The man looked at him in a puzzled manner for a few moments, but ended by comprehending; and after saying a few words to his companion, he went out and came round to the window where the Reverend Arthur was watching, and ready to point to the plant, a portion of which the Malay cut, and also a spray of a large jasmine, and brought in.

The prisoner took the plants and his knife, and sat down crosslegged to his breakfast, which became a prolonged meal, full of enjoyment; for between every two mouthfuls there was a long pause, and sections had to be made of the flowers and seed vessels, while notes were made in the notebook the chaplain always carried in his breast-pocket.

Altogether that was a very pleasant meal; and the two Malay guards stared to see how calm and contented their prisoner seemed to be.

Then came a period of depression, during which the chaplain questioned the Malays, making use of all the words that he had studied up during the voyage and since his stay; but they either could not or would not give him any information respecting the object of his inquiry; and he walked dreamily to the window, and stood gazing out once more.

Whatever might be his troubles or perplexities, it was impossible for the Reverend Arthur Rosebury to gaze at the beauties of nature in a botanical form without forgetting the perturbations of his spirit; and consequently he had not been looking out at the wonderful collection of plants, for the most part strange to him, many minutes, before he was signing to the Malay guard to cut him a fresh specimen.

This the man readily did; and with intervals for meals and fits of despondency at not being able to help Helen Perowne, the Reverend Arthur Rosebury pa.s.sed his first day in prison.

The next was very similar, for he was treated with the greatest of kindness and consideration, except that he could obtain no information whatever respecting his detention or his fellow-captive.

On the third day, upon signifying a desire to have another specimen of the plants in the garden, the guard handed to him one of the little woven caps worn by the Malays, signed to him to put it on as he had not his own hat, led him out through a doorway into the garden, and then said, in fair English:

"You may walk and pick flowers. If you run away you will be killed."

The chaplain stared at the man, and asked him some other questions, but the Malay guard pointed to the flowers, waved his hand over the garden as if to say, "You are free to walk here;" and seating himself upon a stump, he took out his betel-box, extracted a sirih leaf, smeared it with coral-lime mixed into a cream, rolled a piece of nut therein, and placing the preparation in his mouth, he began to chew it calmly without seeming to heed his prisoner, though he was watchfully observant of him the whole time.

Helen Perowne was entirely forgotten for the s.p.a.ce of three hours, during which the chaplain dreamily revelled in the beauties of the wonderful flowers of that Eastern land. He had no thought outside the present, and in a kind of ecstasy he wandered here and there till, truth to tell, he began to feel hungry, and hunger made him look up at the long, low, palm-thatched building that was his prison.

Hunger made him also, for some occult reason, begin to think of Helen, and he found himself wondering whether she was confined anywhere near him, and if so, could he make known his presence by any means.

Just then, seeing him gazing hard at the house, the Malay rose from his seat, where he had remained patiently the whole time, and pointing to the open door, the chaplain went in laden with flowers sufficient to occupy him in making scientific notes for the rest of the day.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

CHUMBLEY'S COOLNESS.

"I say, this is a rum set-out, Bertie," drawled Chumbley. "I suppose you are there?"

"Yes, I am here, or there, as you choose to call it," replied Hilton, rather bitterly, for his bonds gave him no little pain.

"I will loosen the rajahs now," said the voice that Chumbley had heard all through his unpleasant adventure.

Busy hands were now about them, and a knife was used to cut them free; but their limbs were so cramped by the long confinement, and so tightly bound, that they could hardly move.

Then the handkerchiefs were removed from their eyes, and they lay back on the soft matting gazing about them, the subdued light of the large room in which they found themselves being very grateful to their dazzled eyes.

The man who had set them free from the cords was a stern-looking, muscular Malay in plain cotton jacket and sarong, in whose folds were stuck a couple of formidable-looking krisses; and the place in which the prisoners' eyes struggled with the light was a tolerably large room floored with split bamboo, the walls being for the most part a kind of basket-work of cane, partially covered with native woven hangings, while the floor was pretty well hidden by Persian and Turkish rugs.

Everything looked cool and comfortable; and, in spite of the absence of tables and chairs, there was a good deal of elegance in the way in which various ornaments of bronze and china were arranged about the apartment.

Here and there, too, were objects of European manufacture, princ.i.p.ally in gla.s.s, Italian imitations of old Venice being princ.i.p.ally chosen.

Naturally enough the first glances of the prisoners were aimed at the windows, of which there were two, and at the door; but they were evidently strongly made, and though the bars of the windows were but wood, they were stout bamboos externally almost as hard to cut as flint.

The Malay saw their looks; and making a sign to them, he crossed to the door and threw it open, admitting with the rays of the morning sun the glinting of the spear-heads of half a dozen stout Malay guards.

Closing the door, he beckoned to the prisoners to come to the windows.

Hilton essayed to rise, but sank back upon his mats with an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n indicative of pain, for the attempt was full of suffering to his swollen limbs.

Chumbley, though in pain, was more successful, or more fall of fort.i.tude, for he struggled to his feet, and heavily tottered across the bamboos and mats to the window, which was covered with a beautifully-scented creeper, and through which a pleasant prospect was visible of undulating woodland and dense jungle.

"Quite fresh to me," muttered Chumbley; "I wonder where we are?"

Not till he had had this glance round did he pay any heed to the Malay, who was pointing to a group below each window of three well-armed men.

"They are to kill you if you try to go," he said, quietly; and then, with a meaning smile, he left the room, fastening the door with some kind of bar.

"This is atrocious!" cried Hilton, as he bit his lip, and pressed his swollen wrists; while Chumbley dropped at full length upon the mats, turned upon his back, and began to rub his legs.

"A--bom--i--na--ble," he drawled.

"That scoundrel Murad is at the bottom of it, I'll swear," cried Hilton.

"Hang the fellow! I could shoot him like a dog."

"You should have hung him or shot him before he carried out this game,"

said Chumbley, rubbing away very softly, and evidently feeling a good deal of satisfaction as his reward.

"It is to get me out of the way while he resumes his attentions to--you know," he cried, peevishly; "but he might have saved himself the trouble, for I've done."

"He seems to have had an idea of going it wholesale," drawled Chumbley, "or else he wouldn't have brought me."

"What shall we do now?" said Hilton, altering his position, for the numbing sensation was pa.s.sing off.

"As soon as ever I've done rubbing my legs," said Chumbley, "I'm going to have another cigar; and then if they don't bring us breakfast I shall have a nap, for I feel as if it would do Mr Chumbley good."

"Chumbley, I haven't patience with you!" cried Hilton.

"Not when you have pins and needles in your legs, dear boy; but have a weed to soothe you, and then you can philosophise over our trouble.

Say, old chap."

"What?"

"No parade this morning--no drill. No anything to do at all but lie here and smoke. Hah! this is a nice one. Look out, old man. Catch!"

To Hilton's annoyance his friend coolly took a cigar from his case, struck a light, and having ignited the end of his roll of tobacco-leaf, he pitched case and match-box to his friend, then lay back and smoked.

For a few minutes Hilton gazed at him in an angry, disgusted manner; but the process of smoking looked so calming in its effects upon his friend, that he submitted to the desire to imitate him, and proceeded to light a cigar himself; but before he had been smoking many minutes, a regular hard breathing told him that Chumbley was dozing, and sure enough he was lying there, heedless of present trouble and that to come, his cigar tightly held between his teeth, and his breath coming and going, as he slept placidly and well.

"I always thought Chumbley cool," muttered Hilton in an annoyed way; "but he really is the coolest fellow I ever met. Why, that villain may kill us to-morrow--to-day for what I know. Oh, it's monstrous! and all through that wretched, coquettish girl."

"I hate myself!" he said, after a few minutes' pause. Why, he did not say, but he, too, lay back and indulged in his friend's bad habit, feeling gradually calmer and more at rest, especially as the furtive rub he gave from time to time at one or other of the places where the bonds had been was mollifying in its effect.

Chumbley was fast asleep; of that there could be no doubt, so Hilton determined that it was his duty to watch for both. He could not go to sleep at a time like this, so he began thinking about Helen, muttering angrily the while; but by degrees his countenance softened, his eyes closed, his cigar fell from his lips, the infection of Chumbley's despised readiness to sleep came over him, and, quite exhausted, he, too, lay breathing heavily, and perfectly unconscious of the lapse of time. Naturally enough he dreamed of Helen and her careless coquettish treatment of his love, which was rapidly cooling down, like the lava after some violent eruption, and giving place to a hard and bitter anger at her heartless ways.