At last the sound of feet was heard, and the gleam of white and scarlet was revealed by the light of a smoky torch at the doorway of the hall. Eight men in the dress of the brotherhood carried in a rude litter, and were followed by others, all bearing marks of fighting. Behind them came the men who had been guarding the walls, and with them Maadat Ali; but a sob broke from Wazira Begum as she realised that her elder brother was not there. The litter, still covered with the mantles of the men who had carried it, was placed in the middle of the hall, and the members of the brotherhood proceeded to arrange themselves in their proper ranks; but there was some confusion, as if all did not know their places. Lady Haigh’s hand gripped Penelope’s, and she directed her attention to the back of the hall. Behind the men in scarlet and white crept a silent crowd of figures in ordinary native dress, and these were dividing in the semi-darkness so as to line both sides of the hall. Almost at the same moment two cries broke the stillness. Wazira Begum sprang up from her crouching position, and shrieked with all her strength, “Treachery! treachery! sons of the Mountains!” and Maadat Ali, who had contrived to make his way unobserved to the side of the litter and lift the covering, dropped it in amazement, and cried shrilly, “It is not the Sheikh-ul-Jabal at all!” CHAPTER XXIII. PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES. In a moment all was confusion. Behind the curtain, Zulika and Hafiza threw themselves upon Wazira Begum, and carried her off by main force, regardless of her struggles, locking her into a small room where jewels and best clothes were kept. They had seen the man in the litter raise himself and deal Maadat Ali a blow that stretched him senseless on the floor, and their sudden action had only just prevented the girl from rushing unveiled into the turmoil of armed men. The hall was ringing with battle-cries: “Jabal! Jabal!” from the brotherhood, “Dīn! Dīn!” from the men who had carried the litter and those who had dogged their steps. Swords were flashing; but such was the confusion that the garrison of Sheikhgarh did not know who was friend or who foe. The dark-clothed strangers, who had almost succeeded in surrounding them, were obviously enemies; but mingled among themselves were the litter-bearers in their own distinctive dress, headed by the man who had been carried in the litter, and who had now sprung to his feet and unsheathed a sword. Beset and outnumbered, the men of the Mountains turned furiously upon the nearest foe each could distinguish, and a wild turmoil raged, which swayed for a moment towards the entrance of the hall, leaving clear the remains of the litter and the form of Maadat Ali lying beside it. Lady Haigh put a hand round the curtain and gripped the arm of Murtiza Khan, who still stood motionless in his niche. These bewildering changes were nothing to him; his duty began and ended with the defence of his Memsahibs.