"I've got rid of the lot," he said joyously, after he had explained the position in a few rapid words; "there isn't a soul in this section except the solitary cellers--who, of course, are ironed--a few sick people, and the assistant surgeon; but _baboo-jee_ is an agnostic, and is so confoundedly afraid of the possibility of a future life that he may be trusted to go into green collapse if he hears a shot fired." So, rapidly, the two men set to work, undisturbed by more than a protesting "_Huzoor_, what shall we do?" from the posse outside the first gate, and a low knocking at the wicket. There were double doors here, however, and of the sort which it would need time to negotiate, without powder. "They will hold out for an hour, at least," said the doctor; "then there will be the inner one, and after that the alley door--unless--" he remembered Kishen Rao, and frowned. That was the only weak spot in his armour. "We can count on an hour and a half, at least," he continued, carefully allowing for the worst; "longer, perhaps. Now then, Smith, for the toughest job! I've got a couple of crowbars here. Those first six steps--eight if we can--of the stairs must come down. There aren't enough of us to hold them." So, for fully a quarter of an hour, no sound was heard above the curious vibration of the storm except the grinding and crushing of the bricks as they were rapidly eased out, one by one, from the mud mortar. The light of one of the office lamps, set on the ground, showed by that time a sheer drop of eight or ten feet, and Eugene Smith, working above, jammed his crowbar into a crevice of the wall against which the steps clung like a swallow's nest, and gave Dr. Dillon, who had been working below, a rope and a hand up. The latter set down the keys and the lamp he had brought up with him, and deliberately dusted the knees of his trousers. "There, that's done," he said. "Couldn't be better." "Yes, it seems pretty safe," assented Eugene Smith, a trifle dubiously. "Safe!" echoed the doctor, enthusiastically, "I haven't felt so safe for the last fortnight. Hullo! what's that?" That was a sudden bugle-call. The doctor's face fell. "What, already! I didn't expect relief so soon. However, it can't be helped. I'll just go up and tell Dering what I've done, so that he may be prepared for the locked out ones!" He took the light in his hand and crossed to the outer parapet. "Hello, Dering!" he began, peering down. Then a couple of shots whizzed past his head and he ducked. At the same moment, as if roused by the concussion, the first crackling thunderclap of the dust-storm, sounding muffled through the thick air, followed like a roll-call, and reverberated dully, sluggishly, through the black darkness. When it passed, Dr. Dillon's voice rose quietly. "There will be no relief, Smith; those are the troopers, and they're against us. So now--we've got it to ourselves, Smith, for some time."