Lady Agnes, dishevelled, her dress half stripped from her person, was seated upon a great boulder, staring hopelessly, lifelessly at the crowd of men in the roadway.  Beside her stood a tall islander, watching her and at the same time listening eagerly to the dispute that went on between his fellows.  She was not bound; her hands and feet and lips were free.  The glow from the torches held by gesticulating hands fell upon her tired, frightened face.  Deppingham groaned aloud as he looked down upon the wretched, hopeless woman that he loved and had come out to die for.

Bobby Browne was standing near by.  His hands were tightly bound behind his back.  His face was blood-covered and the upper part of his body was almost bare, evidence of the struggle he had made against overwhelming odds.  He was staring at the ground, his head and shoulders drooping in utter dejection.

The cause of the slow progress made by the attacking party was also apparent after a moment’s survey of the situation.  Three of the treasure chests were standing beside the road, affording seats for as many weary carriers.  It was all quite plain to Chase.  Rasula and his men had chanced upon the two white people during one of their trips to the cave for the purpose of removing the chests.  Moreover, it was reasonable to assume that this lot of chests represented the last of those stored away by Von Blitz.  The others had been borne away by detachments of men who left the cave before the discovery and capture of the heirs.

Rasula was haranguing the crowd of men in the road.  The hidden listeners could hear and understand every word he uttered.

“It is the only way,” he was shouting angrily.  “We cannot take them into the town to-night—­maybe not for two or three days.  Some there are in Aratat who would end their lives before sunrise.  I say to you that we cannot put them to death until we are sure that the others have no chance to escape to England.  I am a lawyer.  I know what it would mean if the story got to the ears of the government.  We have them safely in our hands.  The others will soon die.  Then—­then there can be no mistake!  They must be taken to the mines and kept there until I have explained everything to the people.  Part of us shall conduct them to the lower mill and the rest of us go on to the bank with these chests of gold.”  In the end, after much grumbling and fierce quarreling, in which the prisoners took little or no interest, the band was divided into two parts.  Rasula and six of the sturdiest men prepared to continue the journey to Aratat, transporting the chests.  Five sullen, resentful fellows moved over beside the captives and threw themselves down upon the grassy sward, lighting their cigarettes with all the philosophical indifference of men who regard themselves as put upon by others at a time when there is no alternative.

“We will wait here till day comes,” growled one of them defiantly.  “Why should we risk our necks going down the pass to-night?  It is one o’clock.  The sun will be here in three hours.  Go on!”