for
the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a
roundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached
the walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone; here there
was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.

The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon,
and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the
darkness.

It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be
accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their
pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood,
which could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had
been taken out, the rest would yield easily.

They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and
Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks so as to make an
aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a
cry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly
by other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and the guide
stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given? Common
prudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas
Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid themselves in the wood, and
waited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding
themselves ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, awkwardly
enough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there
installed themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.

It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party, thus
interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim; how,
then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout
was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage. The
tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.

"We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.

"Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.

"Stop," said Fogg. "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon."

"But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis. "In a few hours it
will be daylight, and--"

"The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment."

Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes. What was
this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a rush for
the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch
her from