For a time Ahmed was so much enraged at the indignity he had suffered that he could think of nothing else. But when calmness returned he reflected on what had happened. Minghal must be mad to suppose that he would lend himself to so transparent a trap. And yet could he endure? He strained towards the food, but stretching his full length on the floor he could not touch it; yes, the tips of his fingers just touched the jar of water. He scratched at it, hoping that it would turn and come a little nearer; but his movements had the opposite effect, and soon his longest finger could not even feel the vessel. He drew back, and huddled on the damp stones. The torture in store terrified him; could he withstand it? His tongue was parched; he felt gnawing pains; his brow was damp with fear. He closed his eyes, perhaps death would come in sleep. But now he could not even sleep; there seemed to be a hammering at his brow; wild thoughts chased one another through his brain. He got up and walked about at the utmost tether of his chain until the clank of the metal became itself a torture. Then he moved his arms in the motions of drill; he felt that only by action could he ward off madness. So the hours dragged on. Surely the sun had now risen. Why had not Minghal returned? When he did return Ahmed would beg as a boon to be slain at once. He listened for footsteps. There was none. He walked about again; then stopped, fancying he heard another sound besides the clanking of the chain. But the stillness was as of the grave. He lay down, covering his head with his arms; if he could but sleep! And he was at last falling into the slumber of exhaustion when a slight sound struck upon his ear. Or was it a dream sound? Every sense was strung to the highest tension. He strained his ears; he must have been mistaken. But no; that was a sound, a creak. Minghal was returning. He got up, and his chain clanked. He stood motionless. Why did not the door open? There was another creak, and another interval of silence; and then he felt a sudden slight gust of fresher air strike his cheek; surely the door was open. Next moment there was a click, a spark, and in the sudden flash he thought he saw a figure in the room. Another spark, followed by a red glow, that grew brighter, and then a low bluish flame. It was the kindling of a lamp, and behind it he saw Kaluja Dass. "Hush!" said the khansaman in a whisper. "Here is food and drink." Ahmed seized upon the jar of water and drank his fill, then upon the bread covered with honey, and ate ravenously. "I cannot set you free," said the khansaman, still in a whisper. "The tyrant has sworn he will dismiss us all if you escape, and I have to think of the master. I took the vile one's keys from his raiment as he slept. I must go back lest he wakes. I will come again. The sahib knows: we will try to think of some plan." "What is doing?" whispered Ahmed. "Why is Minghal swathed?"