hat happened afterwards. The fakir had, in fact, called on the fanatics
who surrounded him, to bring combustibles for the burning of the house.
Against this Minghal vehemently protested: the king's orders were that
no houses should be fired: this would be only to assist the Feringhis.
But the fakir scoffed at orders: it was the duty of all the faithful to
destroy the infidels by any means in their power. Then Minghal used
another argument: there was valuable property in the house--his
property, his all. The fakir's answer to this was a horrible laugh, and
the taunt that Minghal had shown no disposition to go into the house and
fetch his valuable property. Minghal was overborne. Devoted adherents of
the fakir brought up shavings, pieces of wood, jars of oil. Then, waving
his arms, his long beard dripping in many-coloured drops, the fakir led
the shouting mob round to the lane at the back. Not even he cared to
face the front again.

Ahmed was descending to inform the doctor of this new move, when he
stopped suddenly. A fresh sound had caught his ear: the sound of firing,
both artillery and musketry, far away. Were the British columns renewing
their assault? Was Colonel Jones forcing his way through the city again
towards the mosque? His heart leapt with a great hope. The mutineers
were coming to fire the house: nothing could prevent them; but rather
than die like rats in a trap, he and his comrades must make a dash
through the compound, and try to cut their way towards their friends.
Suddenly he remembered the doctor. He could not take part in such a
sortie. He must not be abandoned. The idea must be given up: there was
nothing for it but to hold out to the last moment.

The roofs and windows of the surrounding houses were deserted. No doubt
their former occupants had learnt that the house was to be fired and had
joined the mob below, hoping for a share in the expected butchery and
plunder. Here was a chance of dealing the enemy a last blow. Through the
trap-door Ahmed called to the men to bring up his musket and join him.
The mob was already pouring down the lane behind the fakir--hundreds of
men in the frenzied zeal of fanaticism. They came to the garden wall and
began to swarm over it; some burst in the gate; they flocked through in
numbers too great to be checked by the fire of the ten men above. A
volley flashed; Ahmed took aim at the fakir: he and the men nearest him
fell. Those behind leapt over their prostrate bod