"How knowest thou that he escaped by the window?"
"He left a bit of his coat behind on this stone!" cried the intelligent child, triumphantly exhibiting a fragment of the garment which Denis had torn in his struggle to get through the hole, and which her hand had accidentally touched.
"After him, and seize him!" cried the chief.
There needed no second command. Like hounds at the sound of the wild halloo, the Afghans rushed from the room, knocking one another over in their eagerness to descend the staircase-ladder. The chief followed almost as quickly, remembering what his men had forgotten, that he had the key at his girdle, by means of which alone they could pass through the gate to commence their midnight search, after descending the hill on whose summit the hill was built.
Sultána sprang down from the window. Walter heard her voice, as clasping her little hands she exclaimed, "Allah! Sultána thanks Thee! Thou hast sent her to save her Feringhee again!"
CHAPTER XV.
THE KNOTTED ROPE.
We must return to Dermot Denis, clinging to his rope, and descending on his perilous way.
Dangerous it was, that he knew; but his bold and buoyant spirit was full of hope, as soon as by violent effort he had succeeded in squeezing his body through the window. He clambered down as rapidly as he could, for the doubt soon forced itself on his mind whether his arms, whose muscles were unaccustomed to that peculiar kind of effort, could support the weight of his body for any great length of time. The knots were in one way a help, affording small projections for the feet; but they made it impossible for the rope to slip rapidly through his hands, as cordage through those of a sailor. Denis intuitively counted them as he passed them; each knot was a step towards freedom, but their number was appalling. Denis had, he knew, made two hundred and fifteen knots; his arms ached before he had passed twenty. He could dimly distinguish the outline of the top of the fort cutting the blue sky above him; if he attempted to glance downwards, there was nothing but darkness beneath—he seemed to be descending into unfathomable space! Down, down, down! Eighty knots were passed; the tension of the muscles now was agony, but Denis did not dare to let go. He could hardly even guess how far he was from the bottom; he was alarmed to see how small a space he seemed to have placed between himself and the top. The climber feared that he could not have gone half the distance, and he was as one on the rack! Desperately the bold Irishman held on his way; ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, then he felt the knot which he now grasped not like the rest; it was slipping—giving way—oh horror! the next moment the unfortunate Denis was dashed to the bottom! With characteristic carelessness he had not fully tested one knot,—only one,—and that carelessness cost him his life!
Low down amongst the brushwood, where no human foot ever had trodden, lay the mangled, broken corpse of the unfortunate Denis. No time to pray, he had said ere he started; he had thrown away his last opportunity; oh, had he but known that it was his last!