"I must go down to the cavern and bring up the wretches there," said Beresford in a rapid undertone.
"Wait, wait, it's not safe," cried Mackenzie, wincing with the pain in his wounded arm. "Send them all back to their houses first."
"He's right," said Forrester. "Who knows but some of them will go for you in a frenzy!"
Beresford calmly gave the order; Mackenzie flung to the priests the key of the wicket gate, and they slowly passed through it, crossed the garden and the bridges, and retired into their dwellings on the farther side.
Forrester heaved a great sigh of relief. "The blessed thing won't work," he said. "If they only knew it!"
"They don't! Your appearance was a stroke of genius," said Beresford.
"Not even a lucky fluke!" said Forrester. "I put the thing on to keep it safe. It's plaguey heavy: may I take it off now, d'you think?"
"Surely, for a few minutes at any rate--out of their sight. We must decide rapidly on the next step."
They withdrew a few paces into the aisle, leaving the two Chinamen to keep watch on the priests. Jackson meanwhile did his best to bind up Mackenzie's wounded shoulder. Forrester put the head-dress on the ledge of the golden throne, and linking arms with Beresford, walked slowly towards the doorway.
"Have you found the way down?" asked Beresford.