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 extremities, if we may judge by the gestures which he is making. I wonder what they will decide. Something not remarkably pleasant for us, no doubt!"

"We shall know too soon, I am afraid," I responded. "Those who seem to speak in our favour are in a very decided minority; but, see, the vote is about to be taken that will soon settle our fate!"

Some small, white-looking wafers were brought in by a Hindu, who bowed several times to the Brahmins, and then held before them a golden salver, on which the wafers were placed. With a small style, which each Brahm possessed, a mark was scratched on the voting-tablet, which was then placed in a beautifully carved tube—apparently an elephant's tusk, for it resembled it in shape, tapering off to almost a point at the end, the inside of the tusk having been removed until a mere shell of ivory remained. We were evidently in great disfavour with the Brahmins, for when the votes were divided, the heap which was recorded for us did not contain more than five or six tablets. As the counting of them finished the faces of the Brahmins lit up with satisfaction, and there was a deathlike silence which prevailed as we were reluctantly brought before the chief Brahmin to hear our fate decided. We refused to salaam to him, and our guards failed in their attempts to force us to do so. They were commanded to desist at last, and then the chief Brahmin rose, and, holding up his arm in a threatening manner, addressed us, saying:—

"The Feringhees have entered the temple of Shiva, whose representation is bound to the Brahmin's arm. Within this mighty edifice stands the great image of Nadhir, which we honour because Shiva permitted him to bow down our once prostrate nation to the dust. Within these sacred walls your footsteps have wrought profanation, and may bring upon us the vengeance of Shiva if we do not show our abhorrence of your deed. To efface the stain upon the temple blood must be shed even when the sun rises tomorrow. To-night ye may live, for we may not take life in the hours that are given for the restoration of men. Think ye well of this, for surely death is nigh unto both. I have spoken."

We looked for a moment in blank surprise at each other. In a few hours' time we were to die, although we had made no attempt to carry out the purpose for which we entered the temple! The sentence, according to our ideas of justice, was palpably absurd. Then Denviers remarked quietly to me:—

"I suppose we must submit, for argument with these Brahmins is, of course, out of the question. There are a few hours still left, and it will not be our fault if we do not escape them yet. I wonder if they will let us spend the night together or mean to keep us apart."

"The latter, I expect," was the reply I made. "They will be afraid to give us the opportunity to outwit them." My conjecture was, however, erroneous, for soon after the Brahmins rose, and forming into a line, moved away to another part of the temple with a slow and majestic tread, chanting as they did so a low refrain, which sounded ominously upon our ears. It seemed like a funeral dirge sung for their two most unwilling victims!

"Now," said Denviers, "if you see the slightest chance, don't hesitate to throw yourself on these rascally Hindu guards. Remember it is for our lives that we have to contend."

The guards were, however, not inclined to give us the opportunity which we wished for. They turned suddenly upon us, unarmed as we were, and formed an angle across our bodies with their swords by placing the points against the wall and crossing the blades much like a pair of shears look when opened out.

While the four guards effectually prevented us in this way from moving—for had we done so the finely-tempered blades would have gashed us terribly—two other guards entered and bound us securely. A pile of matting was then flung upon the floor for us to rest upon, we were thrust upon it, and then the door was shut and barred upon us from the outside. We were immured safely enough until our gaolers came for us, it appeared, and the next morning would in all probability see the end of our lives.

"How do you think they will kill us?" I asked my companion. "Do you think they will use their swords upon us?"

"I have not the slightest idea," he responded. "Very likely they will strangle us. It is not a very inviting prospect, certainly; if Hassan were here he would say that it was Kismet, and could not be avoided. I expect he is in a great state of excitement because we have not returned."

We lay there and conversed for some time; then, from the silence which Denviers suddenly maintained, I found that, notwithstanding the fate in store for us, he had sunk into a calm sleep, and before long I had followed his example, resting peacefully until the occurrence of a strange event.