en folk, do ye? Well, the gyards'll shtop ye, and
send ye about yer bishness, and good-luck to ye."

But the guards did not stop her as she walked quietly up. A woman
coming to the doctor's house, that was all; and she passed between them
with her face covered, and turned off into the narrow path among the
trees leading to the servants' quarters, the men just glancing after
her, and then chewing away at their betel.

The consequence was that the next minute the woman was face to face with
Tim, who blocked the way in a surly fashion; and as they stood there in
the shadowy path, Tim's pipe bowl glowed, and the eyes seen through the
narrow slit gleamed.

"And what do you want?" said Tim, in the Malay tongue.

"Muhdra," was the reply, in a faint voice.

"She's yonder," said Tim. "I daresay you know the way."

"Show me," said the woman softly.

"Oh, bad luck to ye to want to come chattering haythen nonsense to the
cook, wid all this trouble on the way," he said angrily, in his own
tongue. Then more civilly in Malay, "Come along, then."

He led the way, and the woman followed till they had passed another
sentry, when he felt his arm gripped.

"Don't flinch--don't speak. Tim, don't you know me?"

"Masther Frank! Oh murther!"

The man staggered in his surprise as he uttered these words, but the
quick Irish wit grasped the situation directly, and he said aloud in the
Malay tongue something about its being a fine warm night, and then led
the way into the dark room he called his pantry, though it was little
more than a bamboo shed, and excitedly clasped the boy to his breast.

"Masther Frank, darlin'! Oh, Heaven be thanked for this!--Ah, ye wicked
young rip, to frighten us all as ye did."

"Hush, man, silence! Don't, Tim. Why--my face is all wet."

"Whisht! nonsense, boy. That's nawthing. Only a dhrop o' water. It's
so hot. But quick! An' good-luck to ye for a cliver one. To desave us
all like that!"

"Where is my father? He was not at home."

"Faix no; he's up-stairs. But where have ye been?"

"Don't ask questions. Are they all right?"

"Oh yes, all right; and all wrong too. There's me news, boy. The
rajah's going to marry Miss Amy, and we're all prishners."

"I thought so," whispered Frank. "But prisoners?"

"Oh yes; ye saw the gyards."

"Where is Mr Murray?"

"Shut up at home wid sax or eight min to take care of him."

"Go and tell my father I'm here. No; take me up to them at o