Then, very gradually and cautiously, Sunni slipped over the balcony's edge and let himself down, down, till he reached a branch thick enough to cling to.

The turban was none too long, the branches at the top were so slender.

Just as he grasped a thick one, clutching it with both arms and legs, and swaying desperately in the dark, he felt a rush of wings across his face, and a great white owl flew out hooting in her panic.

The boy almost missed his catch with fear, and the Maharajah, wakeful in his apartments, lost another good hour's sleep through hearing the owl's cry.

It was the worst of omens, the Maharajah believed, and sometimes he believed it with less reason.
As quickly as he dared, Sunni let himself down branch by branch till he reached the level of the wall.