his knees gave way under him, and he narrowly escaped falling
to the ground. Again he roused himself and started to walk.

He had not taken more than half-a-dozen steps when a hissing,
crackling sound caught his ear and he paused to listen. What could
it be? He went to the door from whence the sound proceeded. As he
did so he noticed an unmistakable smell of burning.

He rushed to the window and looked out. The sky was clear and
brilliantly illuminated with stars. Here the air was sweet and
fresh. Turning again to the door, he noticed that the smell of
burning had increased and the crackling was still going on. The
truth flashed on him suddenly!

The gaol was on fire!

"So they would roast me alive, the scoundrels!" he muttered, as he
stood hesitating as to what he should do.

[Illustration: "Pull and shake as he would, the iron seemed to
remain firm in its socket." p. 211]

Glancing first at the door, then at the window, he quickly made up
his mind as to the best course to adopt. Smoke was already
penetrating the cracks of the doorway. If he were to escape, it must
be through the window. At that instant he thought of poor old
Hakesh, and wondered what was happening to him. Where was he? Did
they intend to roast him too?

"The inhuman devils!" he cried, as these thoughts flashed through
his mind. He forgot about his own safety for the moment, as his mind
wandered to the old priest. A flash of light through the crack of
the door brought him back to his own position, and seizing the iron
bars of the window with both hands he heaved and shook at them till
the wall rocked, but they gave not an inch.

Gasping for breath, his hands sore with his terrible grip on the
iron, he paused for a moment and cast about in his mind for a new
idea. No other means of escape presented itself, so with the energy
of despair he flung himself again on the rough iron. The room was
rapidly filling with smoke, and he already found difficulty in
breathing.

Pull and shake as he would, the iron seemed to remain firm in its
socket, and he was about to cease his efforts, when he noticed that
the mud wall that held it was cracked, and hope again filled him.

Leaving the bars for a moment he picked up a narrow piece of wood
and jammed it as far as possible into the crack, then seizing the
bar with one hand, he drew himself up and, placing his feet against
the wall, pulled with all his strength. The wall opened out, and he
drove the wedge