Volume Two—Chapter Twenty One.
The Inche Maida at Home.
“Ah, Princess,” cried Hilton, flushing with pleasure as he saw help and liberty shining as it were in the face of a friend, whose extended hand he took, “this is kind of you indeed. You had heard, then, of the outrage of these Malay people, and have come to have us freed.”
“Outrage!” cried the Princess indignantly. “Who has dared to hurt you?”
“That we do not know,” cried Hilton, eagerly. “You must discover that. I am glad to see you indeed.”
“And I you,” she replied, smiling in the young officer’s face, as he retained her hand. “Ah, Mr Chumbley,” she continued, extending her left. “I am very pleased to meet you once again.”
Chumbley shook the hand stretched out to him, and smiled as he looked curiously at their visitor, for slow of movement as he was, he was quick of apprehension, and he did not place his companion’s interpretation upon the meeting.
“I hope you were not hurt, Mr Chumbley,” she said.
“Oh, but we were,” cried Hilton, quickly, and before his friend could speak. “We were seized and dragged here by a pack of scoundrels who did not spare us much.”