red an ejaculation at the darkness, and hurried
across to the stand, where he paused to strike a light, the lamp having
by some accident gone out.

The light of the match he had struck illuminated the tent, and I glanced
sharply round, but no one else was visible; and as I lay wondering, and
ready to believe it all fancy, there was what felt like a note crushed
in my hand, and Salaman was busy about the tent.

"Is my lord asleep?" he said softly.

"No," I replied.

"When my lord wishes the lamp to be turned out, so that he may look at
the lightning, if he calls his servant will come."

"Yes; thank you," I said. And then I lay thinking, my heart thumping
heavily the while.

Somebody--a friend, then--had crept into the tent and turned out the
lamp, before trying to give me the note.

But was it a note?

It felt like it, as I held it tightly in my hand, longing now for the
man to go, but afraid to say a word to send him away, for fear I should
raise his suspicions in the slightest degree, and induce him to rouse
his companions and watch, or go round the tent at a time when I felt
sure that the bearer of the note was hiding just outside.

Oh, how long it seemed, and what a number of petty, trifling little
things Salaman did before he moved toward the doorway of the tent!

I do not think he did more than was his custom; but this time I fancied
he suspected something wrong, and was watching me.

I was quite right. He was watching me intently; and I turned hot and
trembled, for it would be horrible, I felt, if help was near, to have it
discovered by this man, who was thoroughly devoted to the rajah's
interests, and who would, I felt sure, have to answer with his head if I
escaped through his neglect.

He came nearer to me, and I was afraid he would read the anxiety in my
face; and yet I dared not turn it round and away from him, for fear of
making him suspect me more, so I lay gazing straight at him.

"Would my lord like a cool drink?" he asked.

"No," I replied; "not now."

"My lord's voice is changed!" he cried excitedly. "He is not worse?"

"Oh no;--better," I said.

"But my lord speaks strangely--as he did that night when the serpent
crawled into the room. He has not been alarmed? Yes, I know--by the
terrible storm."

"Think--think it was that?" I faltered.

"Yes, my lord," he said eagerly; "but it is gone now. Can I get
anything for my lord?"

"No; not now," I said. And at last he left th