Next the courtyards were turned into stables, the Hall of Audience into a barrack-room; and the human fiends, tired with their long ride and their murderous work, strewed straw on the marble floors, and lay down to rest. When the first excitement had passed, Jewan Bukht prepared to take his departure. He had secured one of the best horses and a light vehicle. When he returned to the room where he had left Flora, he found that she had partly recovered, but was still dazed and bewildered. He had procured some food and wine, and these he offered to her. The poor girl, faint from long fasting, ate a mouthful of the food. Then Jewan poured out some wine, which she took almost mechanically. She drained the glass. Jewan watched her eagerly, as she laid her head wearily back on the couch. The wine was drugged. It soon took effect; and, in a few moments, poor Flora was once more insensible. Then the wretch wrapped her in a large cloak, and, lifting her in his arms, carried her to the buggy. Just as he was about to apply the whip to the horse, Moghul Singh rushed up, and, in an excited tone, cried-- “There is treachery somewhere. My bird has flown!” “What!--Harper?” Jewan asked. “Yes. He has escaped from the stone room, the strongest in the Palace. But how he has got away is a mystery. Both doors were locked and bolted. He has been liberated by some of our own people. But he shall not escape me, for he cannot get outside of the Palace. Farewell; glory to the Prophet!” the man cried, as he rushed away again. Jewan whipped his horse, and, waving his hand to several Sepoys who were standing about, he quitted the Palace by the Calcutta Gate, and, crossing the Jumna, reached the road that led to Lucknow, and giving his horse the reins, Delhi was soon left far behind. CHAPTER VI. HEROIC DEFENCE OF THE MAGAZINE. The great magazine of Delhi, with all its vast supplies of munitions of war, was in the city, not far distant from the Palace. It was one of the most important stores in Upper India. It was in charge of Lieutenant George Willoughby, of the Ordnance Commissariat Department--a man whose dauntless bravery it would almost be impossible to surpass. He had with him as comrades, Lieutenants Forrest and Raynor, officers of the Bengal Artillery, and six other Europeans. When the warning went forth that the mutineers were swarming into the town, this little band of resolute Englishmen braced themselves to face the tremendous odds which threatened them. “Comrades,” said Willoughby, as, mounting a gun, he addressed his force, “this is an awful time, and an awful responsibility rests upon our shoulders, for this great arsenal, with its enormous stores, will be the first point made for by the mutineers. Shall we yield it to them without a struggle?” “No, no!” was the united cry. “Good. Shall we defend it with our lives?” “Yes, yes!”