There was, however, one witness of the scene unsuspected by Zynool. The Assistant-Collector's eye had been upon the Mahomedan ever since he appeared in the fray, knowing him to be one of the most dangerous of the agitators, and fearing lest he should approach the Collector. His attention had been attracted some minutes previously by the old ayah in the red saree standing at the street corner; he wondered what she did there at such a time. Suddenly, to his horror, he saw the Mahomedan on his great horse deliberately charge her, knock her down, and ruthlessly trample on her prostrate form. He did not hesitate a moment. Forcing his way through, he seized the horse's bridle. "Zynool Sahib, dismount," he commanded, with flashing eyes. "I am witness to your felling down that old woman. I put you under arrest. Dismount, I say." To his surprise, Zynool meekly prepared to obey, and with the assistance of one of his party reached the ground. The man who had been ordered to drag away the unconscious form of the ayah stood riveted to the spot on the appearance of the English sahib. "I would speak one word," said Zynool, coming close to Mark Cheveril's ear. "'Tis no ayah, 'tis La'yer Rayner, a forger, flying from justice in a woman's petticoats. See, sahib, if I speak not the truth!" Mark felt impelled to draw a step nearer the prostrate form while Zynool stood watching his every movement with a sardonic expression. He bent over the huddled heap in the red saree, and recognised the face of Hester's husband. Almost at the same moment, one of the natives caught sight of the white knees under the disordered draperies and burst into a loud laugh. "A _feringhi_, by the holy Prophet! Not an ayah at all!" A dozen voices around echoed in amazement, "A _feringhi_?" Zynool looked on with silent contempt. It was a terrible moment for Mark Cheveril, but his presence of mind did not forsake him. He felt the call to be paramount even when so much else was at stake. He raised his voice and shouted: "Samptor!" The Jailer heard the call above the discordant yells around him. Fearing that the Assistant was in danger, he forced his way to him, his stalwart limbs standing him in good stead. "I give this man in charge," said Cheveril sternly, pointing to Zynool, whose countenance became black with rage and fear. "Saw him with my own eyes trample down this--this victim," he added, pointing to the motionless form at his feet.