He was a brave man. He could have faced death unflinchingly in open fight, but he sank into the apathy of despair as he realised that he had been trapped into this place, from which escape seemed impossible, to be murdered in cold blood when the rising took place; for he had no doubt now that the appearance of the Meerut mutineers would be the signal for a revolt in Delhi, and that when the time arrived every European would be ruthlessly butchered. As he remembered the words Haidee had uttered as he left the audience chamber, he reproached himself for not having been more on the alert. “Fool that I was,” he cried, “to be thus taken off my guard! That woman gave me warning, and yet I have failed to profit by it.” There was a small stone bench near where he was standing, and on to this he sank, and pressing his hands to his head, he murmured-- “My poor wife, God bless her; we shall never meet again.” In a little time he grew calmer, and, rising from his seat, he once more made an inspection of his prison. But the slimy stone walls and the solid iron door seemed to mock all thought of escape, as they certainly shut out every sound--at least no sound reached his ear. The silence of death was around him. The awful suspense was almost unendurable. He felt as if he should go mad, and he was half-tempted, in those first moments of despair and chagrin, to dash his brains out against the dripping wall. He paced the chamber in the agony of despair. He threw himself on the stone seat again. And as the thought of those he loved, and that he might never see them any more, flashed through his brain, he felt as if he were really going mad. Suddenly, out of his confused ideas, out of the mental chaos to which he had been well-nigh reduced, a question suggested itself to him, and an image rose up before his view. It was the image of Haidee. The light of her eyes seemed to shine upon him from out of the thick darkness. He saw the beauty of her form, veiled in her costly, jewelled drapery, and her magnificent hair floating around her. “Who is that strange beautiful woman?” was the question he asked, as in his imagination he saw her stand before him. Then he followed it by another. “Why did she interest herself in me? I must surely be totally unknown to her?” But the questions were more easily asked than answered. It was a mystery of which he could scarcely hope at that moment to find the solution. Exhausted with his long ride, and the great excitement under which he had laboured, he sank into an uneasy doze. How long he had remained thus he had no means of knowing; but he was suddenly startled by the boom of a heavy gun, that seemed to shake his dungeon, solid as it was. He sprang to his feet. He thought he would hear wild shouts and the clashing of arms. Boom! Again a gun gave tongue. It appeared to be directly overhead.