ealed in the palace; and they may be able to inform
us what has become of your grand-daughter."

Reginald's words seemed to restore the rajah's courage. His first care
was to examine the bodies which filled the passage, in the hope that
some might be found breathing; but in all life was extinct Reginald
urged the rajah to hurry forward, in case the rebels should return
before they had time to search the palace. They walked on through the
deserted corridors and passages, looking into the rooms as they passed,
but not a living being was to be seen. At length, as they were passing
a room the door of which was partly ajar, a groan reached Reginald's
ear; and calling to the rajah, who was going on, he entered. By the
light of the pale moon which streamed through a window, he discovered in
the further corner the form of a sepoy stretched on a mat. The blood
which had flowed from several wounds on his head and body had trickled
over the ground. The man had been apparently endeavouring to stanch
them, but had fainted before he had done so effectually. Reginald knelt
down by his side, and did his best, by means of a handkerchief which he
tore into bandages, to stop the further flow of blood. In a short time
the man returned to consciousness; and as his eye fell on the rajah his
countenance brightened up.

"Have the rebels been defeated?" he exclaimed. "I thought all was
lost."

"We wish to learn from you what has happened," said Reginald. "Numbers
of your comrades lie dead at the entrance, and the palace appears to be
deserted. We know no more."

"All that I can tell you is that we were attacked last night by Mukund
Bhim with a large band of followers; we fought desperately to defend our
post, till numbers fell killed or wounded, when the rest were carried
off as prisoners. I then, in spite of my wounds, managed to escape, the
rebels having left me for dead. They had begun to pillage the palace,
when they were summoned away to defeat an attempt of the loyal
inhabitants to keep possession of the city till the return of the rajah,
the report of whose death they refused to credit."

"And can you give me no account of my child, the Ranee Nuna?" asked the
rajah. "Have the rebels carried her off, or is she still in the
palace?"

"I know not, O Rajah," answered the wounded man. "While I lay here,
expecting every instant to be put to death, I heard the tramp of feet
through the passages, and cries and shrieks from