Fazil had observed Maloosray's violent attack upon him, and that Bulwunt retreated a step or two to avoid it; while at the same time he had advanced towards his own antagonist. The consequences of that blow, therefore, were not immediately seen by him. Now inexpressibly shocked and grieved by the result, Fazil heeded no one; but pressing his way through those assembled, somewhat roughly, he threw himself on his knees beside Bulwunt, who was quite insensible, and, laying aside his sword, strove to raise him up. He saw indeed with great grief that Bulwunt had received a very severe wound; and the pool of blood flowing from the cut, which had not been stanched, and his apparently lifeless condition, caused the most lively alarm. "Will no one help me?" cried Fazil, looking round, while vainly endeavouring to stanch the blood which occasionally welled from the gaping wound, as Bulwunt breathed heavily. "For the love of God and the Apostle lend me thy waist-band, good sir!" he continued, addressing a respectable-looking man who had accompanied the soldiers, and who was, in fact, the petty officer over them; "or bid some one loose my waist-cloth, else he will perish. Alas, my true friend and brother!" "And who are you," returned the man contemptuously, "who, in the dress of a Kafir Gosai, dares to take the name of the holy Apostle?--on whom be peace!--a thief or murderer, I warrant. How say you, brother! He may have done this himself, and now mingles with us to pretend grief and avoid suspicion. Here is some evil, depend upon it; seize him and bind him fast." "Yes, my lords," cried the keeper of the house, who now ventured forward, "bind him fast. That is the fellow who did the murder. They quarrelled over their ganja; and though I did all I could to prevent them----" "Peace!" cried Fazil, accustomed only to command, and who could ill brook the measures threatened; for several men had closed about him at their officer's order, while another had kicked away his sword, which one of the men was picking up. "Peace, I say; raise him up! See, he is badly wounded; have you no compassion? He will die!" "Whether he dies or whether he lives, one would think it was little concern of thine, boy," replied the man; "and there is blood on his sword, too," he added, as the man who had possessed himself of it held it up to the light. "Seize him, brother, and bind him fast; he will have to answer for this in the morning. Who art thou, ill-born?" As the leader of the party spoke, several of the soldiers had thrown themselves upon Fazil, who still kneeled beside Bulwunt, and, holding him down, pulled the turban rudely from his head, and in an instant bound his arms with it so tightly behind his back that the act caused him immediate and exquisite pain. "Who art thou, knave?" asked the man again peremptorily. "Speak," cried several of the men, shaking him rudely; "don't you hear what his worship says to you? Speak!"