"And now that it has been done," cried Helen, "your plans are known. You have been followed, and you will have to suffer as you deserve-- death is the punishment to the cowardly native hand that is raised against an English lady." "Nonsense!" he said, laughing. "I have taken my steps better than that;" and his words which followed chilled Helen, as they robbed her of a hope. "No one saw you taken but that dreamy priest of your people, and he has been taken too. He wanders through our jungle finding flowers and plants, forgetting you half his time." "It is false!" cried Helen. "He was here to-day." "Yes, he was here to-day," said Murad, coolly, "and he has been taken back. He did not follow you. Do you suppose me so weak that I should let your people know where you had gone?" "They must--they will know--that it is you who have done this cruel wrong," she cried, indignantly. "No," he said, with a contemptuous laugh. "It it very easy to throw dust in English eyes. I will tell you for your comfort, and to make you settle to your fate, the people at the station think I am their friend, and that I have been helping them with my people to find you. And now you are only living in their hearts." "In their hearts?" cried Helen, starting; and her thoughts involuntarily turned to Neil Harley. "Yes," he said, quietly; "they think you dead." "Dead!" she cried, in spite of her efforts to be calm. "Yes; they believe you dead, and so you are to them. Helen the Englishwoman is dead, and this a beautiful Malay--my wife." "Dead?" she cried again, for his announcement came like a terrible shock. "Yes; they found a boat down the river far below the station. They think you went with two of your lovers on the water, and that the boat filled and sank, to be washed up on a bank. It was well managed, and Helen and three of her friends or lovers are mourned as dead." "Mr Harley is not imprisoned too?" cried Helen. "No; he is not a lover," said the Sultan, smiling. "Oh, Heaven help me!" muttered Helen. "So you are dead to them," he said, quietly. "Helen Perowne, the beautiful English girl, is no more, and in her place lives the Malay princess I see before me now. Ah, Helen, no one would know you. It is only I who have the knowledge of the change. What is it to be--my honoured wife or slave?" "It is horrible!" thought Helen, as now she realised more fully the extent of the iniquitous plot of which she had been made the victim. By Murad's words the hopes of succour she had nurtured had been swept one by one away, for she did not doubt him in the least, but felt her heart sink as she realised how helpless her position was, for his words seemed to carry truth with them, and she knew that she alone was to blame. Then she started violently, and shrank back towards the wall, for he had taken a step or two towards her and stretched out his hands. VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. AT BAY.