VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. ESCAPED BY ACCIDENT. The Rev Arthur Rosebury passed many miserable hours when the sun was down, for then he began to think of Helen Perowne, and wondered where she was. It was a terrible thought that she was in the power of the Malays; and in a dreamy, despairing manner, he wondered how matters were at the station, and whether any steps would be taken to set him at liberty. But as soon as the daylight came there was solace for the solitary prisoner, for he was amongst wonderful plants, such as he had never before seen, and his guards or attendants, whichever they might be called, were always ready to help him, and to supply him with any specimens he required. He had lost count of time by devoting himself so earnestly to the botanical treasures of the garden; and one morning, after asking himself whether he ought not to make some effort to escape, he was out in the grounds of his prison-house once more, when, having pretty well exhausted its treasures, he walked straight to the gate. His guard, who had been seated beneath the veranda calmly chewing his betel-nut, snatched out his kris, and darted fiercely after the chaplain, who was evidently about to escape; but on coming in sight of the prisoner, and finding him stooping over a cluster of orchids in a damp place in the jungle, the man stopped short, a contemptuous smile crossed his face, and he slowly replaced his kris, folded his arms and leaned against a tree. In his eyes the botanist was a simple maniac, and so long as he made no vigorous effort to escape, it did not seem to matter if he went a little way into the jungle to collect his plants. Stepping back quietly a few yards, the man held up his hands in a peculiar way, and a couple of dark figures armed with spears, glided from the house to his side, the little party crouching down amongst the dense growth, and holding a consultation for a few minutes, the result of which was that the two last arrivals glided back a short distance, while the principal guard slowly followed the chaplain some twenty or thirty yards behind, and always unseen by him he watched. The foliage was so dense that there was never the slightest difficulty in this, and hence it was that as the Reverend Arthur, forgetful now of everything but his favourite pursuit, went slowly on into the more easily penetrated parts of the jungle, his guards were always close at hand, forming as it were the links of a chain between his prison and himself.