PLUS. As Hilton cried for help his voice sounded stifled and dull, while he vainly tried to cast off a great woollen cloth that had been deftly thrown over his head. It took hardly an instant before it was wound tightly round him. Then a rope was twisted so rapidly round arms and legs, that he was turned, as it were, into a complete mummy; and when his assailants threw him upon the grass he was so helpless that they literally rolled him over and over down the slope of closely shaven herbage into a large row-boat, into whose bottom he fell without pain, and almost without a sound. "I thought it was the crocodiles," he said to himself, as his heart beat painfully; and then he began to writhe in spirit at his want of caution, for he felt sure that this, the capture of an officer, was one of the first steps towards an attack upon the Residency island. Just then he heard a voice, and what seemed to be a whispered order in Malay; and the boat might have been seen to glide away like a shadow over the starry water, breaking it up into spangles as it went on and on towards the middle of the stream without so much as a sound. Then a pang shot through the young officer's heart, to tell him that he was not, in spite of his word, quite cured, for his first thought now was: "What will become of Helen!" A few minutes later Chumbley strolled up to the pagoda, where old Stuart was comfortably enjoying his glass. "Well, old fellow," he drawled: "not melted away yet." "No; nor you neither," retorted the old merchant. "Want some whuskie?" "No; I want a cigar," said Chumbley; and he helped himself from the box. "Seen anything of Hilton?" he asked, as he lit the roll of tobacco. "Yes! here a bit ago, and then went off to smoke in the cool air. Leave my little girl all right?" "Yes; she was sitting talking to the Princess and the Rajah in front of the house. What a lovely night!" "Humph, yes. Pretty well; but you should see the night, laddie, over one o' the Scottish lochs, wi' the ootline o' a mountain stannin oot i' front o' the northern sky. Ay, but that's a sight." "Yes, s'pose so," said Chumbley; "but as we can't have the night over the Scottish loch, isn't it as well to make the best of this?" "Humph! yes," said the old man; "but I'm getting tired of sitting here. I want to go back home. How much longer is this tomfoolery going to last?" "Can't say, sir. Why don't you go on to the lawn and have a chat?" "Pah! Do I look like a man who could do that sort of thing?" "Can't say you do," replied Chumbley, cheerfully. "Well, I'm going to look for Hilton!" and, stepping out of the pagoda, he went across the lawn, with his hands deep down in his pockets. "_Now_, let's see," he said to himself, as he strolled lazily on, "where would that chap be likely to have stuck himself up for a quiet smoke?