“Would God I could see the clear course!” laughed Alwa.

“Call the Sikh, please.”

The Sikh came running, and Cunningham gave him the folded note.

“Have you a horse for him, Alwa-sahib?”

“That has been attended to, sahib,” the Sikh answered.  “The Alwa-sahib has given me a wonder of a horse.”

“Very well, then, Jaidev Singh.  Watch your chance.  Go to the parapet, and when you see by their lanterns that the cavalry below have ridden off, then race for all you’re worth with that news for Byng-bahadur!”

“Salaam, sahib!” said the Sikh.

“Salaam, Jaidev Singh.  And now hide, every-body!  Don’t let Jaimihr get the impression that we’re playing with him.”

A little later Miss McClean led Jaimihr through a passage in the rock, off which axe-hewn cells led on either side, to the far side of the summit, where the parapet was higher but the wall was very much less sheer.  The Prince’s arms were still too sore from the wrenching he received when they took him prisoner for him to dare trust himself hand over hand on a rope; she had to make the rope fast beneath his armpits, and then lower him slowly, taking two turns with the rope round the waist of a brass cannon.  The Prince fended himself off the ragged wall with hands and feet, and called up instructions to her as loudly as he dared.

It was a tremendous drop.  For the last fifty or more feet the wall rose straight, overhung by a ridge that rasped the rope.  And the rope proved fifteen feet or more too short.  Rosemary paid out as much of it as she dared, and then made the end fast round the cannon, leaning over to see whether Jaimihr would have sense enough or skill enough to cut himself free and fall.  But he hung where he was and spun, and it was five minutes before Rosemary remembered that his weapons had all been taken from him!  It was scarcely likely that he could bite the thick rope through with his teeth!

She stood then for two or three more minutes wondering what to do, for she had no knife of her own, and she had made the rope fast—­ woman-wise—­with a true landlubber’s knot that tightened from the strain until her struggling fingers could not make the least impression on it.  But Alwa walked up openly—­drew his heavy sabre—­and saved the situation for her.

“That may help to jog his recollection of the bargain!” he laughed, severing the rope with a swinging cut and peering over to see, if he could, how Jaimihr landed.  By a miracle the Prince landed on his feet.  He sat down for a moment to recover from the shock, and then walked off awkwardly to where his cavalry were sleeping by their horses.

He had some trouble in persuading the outposts who he really was, and there was an argument that could be quite distinctly heard from the summit of the rock, and made Alwa roar with laughter before, finally, the whole contingent formed and wheeled and moved away, ambling toward Howrah City at a pace that betokened no unwillingness.