As the night grew old, the guns ceased, the fires died out, the cries were hushed, and stillness fell upon all things. There was no light, neither moon nor stars. He could see nothing. But occasionally he heard a lizard dart out to seize its prey, or the squeal of a rat as it was caught in the jaws of a snake, and he thought that--mystery of mysteries--even amongst the lowest order of created things, there was endless war, there was bitter pain, there was cruel death. Why should such things be? Amongst the overhanging palms and the surrounding foliage, the flying foxes, huge bats, and grey-owls flapped their wings and gibbered and hooted, like evil spirits gloating over the harvest of blood and the awful work of the reaper Death. The man’s soul was heavy, his breast was tortured with pain. The darkness, and solitude, and suspense, were all but unendurable. He felt as if he was going mad. Why did not Haidee come? Over and over again he was strongly tempted to trust himself to the darkness of the night and endeavour to find his way out of the city. But, alas! he was soon convinced of the utter hopelessness of such a course. Besides, he could not desert this woman, until he was sure she would not return. His manhood rebelled against that. He strained his eyes in all directions, but nothing met his gaze. The darkness was impenetrable. Worn out with his long watching, and fasting, and excitement, nature once more asserted her supremacy, and he fell asleep. How long he slept he knew not, but he was suddenly startled by the sound of footsteps. She comes at last, he thought. The first faint streaks of dawn were in the sky, and they enabled him to make out closely surrounding objects. His heart palpitated, and his face burned. The sounds had died away again, and there was silence unbroken. He listened, and listened, and listened until the strain became painful. It was but a few minutes’ pause, but it seemed almost like hours. Then footsteps again, and whispering voices beneath. One was a woman’s, Haidee’s, he believed. But whose was the other? Had the time come for him to do the deed he had promised her to do? Had she brought Moghul Singh? He held his breath. He could hear the hard beating of his own heart. However brave a man may be, a sense of unknown and undefinable danger produces a feeling akin to fear. And this is increased when he is situated as Harper was. He drew the dagger from his belt, and held it firmly. It was a formidable weapon, and, in the hands of a determined man, at close quarters, there would have been little chance for an antagonist escaping its poisoned point. The footsteps drew nearer. Two people were ascending the stairs--a woman and a man; the difference in the tread betrayed that. They reached the top. Two persons stood in the room--one was a woman and one a man. The woman was Haidee; but, in the dim light, Harper saw that the man was not Moghul Singh. CHAPTER X. A NARROW ESCAPE.