The sight of his blanket gave me an idea. I gathered up one of the heaviest of those with which my bench was provided and creeping into the thick embrasure of the window I spread the blanket, dropped it swiftly over the head of the sentry, and then leaped down and caught him firmly around the arms, bearing him to the ground with my weight. Although muffled in the blanket, which obstructed free action, the fellow struggled desperately, and I soon realized I could not subdue him. I dared not fire a revolver, as the sound would bring a horde upon me; so I managed to draw my pocket knife and open the blade. With this I stabbed repeatedly at the blanket, trying to reach the man’s heart, but the cloth was so thick and closely woven that the rather blunt end of my knife would not penetrate it, and all the while I was having greater difficulty in holding him down. Rendered desperate by this condition I suddenly sprang away and made for the nearest alley that led out of the square, leaving the sentry to fumble with the blanket until he could free his head. Before he could do this I had entered a narrow street, up which I ran at my best speed. By good luck it led westward, and I had visions of making a successful run across the island when suddenly in the darkness a pair of strong arms were flung around me and I was pinioned in a viselike grip. “Pardon me,” said a low, sneering voice, in the native tongue. “It is not wise to walk out at night. The dews of Faytan are dangerous.” It was the Crooked One. Panting and breathless I stood an unresisting prisoner, for I knew the game was up. But I did not reply, understanding that any remark would only call forth more triumphant sneers. As we stood there footsteps hastily approached and another joined us. “Have you got him?” asked the newcomer. “Yes, your Majesty.” “Good,” said Attero. “He nearly smothered me.” “I beg your Majesty’s pardon,” said I. “I had no idea it was you.” “And had you known—what then?” he asked. “I believe I should have acted in the same way.” The Crooked One laughed, and said: “While I hold him, your Majesty will do well to search him. He may carry dangerous weapons.” Attero had no hesitation in obeying this request. He took away my revolvers. My knife I had dropped in the square. Then I was led back to my prison. “I suspected,” said the Crooked One as he thrust me into my old room, “that on this night you would attempt to escape, knowing you are to die to-morrow.” “It was but natural,” added the king, calmly. “So we watched, my chieftain and I, that we might prevent it. Good night, Steele. Myself, I cannot sleep because of your impending doom. It makes me very unhappy. But die you must.” With these words he left me, but the Crooked One remained to say: “Every street is well guarded. Escape is impossible. Be patient, therefore, for no man can evade his fate.” He shuffled after the king, and left alone I threw myself upon the bench and waited for daylight.