at
he knocked his head against its roof in the darkness. But some few paces
in front of him he saw a thin line of light across the floor. He
stealthily approached; there was a door. He heard voices, but could not
distinguish words. Was the door fastened? He pushed it gently--it
yielded.

"If I could but be sure she was safe!" he heard a low voice say.

"Without doubt she is safe, sahib," was the reply. The voice was the
khansaman's. Ahmed thrilled. The khansaman was faithful after all. He
had his old master here in hiding. Who would have suspected so unlikely
a place? And he was trying to cheer the doctor's despondency as to the
fate of his daughter. Clearly he had not told him what Ahmed had said of
the capture of the English girl by a zamindar.

"You have no news of her?" said the first voice.

"None, sahib; but that is not strange. The missy sahib would fear to
send a messenger, lest he should betray your presence. And it is harder
now than it was for folk to go in and out of the city. This very day the
order has gone forth that none shall enter or depart without a written
word. A man--his name is Gordohan Dass, and he lives at Lattu--was going
out at the Delhi gate this morning in a shigram, and the guard stopped
him and searched his cart, and there they found cartridges and bullets.
They were but for his own protection, he declared. Nevertheless they
beat him, and took his cart and all that was in it, and sent him to the
Kotwali. There is little hope of news until the sahibs come and take the
city."

"Will that ever be? What are they doing? Will they never begin the
assault?"

"In Allah's good time, sahib. They are waiting on the Ridge; none can
move them. Why they wait so long who can tell? The people say in the
city that they are but five hundred now; that the colonels eat grain
like their horses; that three generals have killed themselves before
their troops for shame. But it cannot be true, sahib, for else why do
the sepoys always come back discomfited? No; Allah is great, and the
sahibs will yet come and punish the evil-doers, and then all will be
well."

"But it is so long! How long is it since you found me in the street, and
brought me here?"

"Two moons and more, sahib."

"Two months! And we have heard nothing all that time of Mary. I must go,
Kaluja. In this dress none would recognize me; I can pass as one of
their own hakims. You must help me to escape from the city."

"Nay, sahib; it is not