Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, October 14, 1899, Page 3

avertety it — 1 i CHAPTER XXII—(Continued.) And Samid, drawing his dagger, ad- vanced toward Kazil. he child made no movement, but cried out: “Help! help!” “Will you be quiet?” Samid, in fierce tones. “Help!” louder cried the boy. “Well, die, then!’ and the man struck Kazil, who, uttering a groan, fell senseles: In the interior of the bungalow, voices were heard and the noise of opening doors. “He has given the claimed Samid. “They come! gem is frustrated. Battle, hasten to give the signal. prove the stronger!” And in the instant that George, re- volver in hand, burst impetuously into the room, accompanied by Edward and Dieudonne, and followed by Stop, car- he leaped upon the ver- command id alarm!” x Strata- then. I We will and wretch!” ed George, “Samid, his skull pierced, fell upon the floor of the balcony. “I have killed the bandit!” exclaimed George. tice is done!” tant Edward stumbled body. “My God!” he cried, bending over it and perceiving that it lacked con- 5 “A child—wounded, dying, perhaps dead!” “Dend! Ah, poor little Hindoo!” said Stop, with a’ grieved look. “It is he who forewarned me. It is he who gave the alarm. ‘To punish him, they have wurdered him!” George, in his turn, leaned over the child, murmuring: “It is Kazil. He has fainted. His blood flow but perhaps he is not mortally hurt. Perhaps we may yet save him. Look, doctor!” Dieudonne hastened to conform to Ge wishes. “You are deeply interested in this strange boy,” he said, “spite of his con- duct. You remember the false witness against you in Lord Singleton’s pres- enc “LT know; but what would you have? I am interested, spite of all. Tell me quickly, then, dear doctor. Is he liv- ing or dead?” “He has only swooned. The loss of blood has caused faintne “His wounds’ “Are of the lightest character. See, nt of the d. r has deviated, tal crgan is tuched, and the flesh will scon h To expt nl,” © the wound upon the shoul- mne had partly torn the i's garment. Two or s still held it. One move- »ke them, and the sleeve fell ment bi open, leaving the arm uncovered. “Look!” he cried, “look at these char- acters impressed in the flesh, which form a name!” “The name of Bowhanie, “Oh, I recognize it.” George replied. “The name of Bowhanie, the same as on the cag ger drawn from my father’s heart. And this child bore false witness against me two hours ago. Can this be the accomplice of the assassins? Can he be the assassin himself?” “Who know: muttered the physi- cian, shaking his head. “In this coun- try, nothing could surprise me.” While they exchanged these werds, little by little, Kazil returned to con- sciousness. He had heard George Mal- colm’s last words, and Dieudonne’s re- sponse. “No, no, master!” he stammered, in an alniost indistinct voice. “Do not accuse me, My hands are not stained with blood. I have mourned Sir John. I loved him. I would aid to avenge him. Believe me, master, I will some time tell you all. Now you must save the young girls.” said Ed- “Saye them?’ cried George. “They are threatened?” “They are lost if you tarry. The vagers surround the bungalow!” “The ravagers?” repeated our hero, stupefied. for he had thought Samid’s attack directed only: against- himself. “The sons of Bowhanie,” answered Kazil. ‘The brothers of the work! he slayers of the English! They sur- round us. There are there, near us, climbing in the darkness and in the shadows. Take care—master, take care!” “The slayers of the English!” cried George, with an expression of savage triumph. “Ah, I have at last a trail, and I will not let it escape. Edward, Dieudonne, hasten to the girls’ cham- ber, ard bring them here. We will watch over them. Go, go!” The two men hurried from the room, Stop following them. Hardly had they left the salon when George, bending over Kazil, whispered: “My child, do you hear me?” “Yes,” sighed the boy. “Can you speak?” “Yes.” “rhis morning, at Lord Singleton’s, when I depended upon you to justify me from an infamous accusation, you lied?” “It ig true.” “You wished to ruin me?” “Ruin you? Oh, no, no!” “You acted with me as an enemy. You hate me, then?” “Hate you? No, I love you.” “You love me? How can I believe you, since you accuse yourself? What was your inotive?” “I must obey or die. “Whom?” “Bowhanie’s sons.” “My father’s assassins—is it not so?” “Yes; the brothers of the terrible work! Everywhere invisible—every- where present! They envelop you in 2 le of daggers. They would kill you, aster. Take care, I tell you—take care!” “But who, ,then, has sent these wretches here? What new crime would they accomplish? Why have they struck at you?” The child did not answer. The blood from his wound flowed afresh. His weakness grew. “I die!” he murmured, and fell un- conscious to the floor. George made a gesture of discourage- ment, and, bending over the young Hindoo, entreated him in supplicating tones, as if the inanimate body might unde nd: “Kazil, in heaven’s name be strong! be courageous! I need that you should live! I need your testimony! O, God!” he cried, “he does not hear! he does not answer me!” And he ealled anew, “Kazil! Kazil!” Then, wringing his hands in despair, he murmured: “So near the goal. yet not to attain it! Yet my cause is sacred. O, God, wi for me a miracle!” Kneeling beside the child, he again entreated anew: “Listen to me! Answer me!” But, suddenly, the expression of an- guish changed. His eyes became fixed, and a shudder made his hands trem- ble. Within the heuse he had heard a pis- tol shot. At a second shot he sprang to his feet, when the door opened vio- lently, and Edward precipitated him- self into the room. He was. pale and terror-stricken. Dieudenne and Stop, in greatest disor- der, followed him. “Misfortune! misfortune!’ cried Edward, giving his brother no time to qu ion him, To George, it seemed as if a red-hot steel penetrated his heart. Agnes? Hera?’ he asked, in a suf- ated voice. “Gone!” said Edward, answering by gesture rather than by speech. CHAPTER XXII. The expression on George Malcolm's face became terrifying. For the mo- ment he almost lost his reason, then his will reasserted ‘itself. He passed both hands across his brow, as if to drive away a fever, and said, with re- I obeyed.” fo turning calm: “We must pursue the ravagers! We nust overtake them or die!” “Tho wretches hem us in!’ cried Dieudonne. “And the bungalow is on fire!’ mut- tered Stop, with a shudder of fright. And, in truth, red and intermittent lights—the torches of the incendiaries wio applied them—began to iliumin- ate the salon, The ing of the dry weed could be heard, and clouds of smoke, followed by whirlwinds of floated before the windows. answered George. “What it? We will go through the and trample upon the bodies of the bandit At this instant several rifle shots sounded from without, and five or six balls penetrated the hangings of the room. “AL! murmured Stop, “we are lost! If the flames expose us we shall not escape the bullets, and if they do not reach us the flames will devour us. We have our choice between two deaths. That is Hindoo politeness. | What a country—what a country!” ’ A new discharge was fired. ‘Let us respond!” cried George, “and if safety impossible, let us at least sell our lives dearly.” And drawing near the window, he: fired his revolver, almest at hazard, since the thick clouds of smoke con- cealed from him his assailants. A cry of ageny told him that his ball had not; wandered. Stop, Edward and Dieu- donne followed his exampie. ‘Lhe flames and smoke, however, gained rapidly. There was indisputa- ble evidence that, in a few moments, the bungolow would be an immense furnace. “Shall we perish here?” asked Dieu- donne, who stcod bravely in face of ! this frightful peril. “No!” answered George. “We will attempt a sortie, and, God, aiding us, we will open a.passage in the midst of | these bandit: For the second time, Kazil now re- turned to consciousness, and, lifting himself up, he called, in a weak voice: | “Master!” yeorge heard and apporached him. “Living—you are living?’ he cried. i “Yes,” answered the boy, “for your} vengeance. hey wished to kill me. They have thus released me from my oath. I owe them nothing more. I be- long no longer to them. I am yours, I will expose their secrets. I will make you their master.” “Their master!” amazed. “Yes,” “You can do that?” “T can do it.” . “snd Agnes and Hera—can you re- store them to us?” “We will find them—I swear it. Take me. I will lead you.” “Where?” “To the Temple of Bowhanie—to the sanctuary of the veiled goddess.” “Let us go,” said George, lifting Ka- zil in his arms. Then, turning toward the others, he added: “Let us fly. God will protect us now, for now we must avenge two wrongs!” And, leading the little group, he ad- vanced toward the grand staircase which led to the ground floor. De- scending this, groans and cries were repeated George, heard issuing from a room leading into the kitchen. They were uttered by Scindia and the other servants of the bungalow, who looked upon theim- selves as lost. George reassured them as best he could. “We are about to fire on our assail- ants,” he said. “Profit by the moment of confusion this will cause to follow us, and scatter yourselves among the trees and the. protection of the dark- ness.” “By which door shall we go out?” asked Edward. “By this one,” answered George, in- dicating that nearest them. But, as he was-about to throw it open, Stop, breaking through his usual reserve, uttered a cry, slapped his brow, seized Edward by the arm and detained him. A “Do not hasten, I beg your honor!” he exclaimed. “An idea has just come to me. I believe that within ten min- utes we shall be beyond danger, and those wicked Hindocs will see only their own fire.” ‘These words revived hope in every breast. “Explain yourself, my good Stop,” said George. “What is your idea?’ “It is this, your honor. If we go out the door we shall very likely receive harge of lead not wholly welcome. We must, therefore, render ourselves momentarily invisible and inyulner- able. To do this, we must follow the fashion of field mice and moles, and burrow in the earth, to emerge, safe and sound a little further on.” “Yes; that would be perfect!” cried George; “but in this case, it is not common sense. We have not time to create this subterraneous passage.” “But the passage already exists. I riade the discovery the other day, while foraging in the cellars. No one knows it. It is an accident that I should be so curious.” “Where does it come out?” “At the small, round, thatched cot- tage at the end of the garden, they call the ice-house. I do not know why, since this infernal country produces no jee.” . “My brave Stop!” he cried, “do you know that you save us?” Gecrge Malcolm pressed the hand of his faithful servant. “Ah, yes, your honor, I know it! Follow me. if you please. I will lead the way. Your honor will pardon me if 1 pass first.” In a few moments Stop’s prophecy wes proven correct. The passage in question had been built leading to the ice-house by the former proprietor of the bungalow, who, more epicurean in his tastes than Sir John Malcolm, had kept it stored with ice brought from the mountains at great cost, and ap- proached in this way to prevent its being melted by the intense heat. A few minutes sufficed for the little group to emerge in the now empty building. The door was fastened and without a key, but that afforded no obstacle. Setting his shoulder against it, George burst it open. The fugitives were free under the starry sky. From the depths of the shadow- which pro- tected them, they saw the fire glow, and all around the bungalow, whose walls were nearly ready to fall in, they could distinguish human forms. They w the Hindoos, musket in hand, motionless, watchful, waiting to fire upon the Europeans who should en- deavor to escape from the flames. “God will protect us!” murinured Gecrge. “His powerful hand wiil al- so sustain Agnes and Her; nd de- fend them from all peril.” hen, ad- ay ing himself to Edward and D'eu- donne, he added: “We must separate here. to the governor and inform him of all that has passed, and there wait news from me. I will endeavor to make ur Waiting short.” Rapid adieux were exchanged as the friends parted and disappeared in the darkness, George still carrying Kazil and Stop following clese behind. We must here turn for a moment to the temple of the most monstrous and mest terrible of Hindoo divinities, the goddess Rowhanie. The temple was dark. At its central point uprose a monument of red marble, a sort of pa- godain embro, surmounted by a dome of polished steel, and resting on a ped- estal formed of several steps. This monument had but one door of bronze, barred with iron, and always closed. A cireular grating, equally inaccessi- ble, surrounded it. It appeared im- pessible to approach this grating, for : large, yawning abyss, in whose dizzy depths might be heard surging, subter- ranean waters, encompassed it on all sides, and isolated it almost absolutely. In the open space which served as margin to the abyss, on the side oppo- site the mysterious monument, pass- ages diverged as numberless as the cells in a honeycomb. Some of these were shut off by massive gratings. Others were protected only by hang- ings of purple stuff, embroidered in fantastic forms and _ diabolical signs.. Above the cupola of steel float- ed a silken banner, bearing the figure of a many-beaded dragon in gold; nu- merous lamps hung from the arches, and, veiled with long folds of crepe burned night and. day in the temple, and at night—as did the scarlet glass , of the windows during the day—spread throughout the atmosphere a blood-red light. In this moment, when we profane the sacred threshold, several priestesses, enveloped from head to foot in long, red, and half-transparent veils, were prostrated about the abyss, which di- vided the rest of the temple from the monument. Jubbee, the chief priestess, stood in the midst of her companions, towering above them all with her su- perior height. She extended her right hand in sign of command, and said, in a deep voice: “Priestesses of Bowhanie, listen tu me!’ “We listen,” murmured the submiss- ive voices. “Tne hour of prayer has come.” “We are ready.” “Pray, then, and may the goddess listen.” One voice uprose, followed by anoth. er and another, as in the Catholie lit- any, in which each pronounced a yerse. “Goddess of Evil!” began the first. “Goddéss of Vengeance!” continued the second. “Goddess of Blood!” said the third. “Protectress of the Phansigars and the Thugs!” chimed in the fourth. ‘The voice of Jubbee concluded: “Hear our vows and repulse not them, nor thy children. Permit them to strike deep and often, and under their tireless hands let fresh blood flow!” 2 The terrible prayer was about to con- tine. when an unexpected noise made itself heard. A gong struck in the cen- ter of the temple. “Silence!” commanded Jubbee. us listen.” The gong again sounded. The chief priestess bowed her head. “You have heard the gong?” she said, “The sacred gong, whose mysterious voice, twice repeated, announces to us that the masters of the first degres cross the threshold of the temple. We must leave free to them the entrance into the sanctuary, as the goddess com- mands. Let us separate, my sisters, witheut one backward glance.” She took from her belt a key, and with it opened the grating that shut off one of the passages. The priestesses arose, and, bowing before the monument. passed, one af- ter another around Jubbee, and slowly went out. She followed last, closing after her the grating. The pagoda became solitary, and for a few minutes a profound silence rest- ed in its vaulted depths. Suddenly, one of the hangings was lifted, a pale head cautiously peered through, until the child, Kazil, still tot- tering with weakness, was fully re- vealed. “Come,” he said, turning “come, we are alone!” George Malcolm and Stop, in their turn, emerged from the dark passage. “Let us hasten, master,” resumed Kazil; “but be prudent. Here the dan- ger is immense, and presents itself un- der a thousand forms. On every si in these numberless galleries, the Brah- mins watch, relieved from hour to hour by those who guard the relics of Bowhanie. Let one of these give the alarm, and our ruin would be immedi- ate and inevitable. The priest Bowhanie watch day and nigh temple, but, unless the sacred gong had driven them away, I do not know tow we could have penetrated here. *The sacred gong, you say?’ said George, “what does it announce?” “The arrival of the chiefs, the initi- ated, the masters.” Gecrge shivered. “Child,” he continued, “who has un- folded to you the secrets of these un- known races? Who has revealed to you the mysteries of this temple?” “ave T pot already told you?” “Never.” “Well, from my infancy, I have beer consecrated to the goddess. I have grown up among the priestesses in the sacred heart of the temple. This is why, master, I understand so well its hidden places.” “Kazil,” murmured George, “you well knciy that I have great confidence in you, yet once you have betrayed “Let around— The child hung his head in silence, He felt himself crushed by the weight of this reproach. “Have I not to-night to fear a trap?” George asked. The boy lifted his head and let his eyes fearlessly meet his master’s. “Here is my hand,” he si “Take it. Do not let it go as long we re- main in this temple. You are armed! If I have lied, kill me! I shall not complain!’ Something in the manner in which these werds were pronounced sealed them with such frankness that it was impossible longer to pr rve the shad- ow of doubt. “Let us go en,” he said. you.” “And I, also,” added Stop. “Why, 1 do not know, but I am full ef co: dence in this little Hindoo.” Kazil thanked the valet by a grateful glance, then listened attentively. “Steps sounded on the flags,” he mur- mured. “The echoes of the gallery re- peat the sound. The chiefs approach, Let us enter kere.” And he indicated, by a gesture, a neighboring passage, hidden by a fioat- ing drapery. “Put,” cautioned George, ‘if they come by that we shall be certainly sur- prised.” “There is nothing to fear,” replied the child. “This dark gallery has no outlet.” The noise drew nearer, “Enter quickly!” cried Kazil, lifting the hanging, “and not a movement, nut a word! Hold your breath. Let us prevent, if possible, the beating of our hearts. Come, come, come!” George and Stop followed the boy, but just as the curtain fell upon them, the valet could not resist murmuring: “Ah! by St. Dustan! it was time to disiippear!” For, with the utterance of these words, the key turned in the grating, and a little group of a dozen natives emerged into the sanctuary, The faces of all these newcomers were hidden by long veils, with open- ings for the eyes, as in a mask. Among them was one woman, Three of these nocturnal visitors are known to us. They were the Princess Djella, the Rajah Doorgal Sahib and the Fakir Souniancy. The names of the others do not interest us, After haying passed the grating, Dc orgal stopped and threw about him a menacing glance. “I thought I heard voices,” he said, with vague uneasiness. “Those of the priestesses, who have abandoned the sanctuary to us,” an- swered the princess, After prostrating themselves before the monument, the princess again spoke: “Brothers,” she said, “the work is “I believe about to be accomplished. The mine, slowly dug for us by so many years, will explode in two days.” “Already?” murmured the Hindoos, in joyful astonishment. “We are ready,” she continued, “and you shall soon haye the proof.” “What must be done?” asked Door- gal. The princess’ response was an order, “Give the signal,” she said, “to the Fakir Souniancy.” “In what fashion?” - “The usual one.” “With the sacred gongs?” “Yes. Let them ring under these mysterious arches, of which the pago- da is the center.” The pagoda was floored with slabs of red, white and black marble, form- ing irregular designs. The fakir pressed his foot on one of these slabs of red. It yielded to the pressure, and a most singular effect was produced. A gong began to sound afar off, then two, then ten, then an indefinite num- ber in every direction, near and far, some ringing and sonorous, others veiled by subterranean depths, or weakened by vast distances. This lasted several seconds, then al ihe gongs at once were hushed and were succeeded by the deepest and most mysterious silence. “Our brothers are warned,” mur- mured the princess. “In an instant they will be with us.” CHAPTER XXIv. Five minutes later, and through the gratings, opened by magic keys, roured a great number of Brahmins, brothers of the work and priestesses of Bowhanie. At the head of these latter was Jubbee. She walked directly to the little group of veiled figures, and, bowing before them, asked: “What chief of the terrible work has inade resound the sacred gongs?” Djella advanced two steps, and an- swered: “St is 1.” “Who are you?” s “The Queen.” Doubtless these words sufficed for recognition, for Jubbee prostrated her- self for her, and lifting the hem of her robe, pressed it to her lips. “What are the wishes of the best- ioved daughter of the goddess?” asked Jubbee. “In the moment of the completion ot the holy work begun by our fathers,” answered Djella, “I wish to prove to the chiefs that Bowhanie always pro- tects her children.” “And this proof?” asked “How shall we give it to them “In showing them that the mysteri- ous gifts which constitute our power have not left the sactuary.” The chief priestess extended her hand toward the monument ef red marble, separated from the visitors by the abyss. “Queen,” she said, slowly, as if giv- ing those who listened time to weigh her words, “the sanctuary is there be- fore our eyes. A gulf encompasses it, at whese bottom, over sharp-pointea rocks, flow the sacred waters of the Ganges. Night and day succeed each other. Our eyés never clcs The gifts committed to our care never will leave the sanctuary until the day predicted by cur prophets.” “This day—what is it?’ questioncd Djella. “That cn which Bowh: ubbee. nie, for he upon the man chosen by her to repre- sent her upon earth.” “When will it dawn?” “To-morrow, or in a thousand years. The goddess alone can say.” “The Priestess Jubbee, we well know,” continued the princess, “is werthy guardian of this sacred | cliargez’ “I do my duty,” answered Jubbee; “but it is an easy task. Frightful and inevitable death awaits the sacrilegi- ous one who would violate the sanctu- ary. The yawning abyss is not the only danger which the pagoda con- ceals.” ‘The others—what are they Jubbee indicated the slab of red mar- ble which the fakir touched. “If the foot of the imprudent press this flag,” she continued, ’*the gongs of alarm sound everywhere, calling us. If he touch this one,” designating anoth- er cf black marble net far from the first, “the ground slips from under him and he gli into the abyss. The oth- er conce the poisoned blades. Ev- where dire punishment, almost pre- venting the thought of crime, and ren- ccring its accomplishment impossible.” ible!” murmured Djella, is true. Oh, the relics are well guarded!” repeated the priestess, enthusiastically. “India may sleep in peace under the shield of its talis- mans.” ' ‘Let the priestess of Bowhanie show us the sacred arsenal,” said Djella, af- ter a minute’s pause. “The queen so orders?” “Yes? “1 am ready.” “We wait.” On the edge of the abyss was a stat- ue of black marble—some Hindoo di- having three heads of a dog on the body of a horse. Jubbee took one of these heads, the middle one, and slow- ly turned it about. At the same time a Brahmin, obeying a sign, touched the spring hidden at the base of the statue. The effect was instantaneous. The grating surrounding the monument opened without producing the slight- est noise. The bronze door lowered it- self, and formed a suspended bridge over the gulf. Jubbee, with a firm step, crossed the bridge, and reached the monument, whose entrance was hidden by a sec- ond interior door. She turned. , “Prostrate yourselves!” she com- manded. “In the name of the god- dess, prostrate yourselves!” All the witnesses of this scene fell upon their knees. Jubbee then touched a spring. The second door flew open, and the interior of the sanctuary ap- peared, illuminated by a warm and singujar splendor. 4 In its center, on a pedestal of rose granite, reposed the statue of Bowhan- ie, entirely concealed by the folds of a veil the color of fire and starred in figures of gold. Silence profound and absolute reigned in the temple. Naught could be hearé save half-drawn breathings and beat- ing hearts. Superstitious terror seized upon all. Djella was the first to lift her head. At sight of the resplendent sanctuary, an enthusiastic exclamation escaped her lips. “Brothers of the sacred work,” she said, “see! The veil of the goddess is our palladium!” “Children of Bowhanie!’ exhorted the chief priestess, “the chosen of the goddess alone may touch this veil with- out instant annihilation. Beneath it glitters the ring. The talismans have been well guarded. You may begin the struggle. She frem whom you gather strength and who gives victory, protects you and walks beside you, dia’s glory, will put the veil and ring thanks,” murmured the fakir, vinity—representing a strange animal, She cries to you through my voice, ‘Death to the East Indian Company? ” Every lip echoed: “Death to the East Indian Compa- ay!’ Shuddering with fierce joy, the princ- ess resolved to further fan the flame or fanaticism by the fire of her words. “Brothers of the terrible work, listen to me,” she said, “and when I shall have spoken, remember, and hold your- selyes ready. Before three days will flash the steel of daggers! Before three days, the lassoes will hiss! Before three days, fingers of iron will strangle the palpitating flesh! Have you heard me?” “Yes,” responded the Hindoos, with somber exultation. “To-morrow night,” continued Djella, “When the star of Kali shall shine above the highest mountain, the chiefs cf the terrible work will reunite at a place of meeting which shall be desig- nated to them to-morrow. Will they all come?” The fakir threw his eyes about him, appearing to question the faces hidden under the masks, : Doubtless they exchanged with him some sign, since, at the end of a no ment, he answered: ‘Queen, they will all come.” One of the Hindoos made a motion that he wished to speak. “We need gold for the work,” he said. Addressing the priestess, Djella com- mande “Lift the stone, Jubbec, which con- ceals our wealth, and give of it without counting.” “In the name of the goddess,” an- swered Jubbee, “I obey.” She bent over the steps of red mar- ble which led to the sanctuary. A steel ring, almost invisible, was fastened to ore cf these. The priestess seized the ring, and, using all her strength, she drew it toward her. The step displaced itself, and turning upon itself, unmasked a deep cavity, filled -with leather sacks puffed out with gold, Jubbee took these sacks, one by one, each of equal size and each containing some two thousand gold pieces, and be- gan to drag them forth, While she was thus occupied, Djelia, following her with her glance, mur- mured, with an expression of savage triumph: “Al Company of India, insatiable Molcch--English race—execrated race ‘ou little dream that* almost under your eyes, in the heart of Benares, at the feet of the goddess, exist treasures amassed for your ruin—” Jubbee interrupted her. “Is it enough?” she asked. In her turn, the princess questioned the Hindoos; : 5 zy “Ts it (nough?” a “Yes,” answered the fakir. "ey “Take it, then; it is all yours.” me “In the name of our brothers, tat “Be ready,” continued Djella. | ',~.{ “We are ready! We swear it!” ““W “No _more hidden contests, isolated murders. A general extermination pre- pares itself. In three days the East tndian Company will have breathed its last_sigh! In three days the last Eng- lishman will have found a bloody tomb in the ancient land of the Tamerlides!” “In three days!” repeated the Hin- doos. 7 “Close the sanctuary!” commanded the princess. Jubbee came out from the monu- ment, crossed the bridge and returned to the statue, whose hand she again moved. Instantly the bronze door fell back in its place, the grating closed—all was as it had been. “There remains for us now,” said the rajah, “only to withdraw ourselves.” You forget: something,” suggested the princes We must assure our- selves that no one has concealed him- self within the temple to surprise our s. “Brothers,” she command- “search everywhere and slay piti- y anyone you may discover.” Several minutes passed, then the searchers reappeared, saying, one after another: “No one!” When they had ail answered, Djella turned toward the drapery behind 1ich George, Kazil and Stop had con- led themsely “There?” she asked—“have you en~ tered there? Which of you has visited this gallery?” Everyone kept silence, Doorgal, plac- ing his hand upon his dagger, advanced toward it. Just as he reached it, the curtain lifted, and a Hindoo, covered with his maxtle, appeared, and bowed before the princess. “No one,” he said, in his turn. “It is well,” murmured Djella. “No profane regard has soiled the mysteries of the temple,” added Door- gal. “Priestess of Bowhanie!” command- ed the princess, “go seek your sisters, and when“tke gong shall announce to you that we have left the sacred place, return band watch!” Jubbee and the priestesses lost them- selves to sight in one of the galleries, while Djella continued, to the others: “And you, brothers of the terrible work, go and do what is given us to do.” “We will,” answered the natives. The fakir and the others left the sanctuary, carrying with them the bags of gold. Djella and Doorgal followed them. The Brahmins on guard scattered throughout the galleries, and the vast circular space about the sanctuary re- mained once more entirely empty. As soon as the sound of footsteps could be heard, a Hindoo, whose man- tle hid his face, cautiously reappeared and drew aside the drapery which con- cealed the fugitives. At the same time he lifted his veil. It was Kazil. “Master,” he said, “you can come eut. They are gone. We are alone.” Jeorge caught his hands. “Ah, my boy!” he murmured, with deep emotion, “you have saved our lives! Without you we were lost!” “Do you still doubt me?” asked Ka- zl. “Ah, you well know I do not doubt!” replied George. “And, master, have you heard?” (To be continued.) Equal to the Occasion, Facetious Gentleman—What is your regular hour for dining? Weary Watkins—Right now, I hope, - —Indianapolis Journal. annem saan aestnntanoe cine