Take him, slaves, and be quick about it." Ere the words were out of his mouth a stalwart man bent to lift the sleeping Heir-to-Empire.

Roy's sword flashed the same second, but, held back by sneering men, he was helpless.
"What want ye with him?
I say, what want ye with him ?" panted the poor lad as he struggled madly.
Kumran paused at the door to turn an icy cold look of cruelty upon him.
"What! Thou wouldst know?
Then thou shalt have it, young idolater.

It may cool thy hot blood.

I will dress him in dust colour like the walls of Kabul and hang him over the battlement at dawn as a mark for my brother's artillery.

Then we shall see the breach in my citadel made! Then we shall see my revenge--but it will not be of my making! His father shall kill him." So with a mirthless laugh he followed his men, who were bearing away the Heir-to-Empire, still but half awake.
Roy stood for one second like a stone, too horror stricken for full belief; but the echoing laugh convinced him; with a wild cry he rushed to the narrow window and shook fruitlessly at its iron bars like a wild animal when it is newly caged.