Murad took a step towards the girl, and whispered something which Helen
could not catch.
Then, turning sharply round, he dashed the curtain aside, swung open the
door, and passing through, they heard the heavy bang as the curtain
waved to and fro, when Helen's defender sank trembling to her knees, her
eyes closed, and the little weapon with which, but a minute before, she
was ready to menace the Rajah's life, fell with a musical tinkle upon
the floor.
The noise startled her, and she opened her eyes to gaze piteously at the
fallen curtain, and ended by bursting into a passionate fit of weeping.
Helen let her hands fall upon the Malay girl's shoulder, eager to speak
her thanks, but hesitating, as she felt that it would be better to let
the outbreak have its course.
In this spirit she waited quite patiently, listening eagerly though for
the slightest sound without that should betoken the Rajah's return; but
all remained silent till suddenly the girl rose and turned upon her
angrily.
"Why did you come?" she cried; "he loved me before he saw you. Go: you
make me hate you, and I shall kill you for it if you stay."
For the moment Helen felt angry. At such a time the girl's want of
reason was irritating; but seeing that she was almost beside herself
with jealous grief, she advanced and laid a hand upon the weeping girl's
arm.
"You know I hate him," she said gently, "and that I would give the world
to get away."
"Yes, yes, yes, I know," sobbed the girl; and her anger gave place to a
most effusive display of affection. "Yes, I know, but it is so hard to
bear. He used at one time to love me so well, and now he is quite
changed for the sake of you. Why do you not go?"
"Will you show me the way?" cried Helen, eagerly.
"The way?" said the girl.
"Yes; how to escape--to get back to my own people."
"Do you really want to go back?" said the girl, looking at her
searchingly.
"Yes, yes; oh yes," was the reply. "I'll give you anything to help me
away. You shall be made rich, and I will care for you and love you like
a sister, only save me from this man."
The girl fixed her great dark eyes upon Helen's, and seemed to be trying
to read her thoughts.
"It is very strange!" she said at last.
"What is strange? That I should ask you to save me?"
"No," said the girl, dreamily; "that anyone should be able to hate
Murad. He has been cruel to me, but I could never hate him, even though
others have talked to me and tried to get my love. Hamet has loved me,
he tells me, and that he is unhappy because I am cold; but I could never
hate Murad, and the more cruel he is to me, the more he seems to have my
love."
"But it troubles you that he should make love to me?"
"Yes," hissed the girl, fiercely. "It makes me mad."
"Then help me to escape; help me to get away," cried Helen, clinging to
her passionately.
"And if I do he will kill me," sighed the girl.
"Then do not stay here," whispered Helen, glancing suspiciously at the
great curtain, which seemed to wave to and fro, and moved as though some
one were listening close behind.
"Do not stay?" said the girl, wonderingly.
"No. Let us escape together."
"But to leave Murad?"
"He does not love you now."
"But Hamet does; he would grieve. They would follow and kill me."
"No, no. You shall not be harmed," said Helen, excitedly. "I will
protect you. You shall live with me."
"No," said the girl, sadly, "I could not go away and leave Murad. He is
cruel to me, but I cannot be cruel to him. He would want me if I was
gone."
"But you say he would kill you if you stayed?"
"Yes," sighed the girl. "He would kill me for helping you to escape if
he found me out."
"Then come with me and let my people protect you," whispered Helen,
excitedly. "Why should you stay here when I can give you a happier and
better home?"
"Happier! better!" said the girl. "No; there is no life for me that
could be happier when he is kind. There can be no better place than
this."
Helen passed her arm round her, for there was something beautiful in the
girl's faith and love for the tyrant who abused her affection at every
turn; and the girl, feeling the unusual caress, turned to her lovingly.
"Tell me once again," she said, "that you really mean it--that you would
be glad to go," and she looked searchingly in Helen's eyes.
"I would sooner die than stay," cried Helen, who had to repeat her words
twice before she could make herself understood.
"Then let me think," said the girl, quietly; "let me think how it can be
done, for we should like to live and be happy once again."
"As we shall be, if you help me to escape and come with me and share my
home. Let us steal down to a boat as soon as it is dark, and then we
can soon reach the great river by floating with the stream."
The girl smiled sadly.
"You forget," she said, "Murad's people will watch us, for we are
prisoners now."
There was no doubt about this being the case, for door and window were
securely fastened, as the girl showed with a smile, becoming very
thoughtful directly after, and making impatient gestures every time
Helen tried to draw her into conversation.
And so the day wore on, with the prisoner's heart sinking as she saw the
approach of night.
It was just at the time when her spirits were at their lowest ebb that
the girl turned to her suddenly and caught her by the arm.
"I have been thinking," she said, "and you shall go free."
She spoke in her own tongue, and Helen had great difficulty in
comprehending her, but the peril sharpened her understanding; and by
making the girl repeat her words, she arrived at a pretty correct
interpretation.
"And you will go with me?" whispered Helen, eagerly.
"A little while ago I felt that I could never leave Murad; but he is
cruel, and he loves me no longer now. I will go."
Helen's heart throbbed with joy, as she caught the girl to her breast
and kissed her passionately, loosing her though directly, for the door
was suddenly opened, and they saw a group of four women standing there,
evidently bearing food.
"Come and fetch it," said one of them to Helen's companion, for they did
not attempt to enter the room.
The girl left Helen and went to the door, to return, bringing the
materials for a respectable meal, returning again for water and palm
wine, with vessels for drinking, and once more returning for the fruit
that the women produced.
Helen was watching their movements intently and suspiciously, she hardly
knew why, when suddenly, as the girl was taking a bunch of plantains
from one of the women, another threw her arms round her neck and clasped
her tightly, with the result that the others seized her as well; there
was a slight struggle, the door was slammed to, and as Helen ran to it
with throbbing heart, she heard the noise of renewed struggling, the
excited angry cries of her poor companion, and these seemed to be dying
away for a time, and then to suddenly end as if they had been stifled.
Helen Perowne was brave enough in her way; but the sounds of this
struggle, the cries, and their sudden ending, coupled with the threats
lately uttered by Murad, made her shudder as she turned, wet with the
cold perspiration that gathered upon her face.
What did it mean--that sudden silence? Had they suffocated the poor
girl, or had they slain her by some more sudden and deadly stroke?
Helen tried hard to maintain her composure; but her dread increased, and
she tottered back to the mats that served her for a couch, to sink down,
trembling in every limb.
It was a terrible ordeal, and the more she realised the horrors of her
position the more deeply she regretted her conduct to Murad.
For evidently beneath his thin veneer of European manners the Rajah was
a remorseless Eastern tyrant, ready to do anything--to sacrifice
anything to obtain his wishes.
Unknowingly, or rather carelessly, and with her customary indifference,
she had made this man her determined pursuer; and as she thought this,
she turned faint, feeling that her position was hopeless in the extreme;
and for the moment she felt as if she would go mad.
A violent flood of tears relieved her overburdened brain, and at last
she sat up, thinking of her chances of escape, and wondering whether she
had let her imagination run riot, and the girl was after all only in a
fresh place of confinement.
She decided to take this hopeful view of the case; and feeling better,
her eyes lit upon the food that had been brought in, and of which she
partook, not so much from choice as from a belief in its being necessary
for her strength, which she feared might fail her at any time, perhaps
in the direst moment of her need.
Seating herself, then, beside the food, she was trying to eat, when the
door was again opened, and one of the women entered quietly, bearing a
lighted English lamp.
Helen eagerly questioned her respecting her late companion; but the
woman either did not or professed not to understand, merely placing the
tall lamp upon a mat on the floor, and hurrying away, seeming as it were
to disappear in the gloom on the other side of the lamp, and directly
after she heard the door close.
She sat listening, but all was very still. The sun had sunk, and the
darkness was coming on so rapidly that she felt thankful for the lamp;
and then she turned longingly towards the water and wine that had been
brought to her, but which she shrank from touching lest they should
happen to contain some drug.
Her thirst seemed to increase at the very sight of the drinking-vessels;
and the more she tried wrench away her eyes, the more they sought the
large native bottles and cups.
"I cannot bear it!" she panted at last, and bending down, she took the
vessel containing the water, poured some out, and after tasting it
suspiciously, with her throat growing parched with intense longing, she
felt satisfied that the water was pure, and drank a long and hearty
draught.
She set the cup down with a sigh of pleasure; and then her blood ran
cold, for her sigh seemed to be echoed from out of the gloom near the
door.
Murad was standing there, leaning against the doorpost, and it was
evident to her now that he had entered when the woman brought in the
lamp, and that he had been watching her ever since.