The devotions, such as they were, being ended, and the carpets removed, the Moulvie retired into one of the recesses, out of view of Walter, probably to partake of Afghan hospitality. Almost in front of the prison of the Europeans were the charpais on which were stretched the two Afghans wounded on the preceding evening, Mir Ghazan and Ali Khan. The former was asleep; the latter raised his languid eyes towards the Englishman, for whom he had formed a liking, and answered with courtesy Walter's inquiries as to how he had passed the night. It appeared evident that the youth's wound, though painful, was of no dangerous nature. Ali Khan had specially enjoyed the singing of Walter, and now he feebly asked the captive to sing again. Walter complied at once, choosing a parable as his theme.
The unusual sound brought the Moulvie out of his dark retreat. He was a man of repulsive appearance, with dark stern face, on whose every lineament seemed to be written bigotry and pride.
"Who is this dog of a Kafir," he cried, "who dares to lift up his voice in the hearing of true believers! Who knows with what venom he is poisoning the ears of the faithful! Let him become a follower of the true Prophet, or die the death of a dog! He should be given but the choice between Islam and the edge of the sword."
His loud angry call drew around the Moulvie a band of Afghans, who looked up towards Walter with threatening eyes, and hands grasping the hilts of their daggers.
"I know the blasphemies of these Kafirs," continued the Moulvie; "I know what is written in that book which they dare to call the Word of God."
"And which Mohammed Sahib himself acknowledged to be such," said Walter. "I, too, have read the Koran."
"Dost dare to answer me, O son of a dog! devourer of the unclean beast!" exclaimed the Moulvie, and he began to pour out a volley of imprecations which could but have the object of stirring up the ignorant fanatics around him to some deed of violence.
Perhaps there is no being upon earth to whose heart the life blood would not "thrill with sudden start" when facing almost immediate death by the hands of his fellow-creatures. Walter saw his enemy's object, and felt that his own life hung on a thread. There was an instinct to retreat back as far as he could, though but into a room whose door he could not close, as it opened from without; but a thought of Denis flashed across the prisoner's mind. Should he draw down the lightning on his friend; need there be two murders instead of one? No; instead of retreating, Walter advanced a step, so that his foot was on the first round of the ladder; he then closed the door, and set his back firmly against it, earnestly praying that the sounds which must follow might not bring Denis forth to witness and to share the terrible fate before his companion. The Englishman's face was very pale, but he blenched not.
The Moulvie also advanced a step. He raised his clenched fist, and exclaimed: "I will expose thy detestable blasphemies, and convict thee out of thine own mouth. Whom dost thou say that Isa (Jesus) the Son of Mary was?"
"The Saviour—my Saviour!" replied Walter.