d not
come; and she remembered from a short experience of her own what thirst
was.

The men-at-arms were all on the ramparts now, watching the leaderless
cavalry on the plain. They had even left the cell door unguarded, for it
was held shut by a heavy beam that could not be reached from the inside;
and they were all too few, even all of them together, to hold that rock
against eight hundred. It was characteristic, though, and Eastern of the
East, that they should omit to padlock the big beam. It pivoted at its
centre on a big bronze pin, and even a child could move it from the
outside; it was only from the inside that it was uncontrollable. From
inside one could have jerked at the door for a week and the big beam
would have lain still and efficient in its niche in the rock-wall; but
a little pressure underneath one end would send it swinging in an arc
until it hung bolt upright. Then the same child who had pushed it up
could have swung the teak door wide.

Rosemary, growing momentarily thirstier herself as she thought of the
probable torture of the prisoner, walked down to the spring and filled
a dipper, as she had done half a dozen times a day since she first
arrived. She had carried almost all her own and her father's water,
for Joanna was generally sleeping somewhere out of view, and no other
body-servant had been provided for her. There was a fairly big brass
pitcher by the spring. She filled it. Nobody noticed her.

Then she recalled that nobody would notice her if she were to carry the
brass pitcher in the direction of her room, for she had done that often.
She picked it up, and she reached the end of the veranda with it without
having called attention to herself. She set it down then to make quite
sure that she was unobserved.

But some movement of the cavalry on the plain below was keeping the eyes
of the garrison employed. Although a solitary lantern shone full on her,
she reached the passage leading to the prisoner's cell unseen; and she
walked on down it, making no attempt to hide or hurry, remembering that
she was acting out of mercy and had no need to be ashamed. If she were
to be discovered, then she would be, and that was all about it, except
that she would probably be able to appeal to Cunningham to save her from
unpleasant consequences. In any case, she reasoned, she would have done
good. She was quite ready to get herself and her own in trouble if by
doing it she could insure that a prisoner had wa