When Helen Perowne came to her senses it was some minutes before she
could realise what had taken place, and she lay there motionless,
staring up at the bamboo and palm-leaf roof that looked dim, and weird,
and strange, as she saw it softly illumined by the rays of the lamp;
while there above her was one soft round patch of light glowing amidst
the darkness, and reminding her of the nights when she had been ill at
Miss Twettenhams', and a night-light had been set to burn in a shade.
"Where am I?" she asked herself: for the past seemed gone.
Then all at once she seemed to hear, coming, as it were, out of the
mental mist wherein she wandered, a dull, low, long-drawn breathing, and
she rose to her elbow, to see there, lying with his face turned to the
lamp, and not two yards away, Murad, apparently watching her, for his
eyes were widely opened and staring in her direction.
Her heart began to throb violently, and, cautiously watchful, she rose
slowly to her knees, supporting herself with her hands, as she felt how
horror-stricken and weak she was; and it was only by a great effort that
she found herself able to stand.
She was glad, however, to sit down again, to allow the sensation of
giddiness that oppressed her to pass away. And now she fully realised
the fact that the staring eyes before her, in which the light of the
lamp was strangely reflected, were fixed and blind to what passed
around, their owner being plunged in a deep stupor-like sleep.
It was some time before she could really believe this to be a fact; but
when she did realise her position it gave her courage; while, as she
tried to recall what had passed, she wondered how it had all come about.
Her common-sense soon told her that she had fainted entirely from
fright, and that her suspicion concerning the water being drugged was
ill-founded; while, on the other hand, as she gazed at Murad, her ideas
gathered force, and she fully believed that her enemy had fallen into
the trap that he had laid for his victim, and she wondered how long it
would be before he awoke.
Helen's suspicions were correct. Murad had had some little experience
in the management and usage of the vegetable narcotics of the jungle,
and believing from old experiments he had made that he could drink with
impunity the clear wine from the top of the prepared vessel, he had, to
disarm her suspicions partaken thereof, leaving the strong, thick
portion for his victim, taking care to agitate it at the time of pouring
out.
He was, however, wrong, for the narcotic he had used was a particularly
strong preparation, and the clear portion at the top of the bottle
contained ample quantity of the poison to overcome him in the fancied
moment of his triumph, leaving him prone at his prisoner's feet.
The dizziness passed off; but for a few minutes the girl felt that she
dared not stir for fear that at the least motion on her part her
persecutor might awaken; and in this spirit she remained for some time,
listening to the heavy breathing, and watching intently, as if
fascinated by the dark eyes that at times seemed gazing into hers.
At last, however, she gained a little more courage, and cautiously made
a step or two towards the door.
Then she paused and listened, and gazed at the prostrate figure,
fancying that she had detected some slight movement; but satisfying
herself at last that Murad still slept, she went once more, step by
step, her heart palpitating wildly, till she reached the door, when a
louder inspiration than usual made her turn sick with dread, and she had
to cling to the framework to keep from falling.
Finding, however, that Murad did not stir, she once more gained courage;
and rousing herself for the effort, she drew aside the heavy matting
curtain with cautious hand, tried the fastening of the door--growing
more bold moment by moment as she strove to get it open--but all in
vain. The handle would not stir, and it seemed to her that there must
be a great bar across on the outside, making prisoners of both her and
her captor.
It was not until the utter hopelessness of her effort dawned upon her
that she gave up her task and turned to the window.
Here her efforts were equally vain, for the grill was formed of stout
bamboos secured with ratan cane, bound at the intersections, and so
strong, that without a powerful edge-tool even a stout-hearted man might
well have given up the task in despair.
Helen's delicate fingers, then, failed even to shake the bars; and at
last, thrusting her arms through, she clasped her hands on the other
side, and pressed her fevered brow to one of the openings that the soft
night air might breathe upon it, and there she remained, alternately
praying for help and listening to the Rajah's heavy, stertorous breath.
A couple of hours must have passed like this, and the silence was
terrible. There was at times the hoarse roar of a tiger in the jungle,
and the Rajah now and then muttered some words in his own tongue;
otherwise there was the regular breathing of the sleeper, and the dull
thud--thud, thud--thud of the prisoner's palpitating heart.
All at once there was a sharp exclamation and an uneasy movement which
sent Helen's blood bounding through her veins.
The time of peril had arrived then; and she thrust her arms more fully
through the bamboo trellis, meaning to enlace her fingers firmly, and
cling there to the last.
It was a strong position which she had accidentally taken, and it now
dawned upon her that it would need a tremendous effort to dislodge her
from her hold.
Here, then, she clung as the uneasy movement continued, and it was not
for some time that she dared turn her head to look where, to her great
relief, she found that Murad had only slightly changed his position, and
was still sleeping heavily.
How long would this last, she asked herself, with a shiver of fear; and
then, in the reaction after the horror of a few minutes before, when she
fancied her enemy was waking, she became weak--so weak that she sobbed
hysterically, and almost hung from the bars of the window, for her legs
refused to bear her up.
But she recovered after awhile, and feeling stronger, satisfied herself
that Murad was still sleeping heavily, and then stood gazing out at the
darkness of the night.
The dense foliage made it seem blacker; but here and there the rays of a
star penetrated to where she was, and seemed like a promise of hope.
The faint perfume of flower and leaf made the soft, moist air odorous
and sweet, and there was a delicious coolness that seemed to give
strength to her enervated frame.
Every now and then came the ominous cry of some wandering tiger
following the narrow jungle paths, and at times there were strange,
mysterious sounds, evidently arising from the forest depths, and to
which she could give no name, but which sent a shudder through her
frame, as she thought that ere long she might be wandering there in the
darkness, running the risk of an attack from one or other of the fierce
beasts that haunted these shades.
But as these thoughts crossed her mind, she glanced back at where the
sleeping figure of Murad lay full in the light of the lamp, and she felt
that she would sooner risk the danger to be incurred by wandering
through the jungle than remain another hour beneath that roof.
It must, from the time that seemed to have elapsed, have been near
morning when, as she stood there with her weary head pressed against the
bamboo barn, the cry of a tiger sounded very close at hand, followed a
few minutes later by a low, rustling noise, as if the creature were
forcing its way through the dense undergrowth towards the house.
This ceased, and then went on again and again, till, forgetting the
peril that threatened her in the room, Helen strained her eyes to try
and make out the long, lithe, striped form of the advancing tiger, which
appeared to be approaching with the greatest caution the window where
she stood.
It was so unmistakably making for where she stood that Helen felt a
chill of horror run through her, thinking that sooner or later the
fierce beast would make a tremendous spring, and perhaps force its paws
through between the bars and seize her as its prey.
So horrible was the impression that once more she felt fascinated, and
gazed down with starting eyes, her enlaced fingers clutching more
tightly, and her whole being as if under the influence of a nightmare.
Then, all at once, the rustling noise ceased, and she stood listening
intently for the next approach or for the final spring.
But even if she had known that the next moment the approaching tiger
would launch itself through the air and seize her with its claws, she
could not have stirred, for it seemed to be her fate.
The silence was awful: so perfectly still seemed everything that the
breathing of Murad grew painfully loud, and the throbbing of her own
heart more pronounced.
"Is he asleep?" said a low voice just then from out of the darkness
where she stood, and Helen's heart gave a great bound; for in the voice
she recognised the tones of the Malay girl, who had that evening been
dragged from her side.
For a few moments the reaction was so great that Helen could hardly
speak; and when at last she could master her emotion, her dread was
still so great that the words would hardly come.
"Speak low!" whispered the girl; and cautiously and beneath her breath,
lest their common enemy should awake, each proceeded to make known her
position to the other.
By degrees Helen learned from the girl, who spoke in a bitter,
half-distant way, that she had been shut up in a room by herself, and
threatened with death, but that she had immediately set to work to
escape, and had succeeded by climbing up, and tearing a hole through the
palm thatch, forcing her way out, and sliding afterwards down the steep
slope, and falling pretty heavily amongst the bushes below.
She was not much hurt, however; and after lying still for a long time to
make sure that she was not heard, she had slowly forced her way through
the dense undergrowth, making a long circuit so as to approach the
window of the room where Helen was a prisoner without exciting
attention.
"You must speak lower," she said, "or he will wake;" and then Helen told
her of the drugged wine--or, rather, of her suspicions that the wine was
drugged.
"And he drank it!" cried the girl, excitedly. "Ah, then, that is
right," and her whole manner changed. "He will not wake up till long
after sunrise. I know what that poison will do. I drank of it when I
was first brought here, and I slept for one whole day. We need not be
afraid of him then, but we must mind not to waken the other people
near."
She ceased speaking, and Helen heard a loud rustling and panting noise,
and a few minutes later a dark face rose to a level with hers, and she
clasped the Malay girl towards her and began to sob.
The girl kissed her through the bars, there being just space enough for
their faces to approach, and then, with an eager look at the sleeping
figure, she whispered that it was time to act.
"But what shall we do--what can we do?" whispered Helen.
"You said you wanted to leave him, and that you would take me back with
you to your own people. Will you do so now?"
"Oh, yes, yes," whispered Helen, excitedly; "make haste and let us go!"
"But are you sure that you wish to leave him?" said the girl, dubiously.
"Oh, yes--yes--yes!" cried Helen, so eagerly that the girl uttered a
warning "hush," and then apparently satisfied, bade her be still while
she tried to make a way to her.
For answer Helen stood listening, while the girl seemed to climb upwards
and sidewise, standing with her feet resting upon the bars of the open
window; and for some time there was a low tearing and rustling noise, as
if an effort was being made to cut through the bamboo and cane-woven
wall.
This went on for some time and then ceased, to Helen's great relief, for
Murad had several times moved uneasily, and it seemed to her that the
noise had awakened him.
There was a slight rustling then, and the Malay girl came back to her
former position.
"I cannot do it," she whispered. "It would take strong men with
parangs, and I am only a weak girl with a kris."
"Can we not escape, then?" panted Helen, whose heart sank.
"Yes; but not that way. It must be through the roof, for the attap is
only soft and the strings thin. I think I can manage to cut through
there."
As her words left her lips they both clung there as if paralysed, for,
uttering a hoarse gasp, Murad struggled to his feet and staggered
towards them with an angry cry.