The moment was come. Silently Fuzl Khan rose to his feet; he sprang forward with the lightness, the speed, the deadly certainty of a Thug {name of a class of hereditary stranglers}, his hand was on the man's throat. Desmond, close behind, had a gag ready, but there was no need to use it. In the open the Gujarati could exert his strength more freely than through the narrow windows of the shed. Almost before Desmond reached his side the sentinel was dead. In that desperate situation there was no time to expostulate. While the Gujarati laid the hapless man gently beside the gun that peeped through the embrasure of the parapet, Desmond picked up the sentinel's matchlock, ran softly back, and summoned his companions. They came silently up the steps. To fasten the rope securely to the gun carriage was the work of a few instants; then the Gujarati mounted the parapet, and, swarming down the rope, sank into the darkness. One by one the men followed; it came to the Babu's turn. Trembling with excitement and fear he shrank back. "I am afraid, sahib," he said. Without hesitation Desmond drew up the rope and looped the end. "Get into the loop," he whispered. The Babu trembled but obeyed, and, assisting him to climb the parapet, Desmond lowered him slowly to the foot of the wall. Then he himself descended last of all, and on the rocks below the little group was complete. They were free. But the most difficult part of their enterprise was yet to come. Behind them was the curtain of the fort; before them a short, shelving rocky beach and the open sea. No time was wasted. Walking two by two for mutual support over the rough ground, the party set off toward the jetty. They kept as close as possible to the wall, so that they would not be seen if a sentinel should happen to look over the parapet; and being barefooted, the slight sound they might make would be inaudible through the never-ceasing swish of the surf. Their feet were cut by the sharp edges of the rocks; many a bruise they got; but they kept on their silent way without a murmur. Reaching the angle of the wall, they had now perforce to leave its shelter, for their course led past the outskirts of the native town across a comparatively open space. Fortunately the night was very dark, and here and there on the shore were boats and small huts which afforded some cover. The tide was on the ebb; and, when they at length struck the jetty, it was at a point some twenty yards from its shoreward end. Groping beneath it they halted for a moment, then the two Marathas separated themselves from the rest and, with a whispered word of farewell, disappeared like shadows into the blackness. The sea was not for them, they would take their chance on land. From a point some distance beyond the end of the jetty shone a faint glimmer of light. Desmond silently drew the Gujarati's attention to it. "They are gambling," whispered the man. "So much the better for our chances," thought Desmond.