VI
"BE still, _effendi_!"
It was no more than a whisper, but it pierced Herne's understanding as a
burst of light through a rent curtain.
He opened his eyes wide.
"Hassan!" he said faintly.
"I am here, _effendi._" Very cautiously came the answer, and in the
dimness a figure familiar to him stooped over Herne.
Herne tried to raise himself and failed with a groan. It was as if a
red-hot knife had stabbed his shoulder.
"What happened?" he said.
"The _effendi_ is wounded," the Arab made answer. "We are the prisoners
of the Mullah. The Wandis would have slain us, but he saved us alive.
Doubtless they will mutilate us presently as they are mutilating the
rest."
Herne set his teeth.
"What is this Mullah like?" he asked, after a moment.
"A man small of stature, _effendi_, but very fierce, with the visage of
a devil. The Wandis fear him greatly. When he looks upon them with anger
they flee."
Herne's eyes were striving to pierce the gloom.
"Where on earth are we?" he said.
"It is the Mullah's dwelling-place, _effendi_, at the gate of the City
of Stones. None may enter or pass out without his knowledge.
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