Sometimes in the course of the day, veiled ladies would issue in groups
from the palace, attended by black slaves with drawn scimitars. They
passed without unveiling across the point where the slaves were at work,
and all were forbidden on pain of death to look up, or even to approach
the konak or pavilion, where the ladies threw aside their veils, and
enjoyed the scent and sight of the flowers, the splash of murmuring
waters, and the strains of music touched by skilful hands.

Although Cuthbert wondered in his heart what these strange wrapped-up
figures might look like when the veils were thrown back, he certainly did
not care enough about the matter to run any risk of drawing the anger of
his guards upon himself by raising his eyes towards them; nor did he ever
glance up at the palace, which was also interdicted to the slaves. From
the lattice casements during the day the strains of music and merry
laughter often came down to the captives; but this, if anything, only
added to the bitterness of their position, by reminding them that they
were shut off for life from ever hearing the laughter of the loved ones
they had left behind.

For upwards of a month Cuthbert remained steadily at work, and during
that time no possible plan of escape had occurred to him, and he had
indeed resigned himself to wait, either until, as he hoped, the city
would be taken by the Christians, or until he himself might be removed
from his present post and sent into the country, where, although his
lot would doubtless be far harder, some chance of escape might open
before him.

One night, long after slumber had fallen upon the city, Cuthbert was
startled by hearing his door open. Rising to his feet, he saw a black
slave, and an old woman beside him. The latter spoke first in the