Suddenly there was a wild outcry outside.  Loud cries, the shouts of men, the terrifying trumpeting of an elephant, resounded through the courtyard below and echoed weirdly from the walls of the buildings.  A piercing shriek of agony rang high above the tumult of sound and chilled the blood of the listeners in the lounge.

Payne tore fiercely at the stiff wooden shutters of the window near him, which led out to the long balcony.  Suddenly they burst open and he sprang out.

“Good God!” he cried in horror.  “Look!  Look!  Dermot’s done for!”

* * * * *

The soldier had followed Rama, who led him through an unfamiliar part of the Palace along low passages, down narrow winding staircases, through painted rooms, in some of which female garments flung carelessly on the cushions seemed to indicate that they were passing through a portion of the zenana.  Finally they reached a marble-paved hall on the ground-floor, where two attendants, the first persons whom they had seen on their way, lounged near a small door.  They were evidently the porters and appeared to expect them, for they opened the door at Rama’s approach.  Through it Dermot followed his guide out into the courtyard on which he had often looked from the balcony of his room.  He looked up at the lounge, two stories above his head, its long casements shuttered against the heat.  Then he noticed that in none of the buildings surrounding the court were there any windows lower than the second story, and the only entrance into it from the Palace was the small door through which he had just passed.  Almost at the moment he stepped into the courtyard a familiar sound greeted his ears.  It was the trumpeting of an elephant.  But there was a strange note of rage and excitement in it, and he thought of the remarks of the mahouts the previous day on the return from the Moti Mahal.  Probably the must elephant of which they spoke was chained somewhere close by.

As he crossed the courtyard he chanced to glance up at the shuttered windows of the apartments which he had been told were occupied by the Rajah.  At that moment one of them was opened and a white cloth waved from it by an unseen hand.  He wondered was it a signal.  He stooped to fasten a bootlace, and Rama, who was making for the gateway in the high wall forming the fourth side of the courtyard, called impatiently to him to hasten.  The servant’s tone was impertinent, and Dermot looked up in surprise.

Then suddenly Hell broke loose.  From the direction in which they were proceeding came fierce shouts of men, yells of terror, and the angry trumpeting of an elephant mingled with the groaning of iron dragged over stone and the crashing of splintered wood.  Rama, who was a few yards ahead, turned and ran past the white man, his face livid.  Dermot looked after him in surprise.  The man had dashed back to the little door and was beating on it madly with his fists.  It was opened to admit him and then hastily closed.  The soldier heard the rusty bolts grinding home in their sockets.