He waved me aside with a haughty gesture and left the room. The Faytans are philosophers and accept death without a murmur. The king, my friend, could not understand my protest.
Friend? Well, it was a queer sort of friendship that made no effort to save me; that had no sympathy for my unhappy fate.
I am a good deal of a coward at times. That night I could not sleep. Thinking over my predicament with sober care I could see no possible way of escape. My prison was well guarded. If I managed to leave it there was no chance of my being able to pass through the native city and gain the ship unchallenged. Still, desperate conditions require desperate remedies, and I had my two revolvers in my pocket, both fully loaded. About midnight it occurred to me to make a bold dash for liberty. If I failed I could be no worse off than now, since I was condemned to die the next morning.
The windows of my room were not glazed or barred. They were big square openings placed about five feet above the floor. By standing on the stone bench that ran around the room I could look out upon the square at the rear of the temple. I had no light; neither was there any light burned outside; but the stars were bright enough for me to observe all surrounding objects distinctly. I found the square deserted save by a solitary form standing almost directly beneath my window, his back toward me. A blanket covered his head and shoulders, for the natives dread the chill night air and usually wear a blanket in this manner when abroad at night.
I waited for the man to move away, but when a half hour passed and he did not stir I decided he was a sentry placed there to prevent my escape. It was the first time a guard of any sort had been set to watch over me.
The sight of his blanket gave me an idea. I gathered up one of the heaviest of those with which my bench was provided and creeping into the thick embrasure of the window I spread the blanket, dropped it swiftly over the head of the sentry, and then leaped down and caught him firmly around the arms, bearing him to the ground with my weight.
Although muffled in the blanket, which obstructed free action, the fellow struggled desperately, and I soon realized I could not subdue him. I dared not fire a revolver, as the sound would bring a horde upon me; so I managed to draw my pocket knife and open the blade. With this I stabbed repeatedly at the blanket, trying to reach the man’s heart, but the cloth was so thick and closely woven that the rather blunt end of my knife would not penetrate it, and all the while I was having greater difficulty in holding him down.
Rendered desperate by this condition I suddenly sprang away and made for the nearest alley that led out of the square, leaving the sentry to fumble with the blanket until he could free his head.
Before he could do this I had entered a narrow street, up which I ran at my best speed. By good luck it led westward, and I had visions of making a successful run across the island when suddenly in the darkness a pair of strong arms were flung around me and I was pinioned in a viselike grip.
“Pardon me,” said a low, sneering voice, in the native tongue. “It is not wise to walk out at night. The dews of Faytan are dangerous.”