“Yes. Give up this morning’s stroll, and let’s go up here and have a walk along the roof, or battlements, whichever you like to call them.”
“Very well,” said Dick in rather a disappointed tone.
Wyatt noted it, and entered a side archway just large enough to admit one, Dick following him up a narrow stairway to the terrace-like roof of the old palace, the place being furnished with a good breastwork and quite open, so that they could walk right round the courtyard.
The sun was now rising, and they had a good view of part of the city with occasional glimpses of the walls by which it was ended.
“Better than I thought for,” said Wyatt after being silent for some time. “Last night I was afraid that the other buildings were nearer, and would command this place in case of trouble, but we command them.”
Every man knew what he had to do, and did it with the precision taught by long practice, so that there was not the slightest confusion; while already, when the two officers descended, the people from the town and neighbourhood were bringing in fruit, vegetables, and other provisions as if to a market, and the mess-men and cooks had their quarters fitted up, and were hard at work.
That morning the officers’ table was liberally supplied by the Rajah, and the meal was eaten in peace, everything being satisfactory—even the doctor’s report, he having no one on the sick-list—nothing to do.
“I think we may congratulate ourselves on our progress so far,” said Hulton.
He had hardly spoken when there was the trampling of a horse and the loud challenge of sentries, regardless of which latter a man dashed in through the gateway at full speed, and drew rein so suddenly that he threw his horse upon its haunches.
The officers hurried to the window, and the rider, seeing them, drew a paper from his cummerbund, spurred his horse up towards where they stood, a floor above him, stuck the paper on the point of the lance he carried, and held it up to Hulton.