Instantly there went up a howl for mercy, and the eunuchs inside—for there were two of them, both well-armed—cast themselves down writhing on the floor, evidently in the expectation that they were immediately to be put to death. Rupert aimed a deadly blow at one of them, but I, like a fool, struck up his weapon.
“Stay,” I said, using the Gentoo language purposely that they might understand, “it may save us trouble to spare their lives, on condition that they strictly obey our instructions.”
The wretches hearing this, instantly broke into all sorts of grovelling entreaties and oaths of fidelity. Quite disgusted by their slavish cowardice, I said to them—
“Hold your tongues! You have in this house a prisoner, an Englishwoman, whom we have come to carry away. Let one of you go at once and bring her here.”
The eunuch furthest in from the door immediately leaped to his feet and made off down the passage. But Rupert, who knew more about these sort of creatures than I did at this time, strode after him, calling out—
“Stay! I will go with you!”
But the fellow, without turning his head, sprang up a narrow staircase at the end, and darting into the first room he came to above, slammed the door to, and had it fastened before Rupert could catch him up. In another moment we heard him yelling and squalling out of the window for assistance to come and take the murderers and ravishers that were broken into the garden.
My cousin came jumping down the stairs three steps at a time.
“This comes of your cursed softness!” he growled out savagely. “As though it were not a Christian act to cut the throats of as many of these hell-hounds as possible!”
He fetched a slash at the man who lay whining at our feet that nearly severed his head from his trunk.