At this moment Desmond said no more, but in the dead of night, when all were asleep, he leaned over to the Babu's charpoy and gently nudged him. "Surendra Nath!" he whispered. "Who calls?" returned the Babu. "Listen. Have you yourself ever thought of escaping?" "Peace and quietness, sir. He will hear." "Who?" "The Gujarati, sir--Fuzl Khan." "But he doesn't understand. And if he did, what then?" "He was the single man, positively unique, who was spared among six attempting escape last rains." "They did make an attempt, then. Why was he spared?" "That, sir, deponent knoweth not. The plot was carried to Angria." "How?" "That also is dark as pitch. But Fuzl Khan was spared, that we know. No man can trust his vis-a-vis. No man is now so bold to discuss such matters." "Is that why we are all chained up at night?" "That, sir, is the case. It is since then our limbs are shackled." Desmond thought over this piece of information. He had noticed that the Gujarati was left much alone by the others. They were outwardly civil enough, but they rarely spoke to him of their own accord, and sometimes they would break off in a conversation if he appeared interested. Desmond had put this down to the man's temper; he was a sullen fellow, with a perpetually hangdog look, occasionally breaking out in paroxysms of violence which cost him many a scourging from the overseer's merciless rattan. But the attitude of his fellow prisoner was more easily explained if the Babu's hint was well founded. They feared him. Yet, if he had indeed betrayed his comrades, he had gained little by his treachery. He was no favorite with the officers of the yard. They kept him hard at work, and seemed to take a delight in harrying him. More than once, unjustly, as it appeared to Desmond, he had made acquaintance with the punishment tank. In his dealings with his fellows he was morose and offensive. A man of great physical strength, he was a match for any two of his shed companions save the Biluchis, who, though individually weaker, retained something of the spirit of their race and made common cause against him. The rest he bullied, and none more than the Bengali, whose weaklier constitution spared him the hard manual work of the yard, but whose timidity invited aggression. Now that the subject which constantly occupied his thoughts had been mooted, Desmond found himself more eagerly striving to find a solution of the problem presented by the idea of escape. At all hours of the day, and often when he lay in sleepless discomfort at night, his active mind recurred to the one absorbing matter: how to regain his freedom. He had already canvassed the possibilities of escape by land, only to dismiss the idea as utterly impracticable; for even could he elude the vigilance of the sentries he could not pass as a native, and the perils besetting an Englishman were not confined to Angria's territory.