“Let us talk this over as friends,” she said, “for we are in much the same position. We are to be kept as hostages in order to extract concessions from Major Keeling, and you and your brother, Wazira Begum, as a means of bringing pressure upon the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. At least that shows that he has not been killed or defeated, but I suppose he might return here and be lured into an ambush at any moment. Now think; Murtiza Khan cannot possibly reach Alibad before daylight to-morrow, even if he is not seen and wounded or captured. Major Keeling would never attack a place like this by daylight, so that even if he sent a force to our help at once, we could not be relieved until to-morrow night. Is there any chance of barricading ourselves in the zenana, and holding out for all those hours?” “Nay,” said Wazira Begum wearily; “we might block up the door with charpoys, and ye might refuse to go out; but they would only need to set fire to the barricade, and then they would break in and slay us all. Do as thou wilt. Who am I to give commands, when thou art present? It shall be done as thou sayest, and my brother and I, and these women, can but die in the hope of saving thee and thy sister.” “Nonsense!” said Lady Haigh. “If there’s no chance of defending ourselves successfully, of course we won’t attempt it. You know that perfectly well, Wazira Begum, or you wouldn’t have put your lives into my hands in that despairingly confiding way.” The girl looked slightly ashamed. “Thou art better to me than I deserve, better than I thought thee,” she said. “Were it not for my brother, I would refuse to give you up; but how can I bring death upon him? I will send my handmaid Hafiza with you, to wait upon you and to be your interpreter with the men sent to guard you, for ye are great ladies, and must not speak with them face to face. Also ye shall have bedding, and such other things as this place can supply and ye may desire. And forgive me that I can do no more, for truly woe is come upon this house, and the shadow of death.” She broke into loud wailing again, in which the other women followed her, and Lady Haigh grew angry. “Penelope, lie down here and try and get some rest. Wazira Begum, as you are good enough to lend us bedding, please let Hafiza get it out and have it ready to strap on the horses. And tell me, had we better wear veils like yours instead of our hats?” “Nay, ye would be known everywhere as Farangis by your tight garments, and your manner of sitting on one side of your horses,” said Wazira Begum. “But this is what ye must do.” She unfastened the gauze veil from Lady Haigh’s hat and doubled it. “Now no man can see clearly what manner of woman is beneath.”