him at present, he might suspect that you were in some way concerned in the matter."

"I will go," Rabda said. "I am sorry she has suffered so much. I did not think the potion would have been so strong. Give me a netful of fresh limes and some cooling lotion, that I may leave with her there."

In a few minutes a woman came up to say that the palanquin was in readiness at the gate of the zenana garden. A large cushion was taken off a divan, and Isobel was laid upon it and covered with a light shawl. Six of the female attendants lifted it and carried it downstairs, accompanied by Rabda and the mistress off the zenana, both closely veiled. Outside the gate was a large palanquin, with its bearers and four soldiers and an officer. The cushion was lifted and placed in the palanquin, and Rabda also took her place there.

"Then you will not return today," the woman said to her, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the officers "You will remain with her for a time, and afterwards go to see your friends in the town. I will send for you when I hear that you wish to return."

The curtains of the palanquin were drawn down; the bearers lifted it and started at once for Cawnpore.

On arrival at the large building known as the Subada Ke Kothee the gates were opened at once at the order of the Nana's officer, and the palanquin was carried across the courtyard to the door of the building which was used as a prison for the white women and children. It was taken into the great arched room and set down. Rabda stepped out, and the bearers lifted out the cushion upon which Isobel lay.

"You will not be wanted any more," Rabda said, in a tone of authority. "You can return to Bithoor at once!"

As the door closed behind them several of the ladies came round to see this fresh arrival. Rabda looked round till her eye fell upon Mrs. Hunter, who was occupied in trying to hush a fractious child. She put her hand on her arm and motioned to her to come along. Surprised at the summons, Mrs. Hunter followed her. When they reached the cushion Rabda lifted the shawl from Isobel's face. For a moment Mrs. Hunter failed to recognize her, but as Isobel opened her eyes and held out her hand she knew her, and with a cry of pity she dropped on her knees beside her.

"My poor child, what have these fiends been doing to you?"

"They have been doing nothing, Mrs. Hunter," she whispered. "I am not so bad as I seem, though I have suffered a great deal of pain. I was carried away to Bithoor, to Nana Sahib's zenana, and I have burnt my face with caustic and acid; they think I have some terrible disease, and have sent me here."

"Bravely done, girl! Bravely and nobly done! We had best keep the secret to ourselves; there are constantly men looking through the bars of the window, and some of them may understand English."

Then she looked up and said, "It is Miss Hannay, she was captured with us in the boats; please help me to carry her over to the wall there, and my daughter and I will nurse her; it looks as if she had been terribly burnt, somehow."

Many of the ladies had met Isobel in the happy days before the troubles began, and great was the pity expressed at her appearance. She was carried to the side of the wall, where Mary and Mrs. Hunter at once made her as comfortable as they could. Rabda, who had now thrown back her veil, produced from under her dress the net containing some fifty small limes, and handed to Mrs. Hunter the pot of ointment and the lotion.

"She has saved me," Isobel said; "it is the daughter of the juggler who performed at your house, Mrs. Hunter; do thank her for me, and tell her how grateful I am."

Mrs. Hunter took Rabda's hand, and in her own language thanked her for her kindness to Isobel.

"I have done as I was told," Rabda said simply; "the Sahib Bathurst saved my life, and when he said the lady must be rescued from the hands of the Nana, it was only right that I should do so, even at the risk of my life."

"So Bathurst has escaped," Mrs. Hunter said, turning to Isobel. "I am glad of that, dear; I was afraid that all were gone."

"Yes, I had a note from him; it is by his means that I got away from Bithoor. He sent me the caustic and acid to burn my face. He told me Mr. Wilson had also escaped, and perhaps some others may have got away, though he did not seem to know it."

"But surely there could be no occasion to burn yourself as badly as you have done, Isobel."

"I am afraid I did put on too much acid," she said. "I was so afraid of not burning it enough; but it does not matter, it does not pain me nearly so much since I put on that ointment; it will soon get well."

Mrs. Hunter shook her head regretfully.

"I am afraid it will leave marks for a long time."

"That is of no consequence at all, Mrs. Hunter; I am so thankful at being here with you, that I should mind very little if I knew that it was always to be as bad as it is now. What does it matter?"

"It does not matter at all at present, my dear; but if you ever get out of this horrible place, some day you may think differently about it."

"I must go now," Rabda said. "Has the lady any message to send to the sahib?" and she again handed a paper and pencil to Isobel.

The girl took them, hesitating a little before writing:

"Thank God you have saved me. Some day, perhaps, I may be able to tell you how grateful I am; but, if not, you will know that if the worst happens to us, I shall die blessing you for what you have done for me. Pray do not linger longer in Cawnpore. You may be discovered, and if I am spared, it would embitter my life always to know that it had cost you yours. God bless you always.

"Yours gratefully,

"Isobel."

She folded up the paper and gave it to Rabda, who took her hand and kissed it; and then, drawing her veil again over her face, went to the door, which stood open for the moment.

Some men were bringing in a large cauldron of rice. The sentries offered no opposition to her passing out, as the officer with the palanquin had told them that a lady of the Rajah's zenana would leave shortly. A similar message had been given to the officer at the main gate, who, however, requested to see her hand and arm to satisfy him that all was right. This was sufficient to assure him that it was not a white woman passing out in disguise, and Rabda at once proceeded to her father's house.

As she expected, he and Bathurst were away, for she had arranged to meet them at eight o'clock in the garden. They did not return until eleven, having waited two hours for her, and returning home in much anxiety at her non-appearance.

"What has happened? Why did you not meet us, Rabda?" her father exclaimed, as he entered.

Rabda rapidly repeated the incidents that had happened since she had parted from him the evening before, and handed to Bathurst the two notes she had received from Isobel.

"Then she is in safety with the others!" he exclaimed in delight. "Thank God for that, and thank you, Rabda, indeed, for what you have done."

"My life is my lord's," the girl said quietly. "What I have done is nothing."

"If we had but known, Rujub, that she would be moved at once, we might have rescued her on the way."

Rujub shook his head.

"There are far too many people along the road, sahib; it could not have been done. But, of course, there was no knowing that she would be sent off directly after the Nana had seen her."

"Is she much disfigured, Rabda?" Bathurst asked.

"Dreadfully;" the girl said sorrowfully. "The acid must have been too strong."

"It was strong, no doubt," Bathurst said; "but if she had put it on as I instructed her it could only have burnt the surface of the skin."

"It has burnt her dreadfully, sahib; even I should hardly have known her. She must be brave indeed to have done it. She must have suffered dreadfully; but I obtained some ointment for her, and she was better when I left her. She is with the wife of the Sahib Hunter."

"Now, Rabda, see if the meal is prepared," Rujub said. "We are both hungry, and you can have eaten nothing this morning."

He then left the room, leaving Bathurst to read the letters which he still held in his hand, feeling that they were too precious to be looked at until he was alone.

It was some time before Rabda brought in his breakfast, and, glancing at him, she saw how deeply he had been moved by the letters. She went up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"We will get her for you, sahib. We have been successful so far, be assured that we shall succeed again. What we have done is more difficult than what we have to do. It is easier to get twenty prisoners from a jail than one from a rajah's zenana."

"That is true enough, Rabda. At the moment I was not thinking of that, but of other things."

He longed for sympathy, but the girl would not have understood him had he told her his feelings. To her he was a hero, and it would have seemed to her folly had he said that he felt himself altogether unworthy of Isobel Hannay. After he had finished his breakfast Rujub again came in.

"What does the sahib intend to do now?" he asked.

"As far as I can see there is nothing to do at present, Rujub," he said. "When the white troops come up she will be delivered."

"Then will my lord go down to Allahabad?"

"Certainly not. There is no saying what may happen."

"That is so," Rujub agreed. "The white women are safe at present, but if, as the Sahib thinks, the white soldiers should beat the troops of the Nana, who can say what will happen? The people will be wild with rage, the Nana will be furious—he is a tiger who, having once laid his paw on a victim, will not allow it to be torn from him."

"He can never allow them to be injured," Bathurst said. "It is possible that as our troops advance he may carry them all off as hostages, and by the threat of killing them may make terms for his own life, but he would never venture to carry out his threats. You think he would?" he asked.

Rujub remained silent for a minute.

"I think so, sahib; the Nana is an ambitious man; he has wealth and everything most men would desire to make life happy, but he wanted more: he thought that when the British Raj was destroyed he would rule over the territories of the Peishwa, and be one of the greatest lords of the land. He has staked everything on that; if he loses, he has lost all. He knows that after the breach of his oath and the massacre here, there is no pardon for him. He is a tiger—and a wounded tiger is most dangerous. If he is, as you believe he will be, defeated, I believe his one thought will be of revenge. Every day brings news of fresh risings. Scindia's army will join us; Holkar's will probably follow. All Oude is rising in arms. A large army is gathering at Delhi. Even if the Nana is defeated here all will not be lost. He has twenty thousand men; there are well nigh two hundred thousand in arms round Lucknow alone. My belief is that if beaten his first thought will be to take revenge at once on the Feringhees, and to make his name terrible, and that he will then go off with his army to Lucknow or Delhi, where he would be received as one who has dared more than all others to defy the whites, who has no hope of pardon, and can, therefore, be relied upon above all others to fight to the last."

"It may be so, Rujub, though I can scarce believe that there exists a monster who would give orders for the murder of hundreds of women and children in cold blood; but, at any rate, I will remain and watch. We will decide upon what will be the best plan to rescue her from the prison, if we hear that evil is intended; but, if not, I can remain patiently until our troops arrive. I know the Subada Ke Kothee; it is, if I remember right, a large quadrangle with no windows on the outside."

"That is so, sahib; it is a strong place, and difficult indeed to get into or out of. There is only the main gate, which is guarded at night by two sentries outside and there is doubtless a strong guard within."

"I would learn whether the same regiment always furnishes the guard; if so, it might be possible to bribe them."

"I am afraid it would be too dangerous to try. There are scores of men in Cawnpore who would cut a throat for a rupee, but when it comes to breaking open a prison to carry off one of these white women whom they hate it would be too dangerous to try."

"Could you not do something with your art, Rujub?"

"If there were only the outside sentries it would be easy enough, sahib. I could send them to sleep with a wave of my hand, but I could not affect the men inside whom I do not know even by sight. Besides, in addition to the soldiers who guard the gate, there will be the men who have been told off to look after the prisoners. It will require a great deal of thinking over, sahib, but I believe we shall manage it. I shall go tomorrow to Bithoor and show myself boldly to the Nana. He knows that I have done good service to him, and his anger will have cooled down by this time, and he will listen to what I have to say. It will be useful to us for me to be able to go in and out of the palace at will, and so learn the first news from those about him. It is most important that we should know if he has evil intentions towards the captives, so that we may have time to carry out our plans."

"Very well, Rujub. You do not expect me to remain indoors, I hope, for I should wear myself out if I were obliged to wait here doing nothing."

"No, sahib; it will be perfectly safe for you to go about just as you are, and I can get you any other disguise you like. You will gather what is said in the town, can listen to the Sepoys, and examine the Subada Ke Kothee. If you like I will go there with you now. My daughter shall come with us; she may be useful, and will be glad to be doing something."

They went out from the city towards the prison house, which stood in an open space round which were several other buildings, some of them surrounded with gardens and walls.

The Subada Ke Kothee was a large building, forming three sides of a square, a strong high wall forming the fourth side. It was low, with a flat roof. There were no windows or openings in the outside wall, the chambers all facing the courtyard. Two sentries were at the gate. They were in the red Sepoy uniform, and Bathurst saw at once how much the bonds of discipline had been relaxed. Both had leaned their muskets against the wall; one was squatted on the ground beside his firearm, and the other was talking with two or three natives of his acquaintance. The gates were closed.

As they watched, a native officer came up. He stood for a minute talking with the soldiers. By his gesticulations it could be seen he was exceedingly angry, and the men took their muskets and began to walk up and down. Then the officer knocked at the gate. Instead of its being opened, a man appeared at a loophole in the gate tower, and the officer handed to him a paper. A minute later the gate was opened sufficiently for him to pass in, and was then closed behind him.

"They are evidently pretty strict," Bathurst said. "I don't think, Rujub, there is much chance of our doing anything there."

Rujub shook his head. "No, sahib, it is clear they have strict orders about opening and shutting the gate."

"It would not be very difficult to scale the wall of the house," Bathurst said, "with a rope and a hook at its end; but that is only the first step. The real difficulty lies in getting the prison room open in the first place—for no doubt they are locked up at night—and in the second getting her out of it, and the building."

"You could lower her down from the top of the wall, sahib."

"Yes, if one could get her out of the room they are confined in without making the slightest stir, but it is almost too much to hope that one could be able to do that. The men in charge of them are likely to keep a close watch, for they know that their heads would pay for any captive they allowed to escape."

"I don't think they will watch much, sahib; they will not believe that any of the women, broken down as they must be by trouble, would attempt such a thing, for even if they got out of the prison itself and then made their escape from the building, they would be caught before they could go far."

"Where does the prison house lie, Rabda?" Bathurst asked.

"It is on the left hand side as you enter the gate; it is the farthest door. Along that side most of the buildings—which have been used for storehouses, I should say, or perhaps for the guards when the place was a palace—have two floors, one above the other. But this is a large vaulted room extending from the ground to the roof; it has windows with iron gratings; the door is very strong and heavy."

"And now, sahib, we can do nothing more," Rujub said. "I will return home with Rabda, and then go over to Bithoor."

"Very well, Rujub, I will stay here, and hear what people are talking about."

There were indeed a considerable number of people near the building: the fact that the white prisoners were within seemed to exercise a fascination, and even women brought their children and sat on the banks which marked where gardens had once been, and talked of the white captives. Bathurst strolled about among the groups of Sepoys and townspeople. The former talked in loud tones of the little force that had already started from Allahabad, and boasted how easily they would eat up the Feringhees. It seemed, however, to Bathurst that a good deal of this confidence was assumed, and that among some, at least, there was an undercurrent of doubt and uneasiness, though they talked as loudly and boldly as their companions.

The townspeople were of two classes: there were the budmashes or roughs of the place, who uttered brutal and ferocious jokes as to the probable fate of the white women. There were others who kept in groups apart and talked in low voices. These were the traders, to whom the events that had taken place foreboded ruin. Already most of the shops had been sacked, and many of the principal inhabitants murdered by the mob. Those who had so far escaped, thanks in some instances to the protection afforded them by Sepoy officers, saw that their trade was ruined, their best customers killed, and themselves virtually at the mercy of the mob, who might again break out upon the occasion of any excitement. These were silent when Bathurst approached them. His attire, and the arms so ostentatiously displayed in his sash, marked him as one of the dangerous class, perhaps a prisoner from the jail whose doors had been thrown open on the first night of the Sepoy rising.

For hours Bathurst remained in the neighborhood of the prison. The sun set, and the night came on. Then a small party of soldiers came up and relieved the sentries. This time the number of the sentries at the gate was doubled, and three men were posted, one on each of the other sides of the building. After seeing this done he returned to the house. After he had finished his evening meal Rujub and Rabda came into the room.

"Now, sahib," the former said, "I think that we can tell you how the lady is. Rabda has seen her, spoken to her, and touched her; there is sympathy between them."

He seated Rabda in a chair, placed his hand on her forehead, and then drew the tips of his fingers several times slowly down her face. Her eyes closed. He took up her hand, and let it fall again. It was limp and impassive. Then he said authoritatively, "Go to the prison." He paused a moment.

"Are you there?"

"I am there," she said.

"Are you in the room where the ladies are?"

"I am there," she repeated.

"Do you see the lady Hannay?"

"I see her."

"How is she?"

"She is lying quiet. The other young lady is sitting beside her. The lower part of her face is bandaged up, but I can see that she is not suffering as she was this morning. She looks quiet and happy."

"Try and speak to her. Say, 'Keep up your courage, we are doing what we can.' Speak, I order you."

"I have spoken."

"Did she hear you?"

"Yes. She has raised herself on her arm; she is looking round; she has asked the other young lady if she heard anything. The other shakes her head. She heard my words, but does not understand them."

Rujub looked at Bathurst, who mechanically repeated the message in English.

"Speak to her again. Tell her these words," and Rujub repeated the message in English.

"Does she hear you?"

"She hears me. She has clasped her hands, and is looking round bewildered."

"That will do. Now go outside into the yard; what do you see there?"

"I see eight men sitting round a fire. One gets up and walks to one of the grated windows, and looks in at the prisoners."

"Is the door locked?"

"It is locked."

"Where is the key?"

She was silent for some time.

"Where is the key?" he repeated.

"In the lock," she said.

"How many soldiers are there in the guardroom by the gate?"

"There are no soldiers there. There are an officer and four men outside, but none inside."

"That will do," and he passed his hand lightly across her forehead.

"Is it all true?" Bathurst asked, as the juggler turned to him.

"Assuredly it is true, sahib. Had I had my daughter with me at Deennugghur, I could have sent you a message as easily; as it was, I had to trust only to the power of my mind upon yours. The information is of use, sahib."

"It is indeed. It is a great thing to know that the key is left in the lock, and also that at night there are the prison keepers only inside the building."

"Does she know what she has been doing?" he asked, as Rabda languidly rose from her chair.

"No, sahib, she knows nothing after she has recovered from these trances."

"I will watch tomorrow night," Bathurst said, "and see at what hour the sentries are relieved. It is evident that the Sepoys are not trusted to enter the prison, which is left entirely to the warders, the outside posts being furnished by some regiment in the lines. It is important to know the exact hour at which the changes are made, and perhaps you could find out tomorrow, Rujub, who these warders are; whether they are permanently on duty, or are relieved once a day."

"I will do that, sahib; if they are changed we may be able to get at some of them."

"I have no money," Bathurst said; "but—"

"I have money, sahib, and if they can be bribed, will do it; our caste is a rich one. We sometimes receive large presents, and we are everywhere made welcome. We have little need of money. I am wealthy, and practice my art more because I love it than for gain. There are few in the land that know the secrets that I do. Men die without having sons to pass down their knowledge; thus it is the number of those who possess the secrets of the ancient grows smaller every day. There are hundreds of jugglers, but very few who know, as I do, the secrets of nature, and can control the spirits of the air. Did I need greater wealth than I have, Rabda could discover for me all the hidden treasures of India; and I could obtain them, guarded though they may be by djins and evil spirits."

"Have you a son to come after you, Rujub?"

"Yes; he is traveling in Persia, to confer with one or two of the great ones there who still possess the knowledge of the ancient magicians."

"By the way, Rujub, I have not asked you how you got on with the Nana."

"It was easy enough," the juggler said. "He had lost all interest in the affairs of Deennugghur, and greeted me at first as if I had just returned from a journey. Then he remembered and asked me suddenly why I had disobeyed his orders and given my voice for terms being granted to the Feringhees. I said that I had obeyed his orders; I understood that what he principally desired was to have the women here as prisoners, and that had the siege continued the Feringhees would have blown themselves into the air. Therefore the only plan was to make terms with them, which would, in fact, place them all in his power, as he would not be bound by the conditions granted by the Oude men. He was satisfied, and said no more about it, and I am restored to my position in his favor. Henceforth we shall not have to trust to the gossip of the bazaars, but I shall know what news is received and what is going to be done.

"Your people at Delhi have beaten back the Sepoys several times, and at Lucknow they resist stoutly. The Nana is very angry that the place has not been taken, but from what I hear the intrenchments there are much stronger than they were here, and even here they were not taken by the sword, but because the whites had no shelter from the guns, and could not go to the well without exposing themselves to the fire. At Lucknow they have some strong houses in the intrenchments, and no want of anything, so they can only be captured by fighting. Everyone says they cannot hold out many days longer, but that I do not know. It does not seem to me that there is any hope of rescue for them, for even if, as you think, the white troops should beat Nana Sahib's men, they never could force their way through the streets of Lucknow to the intrenchments there."

"We shall see, Rujub. Deennugghur was defended by a mere handful, and at Lucknow they have half a regiment of white soldiers. They may, for anything I know, have to yield to starvation, but I doubt whether the mutineers and Oude men, however numerous they may be, will carry the place by assault. Is there any news elsewhere?"

"None, sahib, save that the Feringhees are bringing down regiments from the Punjaub to aid those at Delhi."

"The tide is beginning to turn, Rujub; the mutineers have done their worst, and have failed to overthrow the English Raj. Now you will see that every day they will lose ground. Fresh troops will pour up the country, and step by step the mutiny will be crushed out; it is a question of time only. If you could call up a picture on smoke of what will be happening a year hence, you would see the British triumphant everywhere."

"I cannot do that, sahib; I do not know what would appear on the smoke, and were I to try, misfortune would surely come upon me. When a picture of the past is shown on the smoke, it is not a past I know of, but which one of those present knows. I cannot always say which among them may know it; it is always a scene that has made a strong impression on the mind, but more than that I do not know. As to those of the future, I know even less; it is the work of the power of the air, whose name I whisper to myself when I pour out the incense, and to whom I pray. It is seldom that I show these pictures; he gets angry if called upon too often. I never do it unless I feel that he is propitious."

"It is beyond me altogether, Rujub; I can understand your power of sending messages, and of your daughter seeing at a distance. I have heard of such things at home; they are called mesmerism and clairvoyance. It is an obscure art; but that some men do possess the power of influencing others at a distance seems to be undoubted, still it is certainly never carried to such perfection as I see it in your case."

"It could not be," Rujub said; "white men eat too much, and it needs long fasting and mortification to fit a man to become a mystic; the spirit gains power as the body weakens. The Feringhees can make arms that shoot long distances, and carriages that travel faster than the fastest horse, and great ships and machines. They can do many great and useful things, but they cannot do the things that have been done for thousands of years in the East. They are tied too fast to the earth to have aught to do with the spirits that dwell in the air. A learned Brahmin, who had studied your holy books, told me that your Great Teacher said that if you had faith you could move mountains. We could well nigh do that if it were of use to mankind; but were we to do so merely to show our power, we should be struck dead. It is wrong even to tell you these things; I must say no more."

Four days passed. Rujub went every day for some hours to Bithoor, and told Bathurst that he heard that the British force, of about fourteen hundred whites and five hundred Sikhs, was pushing forward rapidly, making double marches each day.

"The first fight will be near Futtehpore," he said; "there are fifteen hundred Sepoys, as many Oude tribesmen, and five hundred cavalry with twelve guns, and they are in a very strong position, which the British can only reach by passing along the road through a swamp. It is a position that the officers say a thousand men could hold against ten thousand."

"You will see that it will not delay our troops an hour," Bathurst said. "Do they imagine they are going to beat us, when the numbers are but two to one in their favor? If so, they will soon learn that they are mistaken."

The next afternoon, when Rujub returned, he said, "You were right, sahib; your people took Futtehpore after only half an hour's fighting. The accounts say that the Feringhees came on like demons, and that they did not seem to mind our firing in the slightest. The Nana is furious, but they still feel confident that they will succeed in stopping the Feringhees at Dong. They lost their twelve guns at Futtehpore, but they have two heavy ones at the Pandoo Bridge, which sweep the straight road leading to it for a mile; and the bridge has been mined, and will be blown up if the Feringhees reach it. But, nevertheless, the Nana swears that he will be revenged on the captives. If you are to rescue the lady it must be done tonight, for tomorrow it may be too late."

"You surely do not think he will give orders for the murder of the women and children?"

"I fear he will do so," Rujub answered gloomily.

Each day Bathurst had learned in the same manner as before what was doing in the prison. Isobel was no longer being nursed; she was assisting to nurse Mary Hunter, who had, the day after Isobel was transferred to the prison, been attacked by fever, and was the next day delirious. Rabda's report of the next two days left little doubt in Bathurst's mind that she was rapidly sinking. All the prisoners suffered greatly from the close confinement; many had died, and the girl's description of the scenes she witnessed was often interrupted by her sobs and tears.



CHAPTER XXI.

While Bathurst was busying himself completing his preparations for the attempt, Rabda came in with her father.

"My lord," she said, "I tremble at the thought of your venturing your life. My life is of no importance, and it belongs to you. What I would propose is this. My father will go to Bithoor, and will obtain an order from one of the Nana's officers for a lady of the zenana to visit the prisoners. I will go in veiled, as I was on the day I went there. I will change garments with the lady, and she can come out veiled, and meet you outside."

"I would not dream of such a thing, Rabda. You would be killed to a certainty when they discovered the trick. Even if I would consent to the sacrifice, Miss Hannay would not do so. I am deeply grateful to you for proposing it, but it is impossible. You will see that, with the aid of your father, I shall succeed."

"I told her that would be your answer, sahib," Rujub said, "but she insisted on making the offer."

It was arranged that they were to start at nine o'clock, as it was safer to make the attempt before everything became quiet. Before starting, Rabda was again placed in a trance. In reply to her father's questions she said that Mary Hunter was dead, and that Isobel was lying down. She was told to tell her that in an hour she was to be at the window next to the door.

Rujub had found that the men inside the prison were those who had been employed as warders at the jail before the troubles began, and he had procured for Bathurst a dress similar to that which they wore, which was a sort of uniform. He had offered, if the attempt was successful, to conceal Isobel in his house until the troops reached Cawnpore, but Bathurst preferred to take her down the country, upon the ground that every house might be searched, and that possibly before the British entered the town there might be a general sack of the place by the mob, and even if this did not take place there might be desperate house to house fighting when the troops arrived. Rujub acknowledged the danger, and said that he and his daughter would accompany them on their way down country, as it would greatly lessen their risk if two of the party were really natives. Bathurst gratefully accepted the offer, as it would make the journey far more tolerable for Isobel if she had Rabda with her.

She was to wait a short distance from the prison while Bathurst made the attempt, and was left in a clump of bushes two or three hundred yards away from the prison. Rujub accompanied Bathurst. They went along quietly until within fifty yards of the sentry in the rear of the house, and then stopped. The man was walking briskly up and down. Rujub stretched out his arms in front of him with the fingers extended. Bathurst, who had taken his place behind him, saw his muscles stiffen, while there was a tremulous motion of his fingers. In a minute or two the sentry's walk became slower. In a little time it ceased altogether, and he leaned against the wall as if drowsy; then he slid down in a sitting position, his musket falling to the ground.

"You can come along now," Rujub said; "he is fast asleep, and there is no fear of his waking. He will sleep till I bid him wake."

They at once moved forward to the wall of the house. Bathurst threw up a knotted rope, to which was attached a large hook, carefully wrapped in flannel to prevent noise. After three or four attempts it caught on the parapet. Bathurst at once climbed up. As soon as he had gained the flat terrace, Rujub followed him; they then pulled up the rope, to the lower end of which a rope ladder was attached, and fastened this securely; then they went to the inner side of the terrace and looked down onto the courtyard. Two men were standing at one of the grated windows of the prison room, apparently looking in; six others were seated round a fire in the center of the court.

Bathurst was about to turn away when Rujub touched him and pointed to the two men at the window, and then stretched out his arms towards them. Presently they turned and left the window, and in a leisurely way walked across the court and entered a room where a light was burning close to the grate. For two or three minutes Rujub stood in the same position, then his arms dropped.

"They have gone into the guard room to sleep," he said; "there are two less to trouble you."

Then he turned towards the group of men by the fire and fixed his gaze upon them. In a short time one of them wrapped himself in his cloth and lay down. In five minutes two others had followed his example. Another ten minutes passed, and then Rujub turned to Bathurst and said, "I cannot affect the other three; we cannot influence everyone."

"That will do, Rujub, it is my turn now."

After a short search they found stairs leading down from the terrace, and after passing through some empty rooms reached a door opening into the courtyard.

"Do you stay here, Rujub," Bathurst said. "They will take me for one of themselves. If I succeed without noise, I shall come this way; if not, we will go out through the gate, and you had best leave by the way we came."

The door was standing open, and Bathurst, grasping a heavy tulwar, went out into the courtyard. Keeping close to the house, he sauntered along until he reached the grated windows of the prison room. Three lamps were burning within, to enable the guard outside to watch the prisoners. He passed the two first windows; at the third a figure was standing. She shrank back as Bathurst stopped before it.

"It is I, Miss Hannay—Bathurst. Danger threatens you, and you must escape at once. Rabda is waiting for you outside. Please go to the door and stand there until I open it. I have no doubt that I shall succeed, but if anything should go wrong, go and lie down again at once."

Without waiting for an answer, he moved towards the fire.

"Is that you, Ahmed?" one of the warders said. "We all seem sleepy this evening, there is something in the air; I felt half inclined to go off myself."

"It is very hot tonight," Bathurst replied.

There was something in his voice unfamiliar to the man, and with an exclamation, "Who is it?" he sprang to his feet. But Bathurst was now but three paces away, and with a bound was upon him, bringing the tulwar down with such force upon his head that the man fell lifeless without a groan. The other two leaped up with shouts of "Treachery!" but Bathurst was upon them, and, aided by the surprise, cut both down after a sharp fight of half a minute. Then he ran to the prison door, turned the key in the lock, and opened it.

"Come!" he exclaimed, "there is no time to be lost, the guards outside have taken the alarm," for, by this time, there was a furious knocking at the gate. "Wrap yourself up in this native robe."

"But the others, Mr. Bathurst, can't you save them too?"

"Impossible," he said. "Even if they got out, they would be overtaken and killed at once. Come!" And taking her hand, he led her to the gate.

"Stand back here so that the gate will open on you," he said. Then he undid the bar, shouting, "Treachery; the prisoners are escaping!"

As he undid the last bolt the gate opened and the soldiers rushed in, firing at random as they did so. Bathurst had stepped behind the gate as it opened, and as the soldiers ran up the yard he took Isobel's hand, and, passing through the gate, ran with her round the building until he reached the spot where Rabda was awaiting them. Half a minute later her father joined them.

"Let us go at once, there is no time for talking," he said. "We must be cautious, the firing will wake the whole quarter;" for by this time loud shouts were being raised, and men, hearing the muskets fired, were running towards the gate. Taking advantage of the shelter of the shrubbery as much as they could, they hurried on until they issued into the open country.

"Do you feel strong enough to walk far?" Bathurst asked, speaking for the first time since they left the gate.

"I think so," she said; "I am not sure whether I am awake or dreaming."

"You are awake, Miss Hannay; you are safe out of that terrible prison."

"I am not sure," the girl said, speaking slowly; "I have been strange since I went there. I have seemed to hear voices speaking to me, though no one was there, and no one else heard them; and I am not sure whether all this is not fancy now."

"It is reality, Miss Hannay. Take my hand and you will see that it is solid. The voices you heard were similar to those I heard at Deennugghur; they were messages I sent you by means of Rujub and his daughter."

"I did think of what you told me and about the juggler, but it seemed so strange. I thought that my brain was turning with trouble; it was bad enough at Deennugghur, but nothing to what it has been since that dreadful day at Bithoor. There did not seem much hope at Deennugghur. But somehow we all kept up, and, desperate as it seemed, I don't think we ever quite despaired. You see, we all knew each other; besides, no one could give way while the men were fighting and working so hard for us; but at Cawnpore there seemed no hope. There was not one woman there but had lost husband or father. Most of them were indifferent to life, scarcely ever speaking, and seeming to move in a dream, while others with children sat holding them close to them as if they dreaded a separation at any moment. There were a few who were different, who moved about and nursed the children and sick, and tried to comfort the others, just as Mrs. Hunter did at Deennugghur. There was no crying and no lamenting. It would have been a relief if anyone had cried, it was the stillness that was so trying; when people talked to each other they did it in a whisper, as they do in a room where someone is lying dead.

"You know Mary Hunter died yesterday? Well, Mrs. Hunter quite put aside her own grief and tried to cheer others. I told her the last message I received, and asked her to go with me if it should be true. She said, 'No, Isobel; I don't know whether this message is a dream, or whether God has opened a way of escape for you—if so, may He be thanked; but you must go alone—one might escape where two could not. As for me, I shall wait here for whatever fate God may send me. My husband and my children have gone before me. I may do some good among these poor creatures, and here I shall stay. You are young and full of life, and have many happy days in store for you. My race is nearly run—even did I wish for life, I would not cumber you and your friends; there will be perils to encounter and fatigues to be undergone. Had not Mary left us I would have sent her with you, but God did not will it so. Go, therefore, to the window, dear, as you were told by this message you think you have received, but do not be disappointed if no one comes. If it turns out true, and there is a chance of escape, take it, dear, and may God be with you.' As I stood at the window, I could not go at once, as you told me, to the door; I had to stand there; I saw it all till you turned and ran to the door, and then I came to meet you."

"It was a pity you saw it," he said gently.

"Why? Do you think that, after what I have gone through, I was shocked at seeing you kill three of those wretches? Two months ago I suppose I should have thought it dreadful, but those two months have changed us altogether. Think of what we were then and what we are now. There remain only you, Mrs. Hunter, myself, and your letter said, Mr. Wilson. Is he the only one?"

"Yes, so far as we know."

"Only we four, and all the others gone—Uncle and Mary and Amy and the Doolans and the dear Doctor, all the children. Why, if the door had been open, and I had had a weapon, I would have rushed out to help you kill. I shudder at myself sometimes."

After a pause she went on. "Then none of those in the other boat came to shore, Mr. Bathurst, except Mr. Wilson?"

"I fear not. The other boat sank directly. Wilson told me it was sinking as he sprang over. You had better not talk any more, Miss Hannay, for you are out of breath now, and will need all your strength."

"Yes, but tell me why you have taken me away; you said there was great danger?"

"Our troops are coming up," he said, "and I had reason to fear that when the rebels are defeated the mob may break open the prison."

"They surely could not murder women and children who have done them no harm!"

"There is no saying what they might do, Miss Hannay, but that was the reason why I dared not leave you where you were. I will tell you more about it afterwards. Now, please take my arm, we must be miles away from here before morning. They will find out then that you have escaped, and will no doubt scour the country."

They had left the road and were passing through the fields. Isobel's strength failed rapidly, as soon as the excitement that had at first kept her up subsided. Rujub several times urged Bathurst to go faster, but the girl hung more and more heavily on his arm.

"I can't go any farther," she said at last; "it is so long since I walked, and I suppose I have got weak. I have tried very hard, but I can scarcely drag my feet along. You had better leave me; you have done all you could to save me. I thank you so much. Only please leave a pistol with me. I am not at all afraid of dying, but I will not fall into their hands again."

"We must carry her, Rujub," Bathurst said; "she is utterly exhausted and worn out, and no wonder. If we could make a sort of stretcher, it would be easy enough."

Rujub took the cloth from his shoulders, and laid it on the ground by the side of Isobel, who had now sunk down and was lying helpless.

"Lift her onto this, sahib, then we will take the four corners and carry her; it will be no weight."

Bathurst lifted Isobel, in spite of her feeble protest, and laid her on the cloth.

"I will take the two corners by her head," Bathurst said, "if you will each take one of the others."

"No, sahib, the weight is all at the head; you take one corner, and I will take the other. Rabda can take the two corners at the feet. We can change about when we like."

Isobel had lost greatly in weight since the siege of Deennugghur began, and she was but a light burden for her three bearers, who started with her at a speed considerably greater than that at which she had walked.

"Which way are you taking us, Rujub?" Bathurst asked presently; "I have lost my bearings altogether."

"I am keeping near the river, sahib. I know the country well. We cannot follow the road, for there the Rajah's troops and the Sepoys and the Oude men are gathered to oppose your people. They will fight tomorrow at Dong, as I told you, but the main body is not far from here. We must keep far away from them, and if your people take Dong we can then join them if we like. This road keeps near the river all the way, and we are not likely to meet Sepoys here, as it is by the other road the white troops are coming up."

After four hours' walking, Rujub said, "There is a large wood just ahead. We will go in there. We are far enough off Cawnpore to be safe from any parties they may send out to search. If your people take Dong tomorrow, they will have enough to think of in Cawnpore without troubling about an escaped prisoner. Besides," he added, "if the Rajah's orders are carried out, at daybreak they will not know that a prisoner has escaped; they will not trouble to count."

"I cannot believe it possible they will carry out such a butchery, Rujub."

"We shall see, sahib. I did not tell you all I knew lest we should fail to carry off the lady, but I know the orders that have been given. Word has been sent round to the butchers of the town, and tomorrow morning soon after daybreak it will be done."

Bathurst gave an exclamation of horror, for until now he had hardly believed it was possible that even Nana Sahib could perpetrate so atrocious a massacre. Not another word was spoken until they entered the wood.

"Where is the river, Rujub?"

"A few hundred yards to the left, sahib; the road is half a mile to the right. We shall be quite safe here."

They made their way for some little distance into the wood, and then laid down their burden.

They had taken to the spot where Rabda remained when the others went forward towards the prison a basket containing food and three bottles of wine, and this Rujub had carried since they started together. As soon as the hammock was lowered to the ground, Isobel moved and sat up.

"I am rested now. Oh, how good you have all been! I was just going to tell you that I could walk again. I am quite ready to go on now."

"We are going to halt here till tomorrow evening, Miss Hannay; Rujub thinks we are quite beyond any risk of pursuit now. You must first eat and drink something, and then sleep as long as you can. Rabda has brought a native dress for you and dye for staining your skin, but there is no occasion for doing that till tomorrow; the river is only a short distance away, and in the morning you will be able to enjoy a wash."

The neck was knocked off a bottle. Rabda had brought in the basket a small silver cup, and Isobel, after drinking some wine and eating a few mouthfuls of food, lay down by her and was soon fast asleep. Bathurst ate a much more hearty meal. Rujub and his daughter said that they did not want anything before morning.

The sun was high before Bathurst woke. Rujub had lighted a fire, and was boiling some rice in a lota.

"Where is Miss Hannay?" Bathurst asked, as he sat up.

"She has gone down to the river with Rabda. The trees hang down well over the water, and they can wash without fear of being seen on the opposite shore. I was going to wake you when the lady got up, but she made signs that you were to be allowed to sleep on."

In half an hour the two girls returned. Isobel was attired in a native dress, and her face, neck, arms, feet, and ankles had been stained to the same color as Rabda's. She came forward a little timidly, for she felt strange and uncomfortable in her scanty attire. Bathurst gave an exclamation of pain as he saw her face.

"How dreadfully, you have burnt yourself, Miss Hannay; surely you cannot have followed the instructions I gave you."

"No; it is not your fault at all, Mr. Bathurst; I put a great deal more on than you said, but I was so anxious to disfigure myself that I was determined to do it thoroughly; but it is nothing to what it was. As you see, my lips are getting all right again, and the sores are a good deal better than they were; I suppose they will leave scars, but that won't trouble me."

"It is the pain you must have suffered that I am thinking of," he replied. "As to the scars, I hope they will wear out in time; you must indeed have suffered horribly."

"They burnt dreadfully for a time," the girl answered; "but for the last two or three days I have hardly felt it, though, of course, it is very sore still."

"Do you feel ready for breakfast, Miss Hannay?"

"Quite ready, and for a walk as long as you like afterwards. I feel quite another creature after my dip. That was one of the worst things in the prison. We had scarcely water enough to drink, and none to wash with, and, of course, no combs nor anything."

They sat down together and ate the cold food they had brought, while Rabda and her father made their breakfast of rice.

"What has become of Mr. Wilson?" Isobel asked suddenly. "I wondered about him as I was being carried along last night, but I was too tired to talk afterwards."

"I hope he is either safe at Allahabad by this time, or is with the troops marching up. The Zemindar's son, who came down with us as an escort, and one of his men got safely to shore also, and they went on with Wilson. When he found I was going to stay at Cawnpore to try and rescue you, he pleaded very hard that I should keep him with me in order that he might share in the attempt, but his ignorance of the language might have been fatal, and his being with me would have greatly added to the difficulty, so I was obliged to refuse him. It was only because I told him that instead of adding to, he would lessen your chance of escape, that he consented to go, for I am sure he would willingly have laid down his life to save yours."

"I am very glad he is safe; he is very kind hearted and nice, Mr. Bathurst, and a thoroughly natural, unaffected young fellow, very loyal and stanch. I am quite sure he would have done anything he could, even at the risk of his life."

"I like him very much, too, Miss Hannay. Before the siege I thought him a careless, happy go lucky lad, but as I got to know him well, I found he was much more than that, and he will make a good man and an excellent officer one of these days if he is spared. He is thoroughly brave without the slightest brag—an excellent specimen of the best class of public school boy."

"And who are the troops coming up, Mr. Bathurst? How strong are they? I have heard nothing about them."

"About twelve hundred white troops and four or five hundred Sikhs; at least that is what the natives put them at."

"But surely they will never be able to fight their way to Cawnpore, where there are the mutineers and Nana Sahib's troops and the Oude men and the people of the town. Why, there must be ten to one against them."

"Not far short of that, I think, but I feel sure our men will do it. They know of the treachery of the Nana, they know of the massacre by the river, and they know that the women and children are prisoners in his hands, and do you think that men who know these things can be beaten? The Sepoys met them in superior force and in a strong position at Futtehpore, and they drove them before them like chaff. They will have harder work next time, but I have no shadow of fear of the result."