As he rose to his feet, breathless with the struggle, Haidee seized his hand, and kissing it with frantic delight, whispered—“The Houris are good. The light of my eyes is not darkened. You live. Life of my life. Come, we may yet escape.” She made known her thanks to Martin by a pressure of the hand.
Another brilliant flash of lightning showed them the stilled form of the Sepoy. A deafening crash of thunder followed, and the rain came down in a perfect deluge.
The storm was a friend indeed, and a friend in need. It no doubt prevented the cry of the now dead man from reaching those for whom it was intended, as, in such a downpour, no one would be from under a shelter who could avoid it.
The howling of the wind, and the heavy rattle of the rain, drowned the noise of their footsteps.
Drenched with the rain, her long hair streaming in the wind, Haidee sped along, followed by the two men. She led them down the avenue of banyans, and then turning off into a patch of jungle, struck into a narrow path. The lightning played about the trees—the rain rattled with a metallic sound on the foliage—heaven’s artillery thundered with deafening peals.
Presently she came to a small gateway. She had the key; the lock yielded.
“There is a guard stationed close to here,” she whispered: “we must be wary.”
They passed through the gateway. The gate was closed. They were in a large, open, treeless space. Across this they sped. The lightning was against them here, for it rendered them visible to any eyes that might be watching.
But the beating rain and the drifting wind befriended them. The open space was crossed in safety.