Raynier's blood curdled within him as the full horror of this awful object broke upon him. No coffin was it, but a bath--and the iron rings and chains let into its sides, two at each end, told their own tale. So too, did the ashes of a dead fire underneath. The upper end was padded. The sufferer might not dash out his own brains; might not seek relief from his frightful torment that way. Faint and sick, his senses in a whirl, he gazed stupidly at the horrid thing. Was his brain giving way? It seemed so. Hardly knowing how he got there he was outside in the air again. "Our bathroom does not please thee, Feringhi," said a voice. Looking up, his eyes met the baleful sneering ones of Murad Afzul. "I have been ill with fever of late. You forget," he answered, instinctively striving to disguise the despair and terror which the sight of the horrid place had stamped upon his countenance. Then he fainted. When he came to himself again he was in semi-darkness. A man was bending over him, and seemed to be trying to revive him. He recognised the Hakim. "Where am I? Oh!" He had tried to rise, only to discover that he was chained by the ankles to an iron ring in the stone floor. His hands, however, were free. He saw further that he was in a damp and gloomy apartment akin to a dungeon, a grating above the door serving to let in air and light. "Take away your remedies, Hakim Sahib," he said, bitterly. "I have no wish to be revived for the purpose of being tortured, and I suppose it was for that reason I was taken care of before?" "It is the Nawab's orders," answered the other. "Ill would it fare with me did I not carry them out." "Well, I will not help you, then." "You will not be helping yourself in that case, Sahib," said the Hakim, "for then they would work their will on you at once. See--there is food. Bethink. Is there no object in gaining time?" "If so, I know not what it can be," answered Raynier. And then an idea seized him. This man might help him to escape, of course, for a large reward. But when it was put to him the Hakim shook his head. It was impossible. Besides, what would be his own fate were it suspected he had even thought of such a thing! And as though terrified at the idea he went out, leaving the prisoner alone. Raynier pondered over the Hakim's words. Was there significance in them? It might be so. But why should he renew his strength in order the longer to endure the tortures which Mushim Khan, whom he had thought his friend but now proved to be a most bitter and vindictive enemy, had in store for him? There was the food beside him, within his reach. There, too, was wine, which struck him as a strange circumstance, remembering that he was in the midst of rigid Mahomedans. Clearly he was to be fatted up for the sacrifice, and yet--and yet--Nature was strong. He needed the stimulant badly, and--took it.