Gil the Gunner Part 81

"No go down there, sahib," said Dost, softly.

I shook my head, and followed him to the end, where a stronger light shone up, and on looking down there, we found that the officers were collected, as if waiting for orders.

Dost shook his head again, and walked back along the roof, with the grounds on our left, the well-filled square on the right, and the dark end of the large summer-house before us.

There everything was black, and we had no need for caution in looking over.

I could not help shuddering as I drew back my head, on hearing a loud slapping noise below me, and a peculiar whishing, rushing sound.

"No," said Dost. "No boat. Muggers. Can't go that way."

For the swift river was gliding by just beneath the walls of the summer-house; whose windows looked down upon what by day would be doubtless a lovely scene, but which now was gloomy and repulsive in the extreme.

"What shall we do, then?" I asked.

"Wait," said Dost, quietly, and he unwound the rope from me, and carefully made it into a coil, which he pa.s.sed over his left arm.

"Wouldn't it be better to stop till later? They will not search this place again."

"I don't know, sahib. They may come up here, and there is nowhere to hide."

"Shall we go back into the garden, and try some other way."

"There is no other way," he replied. "The river shuts off all one side, sahib, and the other is full of Ny Deen's soldiers."

"Tell me," I whispered. "What about the fighting? Our people were not beaten?"

"I don't know, sahib. I can't understand. The rajah drove all before him, and they retreated far away."

That was piteous news, and I drew a long breath as I felt how hopeless my condition was growing. It had seemed so easy to escape when once I was out of the palace, but on putting it to the test, the difficulties had increased with every step.

"Let's look down into that great court again, Dost," I said softly.

"There may be a part that is not watched."

We looked over, and Dost drew back shaking his head.

"No, sahib," he said; "we have done that twice. Once I hung down over the guards' heads. We must not try again. It might mean death."

He was quite right, and I remained silent for a few moments. He spoke at last.

"If we could only get among the houses, sahib," he said, "and walked quietly--you like that, I like this. No one would speak to us. Come, we must try the garden again."

It seemed to be the only way, and I followed him down from the roof to the first floor, and then down to the bottom, where our position was very precarious, for the men outside had only to reach up to the windows, raise their torches, and gaze in to see us in one or other of the great rooms.

But as they had thoroughly searched the place, this was not done, and we reached the door in safety, and stood looking out into the extensive grounds, with their walks, great trees, and clumps of shrubs.

The place seemed to be just the same as before; intensely dark, surrounded as it was by high buildings, and the moving lanthorns looked in the distance like sparks in tinder, gliding here and there.

"Where shall we make for, Dost?" I said.

"The big house in the corner, sahib," he whispered back. "It is close to the river; but we may be able to get through there, and into a part not watched. If we cannot get away then, we must wait till morning."

I could do nothing but obey, and following him closely, we began our dangerous walk through the great gardens, always on the point of being seen by one of the guards; but, thanks to the darkness, and the effect the lights had on the men's own eyes, escaping, though often enough it was by the merest chance.

We had pa.s.sed about half-way toward the building at the right-hand corner, its lights in the windows acting as our guide, and were crouching down among some bushes while a couple of the guards went by, when, all at once, there was a light flashed up from behind us, one which grew brighter every moment, and, looking back, we made out that the men we had seen were coming into the grounds through the great summer-house, and were spreading across, evidently to thoroughly search the grounds again.

Dost uttered a low murmur of dismay, as, by the distribution of the lights, he saw that there was to be a regular hunt of the gardens, after the fashion of beating up a tiger.

"Come, quick!" he whispered. "The rajah must be there."

He s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand, and led me on toward the far end of the garden, but only to stop short, for, to my horror, I saw a door open, a blaze of light flash out, and a body of men bearing torches troop down some steps and spread across that end where they were quickly marshalled by some one in authority, and began to advance toward us.

Our position was hopeless, for now the two lines of men advancing from either end were making the place as light as day, and gradually narrowing the ground in which we could be free. It was only a matter of minutes before we should be caught between them.

Dost pressed my hand hard as he looked wildly about him.

"No trees, sahib, no trees to climb," he whispered. "I did try so hard to save you, but I have failed. Good-bye, sahib. I was thy faithful servant. Good-bye!"

"Why do you say that?" I said huskily.

"Why?" He uttered a little laugh, and pa.s.sed his hands about his neck.

"They will make short work of me."

"No," I said; "you are my servant, and no one shall harm you. I will appeal to the rajah myself."

I drew my sword, and thrust my injured arm through poor Dost's, meaning to defend him; but before I could even think of what I should do next, there was a sharp rustle, a rush, and half a dozen of the original searchers, with their lanthorns, urged by their position to make a capture before the two lines of men came up and shut us in, pounced upon us, drawn there by our voices, and then in the midst of a scuffle, I saw two men go down while I was pinioned from behind. Then my captors shouted for lanthorns, there was the heavy beat of feet, and in a blaze of light, I saw Ny Deen advance, and stand before me smiling in his triumph, but making me shrink with anger and mortification, for there was a good deal of contempt in his look, as he signed to me to approach, and to the man who held me to remove my sword.

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

As soon as I could drag my eyes from Ny Deen's mocking gaze, I looked round sharply for Dost, and a chill ran through me as I failed to see him. For the moment I hesitated to speak, in the hope that he might have escaped, and inquiries might only lead to his pursuit; but it was such a forlorn hope that I gave it up at once, and turned to speak to the rajah.

"Where is my servant?" I said. "Salaman?" he replied. "No, no; my old servant, Dost."

"The man who was with you just now?"

"Yes," I cried.

"I do not know," replied Ny Deen. "I suppose killed, as the result of his rashness."

I gave him a glance full of horror, and then looked round at the crowd of armed men so fiercely, that the rajah spoke.

"Where is the man," he said. There was a dead silence, which I interpreted to mean that he had been killed.

The rajah took a step or two forward, glaring round so savagely that one of the men who had seized us prostrated himself.

"You have killed him?" said Ny Deen, in a low guttural voice, which made me shiver.