ground.

The hours passed slowly on, and at length some faint indications of
day became visible in the sky. But it was still quite dark in the
neighbourhood of the pagoda.

This was the time chosen for the sacrifice. The sleeping groups arose
as if the resurrection had arrived. The tom-toms sounded. Chants and
cries were once more heard. The sublime moment had come!

Just then the doors of the pagoda were opened, and a strong light
flashed out from the interior. The victim could be perceived being
dragged by two priests to the door. It appeared to the spectators that
the unhappy woman, having shaken off the effects of her enforced
intoxication, was endeavouring to escape from her executioners. Sir
Francis Cromarty was deeply agitated, and seizing Mr. Fogg's hand
convulsively he perceived that the hand grasped an open knife.

The crowd now began to move about. The young woman had been again
stupefied with hemp-fumes, and passed between the lines of fakirs who
escorted her, uttering wild cries as they proceeded.

Phileas Fogg and his companions followed on the outskirts of the
crowd. Two minutes later they reached the bank of the stream, and
stopped about fifty paces from the funeral pyre, upon which the corpse
was extended. In the dim religious light, they could perceive the
outline of the victim close beside her deceased husband.

A lighted torch was then quickly applied to the pile of wood, which,
saturated with oil, was instantly in a blaze. Sir Francis Cromarty and
the guide had to exert all their strength to restrain Mr. Fogg, who,
in his generous indignation, appeared about to rush upon the blazing
pile.

But just as Phileas Fogg had succeeded in throwing them off, a change
came o'er the scene. A cry of terror rose from the natives, and they
bowed themselves to the earth in indescribable terror.

The old rajah was not dead after all; there he was standing upright
upon the fiery funeral pile, clasping his young wife in his arms;
ready to leap from amid the smoke into the midst of the
horror-stricken crowd. The fakirs, the guards, the priests were all
seized with superstitious fear, and lay, faces to the earth, not
daring to lift their eyes to behold such a stupendous miracle.

The resuscitated man was thus practically quite close to the place
where Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty were standing with the
guide.

"Let us be off," exclaimed the "spectre."

It was only Passe-partout, who had, unpercei