ars of the unhappy
prisoners, had an extraordinary effect. There was dead silence in the
shed: it seemed that every man was afraid to speak. Then one of the
Marathas said in a whisper:

"What do you mean, sahib?"

"What do I mean? Surely it must be clear to any man. Have we not sat long
enough on the carpet of patience?"

Again the silence remained for a space unbroken.

"You, Gulam Mahomed," continued Desmond, addressing one of the Biluchis
whom he considered the boldest--"have you never thought of escape?"

"Allah knows!" said the man in an undertone. "But He knows that I
remember what happened a year ago. Fuzl Khan can tell the sahib something
about that."

A fierce cry broke from the Gujarati, who had been moaning under his
charpoy in anguish from the lashings he had undergone that day. Desmond
heard him spring up; but if he had meant to attack the Biluchi, the
clashing of his fetters reminded him of his helplessness. He cursed the
man, demanding what he meant.

"Nothing," returned Gulam Mahomed. "But you were the only man, Allah
knows, who escaped the executioner."

"Pig, and son of a pig!" cried Fuzl Khan, "I knew nothing of the plot. If
any man says I did he lies. They did it without me; some evil jin must
have heard their whisperings. They failed. They were swine of Canarese."

"Do not let us quarrel," said Desmond. "We are all brothers in
misfortune; we ought to be as close knit as the strands of a rope. Here
is our brother Fuzl Khan, the only man of his gang who did not try to
escape, and see how he is treated! Could he be worse misused? Would not
death be a boon?

"Is it not so, Fuzl Khan?"

The Gujarati assented with a passionate cry.

"As for the rest of us, it is only a matter of time. I am the youngest of
you, and not the hardest worked, yet I feel that the strain of our toil
is wearing me out. What must it be with you? You are dying slowly. If we
make an attempt to escape and fail we shall die quickly, that is all the
difference. What is to be is written, is it not so, Shaik Abdullah?"

"Even so, sahib," replied the second Biluchi, "it is written. Who can
escape his fate?"

"And what do you say, Surendra Nath?"

"The key, sahib," whispered the Babu in English; "what of the key?"

"Speak in Urdu, Babu," said Desmond quickly. "Don't agree at once."

Surendra Nath was quick witted; he perceived that Desmond did not wish
the others to suspect that there had been any confidences be