The swordpoint pricked still deeper.
"My son!" said the High Priest.
"A life for a life! Lead on!"
The High Priest surrendered, with a dark and cunning look, though,
that hinted at something or other in reserve. He pulled at a piece
of carving on the wail behind and pointed to a stair that showed behind
the outswung door. Then he plucked another priest by the sleeve and
whispered.
The priest passed on the whisper. A third priest turned and ran.
"That way!" said the High Priest, pointing.
"I? Nay! I go not down!" He raised his voice into an ululating
howl. "O Suliman!" he bellowed. "Suliman! O!--Suliman! Bring up
the heaven-born!"
A growl like the distant rumble from a bear-pit answered him. Then
Ruth Bellairs' voice was heard calling up the stairway.
"Is that you, Mahommed Khan?"
"Ay, memsahib!"
"Good! I'm coming!"
She had recovered far enough to climb the ladder and the steep stone
stair above it, and Suliman climbed up behind her, grumbling dreadful
prophecies of what would happen to the priests now that Mohammed Khan
had come.
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