“That cry comes from Mehal,” he said, “or I am much mistaken. We shall soon know how the girl has escaped.”
He hurried down, followed by the others.
“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, as he bent over the wounded Zeemit.
“Alas! it means that I have well-nigh lost my life in your cause. But Wanna, where is she?” she suddenly exclaimed, for she was anxious to know whether her foe lived, and had told Jewan anything.
“The hag is dead,” he answered; “she lies almost pounded to a jelly at the foot of the tower.”
“That is good,” Zeemit cried, with unfeigned joy. “She deserved it—she deserved it. Tempted by a heavy bribe offered by the girl, she was going to set her free; but I interfered to prevent it. We struggled, and both fell over.”
“But the girl—where is she?”
“Alas, she must have escaped! but I have no recollection of anything after I fell.”
Jewan bit his lip. He felt that he was foiled, and it galled him almost beyond endurance.