By degrees Helen learned from the girl, who spoke in a bitter, half-distant way, that she had been shut up in a room by herself, and threatened with death, but that she had immediately set to work to escape, and had succeeded by climbing up, and tearing a hole through the palm thatch, forcing her way out, and sliding afterwards down the steep slope, and falling pretty heavily amongst the bushes below.
She was not much hurt, however; and after lying still for a long time to make sure that she was not heard, she had slowly forced her way through the dense undergrowth, making a long circuit so as to approach the window of the room where Helen was a prisoner without exciting attention.
“You must speak lower,” she said, “or he will wake;” and then Helen told her of the drugged wine—or, rather, of her suspicions that the wine was drugged.
“And he drank it!” cried the girl, excitedly. “Ah, then, that is right,” and her whole manner changed. “He will not wake up till long after sunrise. I know what that poison will do. I drank of it when I was first brought here, and I slept for one whole day. We need not be afraid of him then, but we must mind not to waken the other people near.”
She ceased speaking, and Helen heard a loud rustling and panting noise, and a few minutes later a dark face rose to a level with hers, and she clasped the Malay girl towards her and began to sob.
The girl kissed her through the bars, there being just space enough for their faces to approach, and then, with an eager look at the sleeping figure, she whispered that it was time to act.
“But what shall we do—what can we do?” whispered Helen.
“You said you wanted to leave him, and that you would take me back with you to your own people. Will you do so now?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” whispered Helen, excitedly; “make haste and let us go!”
“But are you sure that you wish to leave him?” said the girl, dubiously.