"Don't be absurd," said Hilton excitedly. "Shall we try to-night?"

"Well, no; let's leave it till to-morrow, when we can devote the day to storing up cigars and food; and then if they don't find out the hole I have made, we can slip through and make for the river."

"But suppose they find out the hole you have made."

"Well, then we must try another plan: your way through the thatch."

"Yes, of course. But, by the way, old fellow, I wish you would drop that habit you have just taken up of spitting through the window."

"Certainly I will," said Chumbley, coolly; "but don't you see, old fellow, I've had to get rid of a lot of bamboo chips, and that was the only way I could destroy them. They're awfully harsh chewing, by the way."

Hilton looked at him with a kind of admiration.

"And to think that I've been abusing you for your indolence!" he cried.

"Didn't hurt me a bit," said Chumbley. "Go it. I don't mind."

That night and the next day seemed as if they would never pa.s.s. Every time a native servant entered Hilton felt sure that he had some suspicion about the loosened bamboos, and it seemed as if his eyes were directed towards the pile of mats upon which Chumbley slept.

But at last, after a false alarm of the Princess coming, the night fell, and with a beating heart Hilton set about filling his pockets and a handkerchief with provisions for the journey, Chumbley seeming all the while to be plunged into a state of lethargy.

"Come, Chum," whispered Hilton, at last, "be stirring, man."

"Heaps of time yet, my boy," replied the other. "Lie down and have a nap."

"Will nothing stir you?" whispered Hilton, wrathfully. "Good Heavens, man, rouse yourself!"

"Shan't. I'm resting. There's heaps to do when we start, and I want to be fresh. Lie down."

"Hang it, don't speak as if I were a dog," cried Hilton, sharply.

"Have the goodness to lie down and rest yourself, my dear boy," said Chumbley in a polite drawl. "It is of no use for us to attempt to stir till the fellows are all asleep, so save yourself up."

Hilton obeyed, lying down upon the matting, and in spite of his excitement, he felt a strangely-delicious drowsy sensation stealing over him, to which he yielded, and the next moment--so it seemed to him-- Chumbley laid a great hand over his lips, and whispered:

"Time's up!"

He rose to his knees, to find that it was intensely dark, and saving an occasional howl from the forest, all was perfectly still.

"I've got the bamboos up," whispered Chumbley, "and you are going first, because I can then hold your hands and lower you softly down. Don't speak, but do as I bid you."

Hilton felt ready to resist his companion's autocratic ways, but he obeyed him in silence, Chumbley lowering him through the hole to the open s.p.a.ce below the house, the building being raised some eight feet above the ground upon huge bamboo piles, as a protection from floods and the prowling tiger.

The next minute there was a faint rustle, a heavy breathing, a slight crack or two, and Hilton received a heavy kick.

Then Chumbley dropped to his feet.

"I got stuck," he whispered, as he took his friend's hand; "thought I should not have got through. Now then, the river lies straight before us, under that great star. 'Ware guards and tigers, and we shall be safe."

It was intensely dark beneath the house, and but little better as they emerged from the piles upon which it was built, to stand with the dense jungle before them, impenetrable save where there was a path; and they were about to step boldly forth, when something bright seemed to twinkle for a moment between them and the stars, and by straining their eyes they made out that straight before them were the misty-looking forms of a couple of their Malay guards.

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER SIX.

IN TIME OF PERIL.

With eyes wild and hair dishevelled Helen Perowne sat crouched together as far from the Rajah as her means would allow.

"Why, Helen," he said mockingly, and with a gleam of triumph in his eyes, as he half reclined against the bamboo wall, "how beautiful you look!" He made a movement as if to clasp her in his arms, but she sprang up with a cry of horror.

"What folly!" he said, laughing as he slowly changed his feet. "And you will not drink--you are afraid that I shall try to poison you. Don't be afraid. Why should I now? I love you too well. When first you began to woo me--"

She burst into a piteous fit of sobbing, and then turned upon him her eyes full of misery and despair.

"That makes you more handsome!" he cried, excitedly. "Be angry with me; I love it! I will say that again. When you first began to woo me--"

It had not the intended effect, for Helen remained silent, watching him with dilated eyes, as if he were some tiger about to make a spring.

"I say when you first began to woo me," he continued, "I resisted for a time, for you are only a white woman, and not of our blood or our religion; but I felt at last that you had made me your slave, and once my love had turned to you, fate told me that you would be mine, and I gave way to my pa.s.sion. Then you led me on till I declared my love, when you professed to cast me off, and I accepted the words; but they were words only. Fate said that I was to take to myself a wife from the invaders of my country, and do you think I was going to let the opposition of your friends, as you did, stand in the way?"

He waited for her to reply, but she remained watchful and silent.

"I knew all along," he went on, evidently to provoke her to speak, "that you only professed to reject me, and that you were waiting, as I was, the time when you would be mine; and though I grew daily more impatient, I was ready to wait for my reward. At last the time has come. Look at me well, my wife, for such you are; even the priests have studied, and found that a prince of my race was to marry a woman fair as the morning light."

He took a step forward, and as she shrank back with a cry of horror, he stopped and laughed.

"Why do you shrink away, little wife?" he said. "The time has pa.s.sed now for that, and you should cling to me, and pay me for my patient waiting and my brave deed. But you were afraid of the water and wine, as if I should poison or drug you. Why should I? You are here--my wife--in my home amongst my slaves. It is foolishness to think that I should give you poison to drink--to you who love me so well. See here!"

He walked quickly forward to where the wine was placed, and Helen watched him keenly as he poured out a cupful, smiled at her, and drank it slowly to the last drop.

"Now," he said, smiling, "will you drink without fear? I will pour you out a cup. No; I will use this from which I drank. It is only your husband's, and you need not mind."

He poured out a fresh cup of the palm wine; but as if from clumsiness shook the native bottle that contained the liquid. Helen did not perceive it; but the wine as he partook of it himself was clear; now it was thick and discoloured, a fact that would have been seen at once in a gla.s.s.

She still kept aloof from him, with her mind actively at work, seeking some means of escaping from her enemy's hands, for she could not conceal from herself that appeals and violence would be equally in vain.

She came to the full endors.e.m.e.nt, then, of previous thoughts--that her sole hope of escape depended upon artifice: her womanly cunning must be brought to bear. She felt that she had mastered Murad before; why should she not now--by seeming to accept her fate? He would, she argued, doubtless submit to her wishes if she showed a semblance of accepting his suit, and in this spirit, as he pressed her once more to partake of the wine, she began to parley with him.

"I do not drink wine," she said.

"But you must be faint," he urged. "You have only drunk water; you have not eaten."

"Then I will eat," she said.

"May I seat myself, and eat with you?"

She paused for a moment, for her nature fought against the subterfuge she was about to practise; but he was keenly watching her, and she motioned to him to take his seat upon the mats.