He snatched my hand, and led me on toward the far end of the garden, but only to stop short, for, to my horror, I saw a door open, a blaze of light flash out, and a body of men bearing torches troop down some steps and spread across that end where they were quickly marshalled by some one in authority, and began to advance toward us.
Our position was hopeless, for now the two lines of men advancing from either end were making the place as light as day, and gradually narrowing the ground in which we could be free. It was only a matter of minutes before we should be caught between them.
Dost pressed my hand hard as he looked wildly about him.
“No trees, sahib, no trees to climb,” he whispered. “I did try so hard to save you, but I have failed. Good-bye, sahib. I was thy faithful servant. Good-bye!”
“Why do you say that?” I said huskily.
“Why?” He uttered a little laugh, and passed his hands about his neck. “They will make short work of me.”
“No,” I said; “you are my servant, and no one shall harm you. I will appeal to the rajah myself.”
I drew my sword, and thrust my injured arm through poor Dost’s, meaning to defend him; but before I could even think of what I should do next, there was a sharp rustle, a rush, and half a dozen of the original searchers, with their lanthorns, urged by their position to make a capture before the two lines of men came up and shut us in, pounced upon us, drawn there by our voices, and then in the midst of a scuffle, I saw two men go down while I was pinioned from behind. Then my captors shouted for lanthorns, there was the heavy beat of feet, and in a blaze of light, I saw Ny Deen advance, and stand before me smiling in his triumph, but making me shrink with anger and mortification, for there was a good deal of contempt in his look, as he signed to me to approach, and to the man who held me to remove my sword.