“Strangers!” said the stalactites, in an awe-struck whisper.
“Show them! Show them! Let them stand forth!”
“Oh-h-h-h-h! Let them stand forth!” said the roof.
The mullah bowed as if that idea were a new one and he thought it better than his own; for all crowds love flattery.
“Bring them!” he shouted, and King suppressed a shudder--for what proof had he of right to be there beyond Ismail's verbal corroboration of a lie? Would Ismail lie for him again? he wondered. And if so, would the lie be any use?
Not far from where King sat there was an immediate disturbance in the crowd, and a wretched-looking Baluchi was thrust forward at a run, with arms lashed to his sides and a pitiful look of terror on his face. Two more Baluchis were hustled along after him, protesting a little, but looking almost as hopeless.
Once in the arena, the guards took charge of all three of them and lined them up facing the mullah, clubbing them with their rifle-butts to get quick obedience. The crowd began to be noisy again, but the mullah signed for silence.
“These are traitors!” he howled, with a gesture such as Ajax might have used when he defied the lightning.
The roof said “Traitors!”
“Slay them, then!” howled the crowd, delighted. And blinking behind the horn-rimmed spectacles, King began to look about busily for hope, where there did not seem to be any.