CHAPTER V
THE COURT OF THE LION
When Bruce dropped down into the arena to Kathlyn's side he had never given a thought to the possibility of the key not being the right one. Trapped!—and Ahmed but a few yards away with a zenana gharry, ready to convey them to the camp, freedom! It took the heart out of him for a moment. The confusion all about, the pall of dust, the roaring of the frightened lions which had escaped destruction, the shrill cries of the panic-stricken populace, who now looked upon the white Mem-sahib as the daughter of Shaitan, these dulled his inventive faculties for the nonce. Here was the confusion, properly planned, and he could not make use of it. Possibly, when no further explosion shook the air, the mob and the soldiers would return out of curiosity. And then, good-by!
But the sight of a lion emerging from the murk, the wrong side of the crevice, roused him thoroughly.
"Save yourself!" said Kathlyn in despair: "there is no possible way of saving me. I have never in all my life injured any one, and yet God makes me go through all this.… I am mad, you are, the whole world is!… Run!"
Bruce laughed; it was that kind of laughter with which men enter battle. He drew Lal Singh's revolvers and thrust one into her hand.
"Shoot at the keyhole. Leave the lion to me. With the pandemonium no one will note the shots, or if they do, will think that more explosions are on the way. I'll get you out of this nightmare; that's what I was born for."
"Nightmare!"
"There, now!"—as Kathlyn leaned dizzily against one of the supports.