They left the looking-glass behind.
The ox-cart passed out creaking, in its turn, beyond the earthworks of the English encampment into the city, where the mutinous natives stood in sullen curious groups to watch the train go by.

A hundred yards through the narrow streets, choked with the smell of gunpowder and populous with vultures, and Abdul heard a quick voice in his ear.

When he turned, none were speaking, but he recognised in the crowd the lowering indifferent face of a sepoy he knew--one of the Nana Sahib's servants.

Saying nothing, he fell back for Tooni and laid his hand upon her arm.

And when the cart creaked out of the town into the crowded, dusty road that led down to the ghat, neither Abdul nor Tooni were in the riotous crowd that pressed along with it.