Such was his state of mind when, as he was passing along a corridor flanked on either side by dark and gloomy doorways, he saw that the passageway he was following ended at a transverse corridor. Which way should he turn? He knew that he could not hesitate, and at that moment he heard a voice calling his name from the interior of a dark cell beyond one of the gloomy doorways.
King halted as did the men near him, startled and apprehensive, their weapons ready. King stepped toward the doorway from which the voice had come.
"Who speaks?" he demanded.
"It is I—Indra Sen," replied the voice, and with a sigh of relief that was almost a gasp King stepped quickly to the low doorway.
The light of his torch illuminated a narrow cell, upon the floor of which squatted Indra Sen, chained to the wall.
"May the gods be thanked that you have come, Gordon King," cried the young Khmer officer; "and may they grant that you are not too late to prevent a tragedy."
"What do you mean?" demanded King.
"Fou-tan is to be forced to wed Bharata Rahon to-night," replied Indra Sen. "Perhaps the ceremony already has been performed. All those whose duty it is to defend Fou-tan have been chained in the dungeon here."
"Where is the ceremony to be performed?" demanded King.
"In the great audience chamber," replied Indra Sen.