“I saw my master’s body lying far below, in the Armenian dress he had worn, in a pit as deep as Jehannam. And the robbers laughed at me, and bade me mark the place well, saying, ‘Thy master’s turn to-day, thine to-morrow.’ Then they led me back, more dead than alive with fear; but behold! before we reached the cave we found coming to meet us certain other Kurds, who had only just arrived in the stronghold, and those with me stopped to salute them and to ask them of their welfare. And after welcoming them they killed a sheep and made a feast, leaving me in the cave, but with no stone at its mouth. And when they were eating and were merry, and it was dark and no guard set, I crept out, and finding the sword of a man who had thrown it aside while he ate, I cut through my bonds. Then, taking the sword with me, and some bread that lay near, I stole away, and when I was out of earshot of the Kurds, I started to run. But how I found the way down the mountain, or how I did not fall and die, I cannot tell; I know only that I made my way hither, and for three days have I watched for thee, O my lady, to give thee the message of the dead. But into the town I could not come, for the watchman at the gate drove me away.” “And what wilt thou do now?” asked Um Yusuf. “I should wish to return to Baghdad and my own people,” he said; “but how am I to go there, when my master is dead, and the Kurds have robbed me?” “Go to Baghdad,” said Cecil, emptying her purse mechanically into his hands, “and tell the Balio Bey what you have told me. Don’t lose time--but no, there is no need of any hurry now. Let us go back to Sardiyeh, Um Yusuf. Kasha Thoma cannot help us.” CHAPTER XXIV. PRISONERS. They retraced their steps up the rugged hill-path, Cecil first, Um Yusuf following her, and went in at the gate, climbing the steep rock-hewn lanes of the little town in silence. At their house-door Masûd was lounging in his accustomed place, and started up in astonishment on seeing them approaching from the street. “This is not well, O my lady,” he said to Cecil, with an air of respectful remonstrance which would have amused her at any other time. “Does my lady wish to bring wrath upon her servant’s head from the Bey Effendi, that she goes out without summoning him to attend upon her?” “Hold thy peace, foolish one!” cried Um Yusuf, as Cecil turned and stared at him with unseeing eyes. “Is my lady to be taken to task by thy insolent tongue? Let her pass, or I will complain to the Bey Effendi of thy rudeness.”