'Do you hear?' roared the leader, making a dash at the poor man with his sword. 'Silence! I have to put a question to these mem-sahibs. If they answer it truly they are free. The daughter of that son of Satan, who calls himself the General Elton, is here. I am sent to take her prisoner. Let her give herself up and the rest are free!'
In the little group of trembling women there was neither sound nor stir; but their guide sprang forward.
'She is not here,' he cried.
'You lie, infidel!'
'Nay, by the Prophet's beard. I speak the truth! To satisfy you, I will give you the names of those here. Let them go on in peace, and——'
The leader broke in with an awful imprecation.
'That is enough,' he cried. 'If she has escaped me, all these shall die.'
He advanced threateningly. Even as he did so there came from close at hand a voice, so clear and still that it seemed to be ringing down from the upper air. 'They shall not die,' it said, 'I am here.'
It was like a vision. Hoosanee told his master so, when, sobbing like a child, he gave him an account of his stewardship. Pale as death; but, moving proudly like a queen, her head thrown back, her eyes burning under their lids; she stood suddenly amongst them—the young English girl who knew how to die.