"Go, my Lord; and may all the gods—no, the Christian God—watch over you!"
"Forward!" growled Ahmed. First, though, he saw to it that the pulling chains were well wrapped in cotton blankets. There must be no sound to warn others of their approach.
"Ahmed," began Bruce.
"Leave all things to me, Sahib," interrupted Ahmed, who assumed a strange authority at times that confused and puzzled Bruce. "It is my Mem-sahib, and I am one of the fingers of the long arm of the British Raj. And there are books in Calcutta in which my name is written high. No more!"
Through the moon-frosted jungle the two elephants moved silently. A drove of wild pigs scampered across the path, and the wild peacock hissed from the underbrush sleepily. All silence again. Several times Ahmed halted, straining his ears. It seemed incredible to Bruce that the enormous beasts could move so soundlessly. It was a part of their business; they were hunters of their kind.
At length they came out into the open at the rear of the prison walls. Here Ramabai got down, and went in search of any sentries. He returned almost at once with the good news that there was none.
The marble walls shimmered like clusters of dull opals. What misery had been known behind their crumbling beauty!
Ahmed marked the tree and raised his hand as a sign.
"Bruce Sahib!" he called.
"Yes, Ahmed. I'll risk it first."