Volume Three—Chapter Eight.
A Faithful Ally.
The alarm was not of long duration, for it soon became evident that Murad was still under the influence of the powerful narcotic. He did not see either of the other occupants of the room, but staggered here and there for a few moments, and then sank heavily once more upon the mats, placing his head in an easy position, and falling into a heavy sleep, his breathing sounding deep and regular to the trembling girls.
“We need not mind,” said the Malay girl at last. “He cannot hear me. I will climb up.”
The bars of the window formed a ladder for her ascent, and she clambered slowly up till her feet were resting upon the topmost bar. Then there was a rustling and cutting noise, and every now and then a dull pat, as of something falling into the bushes below.
It was a terrible position for Helen, who, unable to assist, could only listen and keep her eyes fixed on Murad, whom she momentarily expected to see arise wrathfully and call for help to seize the brave girl working so hard without to obtain freedom for both.
Then, as the Rajah still remained breathing heavily, another form of dread attacked her; she felt sure that some of the guards or people must hear this loud rustling noise, so that it was with an intense feeling of relief that Helen heard the sounds cease. Then there was a louder rustling as of someone drawing herself up, and directly after the Malay girl climbed down into the room, Helen clasping her tightly in her arms.
The girl freed herself hastily and went across to where Murad lay sleeping, bent down over him, gazing steadily in his face, and then turned with a bitter laugh.
“I have said good-bye to him, so now let us go. If I look at him again I shall never be able to leave. Let us escape.”
“But how?” exclaimed Helen, helplessly.