The big beam lifted on her hands with barely more effort than was needed to lift up the water-jar; the door opened a little way, and she tried, while she passed the water in, to peer through the darkness at the prisoner.

But there were no windows to that cell, and such dim light as there was came from behind her.
"They have bound me, sahiba, in this corner," groaned Jaimihr.

"I cannot reach it.

Take it away again! The certainty that it is there and out of reach is too great torture!" So she slipped in through the door, leaving it open a little way--both her hands busy with the brass pitcher and both eyes straining their utmost through the gloom--advancing step by step through mouldy straw that might conceal a thousand horrors.
"You wonder, perhaps, why I do not escape!" said a voice.

And then she heard the cell door close again gently.
Now she could see Jaimihr, for he stood with his back against the door, and his head was between her and the little six-inch grating that was all the ventilation or light a prisoner in that place was allowed.
"So you lied to me, even when I brought you water ?" she answered.