Then, as the men, who were in a great state of dread as to whether they should be allowed to depart, tremblingly placed the boat alongside the bamboo landing-stage, Hilton sprang out, Chumbley following, after placing some silver coin in the men's hands, and sending them rejoicing away. "What's that?" cried Chumbley, as he caught part of a sentence and the Resident's hand at the same moment. "Miss Perowne missing?" "Yes; carried off, I suppose now," said the Resident, between his teeth. "The same brain must have contrived your absence, though for what I don't know, unless it was for ransom." Hilton and Chumbley exchanged glances. "Only one brain here could have plotted this," cried the Resident, as he mastered the fact of his friends having been made prisoners in some out-of-the-way place; "and the brain was that of the doubly-dyed, treacherous scoundrel who has all along professed to be our friend. I always suspected it: Helen Perowne is a prisoner in Rajah Murad's hands." VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER TEN. HAMET. The disposition on the part of Helen Perowne and her companion seemed to be to trust the beasts of the jungle sooner than the Rajah; and after a few moments' pause to listen, they went cautiously on, with the cries of the great cat-like creature that they knew to be in their neighbourhood seeming to grow more distant, as if it had been driven off by the noise and firing at the house. It was terrible work that flight; and had she been alone Helen would have given up in sheer despair, for every atom of growth in the jungle seemed to be enlisted in the Rajah's service, and strove to check the fugitives as they fled. Great thorns hooked and clung to their clothes; ratan canes wound across and across their way, tripping them up, so that again and again they fell heavily; while the dense undergrowth rose up constantly like a wall of verdure, as impenetrable as some monstrous hedge. Streaming with perspiration, panting with exhaustion, and ready to give up in despair, Helen struggled on, nerved to making fresh attempts by the courage of her companion; but at last the jungle was so dense that any further effort seemed like so much madness, and they paused to rest, Helen sinking down amidst the thorns and leaves, too much exhausted to move. The Malay girl did not speak, but stood leaning against a tree-trunk, listening for tokens of pursuit, but there was not a sound; and by degrees it dawned upon them that the Rajah's people had taken alarm at the noise, and then, seeing nothing, hearing nothing more, they had quietly returned to their rest; for the probabilities were that they would not venture to disturb the Rajah, who would sleep on in his stupor perhaps till mid-day. After a time the girl laid her hand upon Helen's shoulder.