Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

"I resolved, if I could, to save my life, even at this moment, to live for _vengeance_. I watched every movement of our destroyers. I knew every dialect of the Indian language, and listened to every syllable they said. You know the story how, there and in cold blood, close to the well they shot us. At the instant the word of command was given, while the finger pressed the trigger, I sprang round and fell on my face unhurt. I feebly beat the ground with my feet, and then lay still.

"I heard groans, a few more shots, and then stillness. They came to me; one fellow turned me over and felt in my pockets. I had nothing; they tore open my shirt and took from my neck a light gold chain, with a locket containing Miss Lindsay's miniature. I would have given worlds to have jumped up, snatched the locket from him, and served him as I had served the butcher's brother; but I wanted a wider vengeance, and I restrained myself. To them I was dead. The fellow who had taken the locket kicked me disdainfully, and made a scurrilous remark about the Mem Sahib whose face he saw in it; but, even under that provocation, I was able to control myself.

"I knew, I felt, I should be able to take vengeance; how, I did not try to think, but I was certain of it; and I lay calm--calm as one who knows that nothing will stand between him and the desire of his heart. At length they went away and left us as we lay.

"That night, when all was still, and I only heard the howlings of the jackals without the walls, I began to think it time to make a move. I had lain for hours in the terrible sun--my limbs were racked by an agonising cramp, a maddening thirst parched my throat and vitals, my lips and tongue were baked and cracked, and my first movement gave me pain unspeakable; then as I moved again I heard a stealthy step, and a voice said very softly--

"'Is any Sahib or Mem Sahib alive?'

"I lay still. I knew the infernal treachery of these demons only too well, and gave no sign. In another moment I felt a hand on my breast. I controlled myself, I held my breath, but I could not still the beating of my heart. A voice whispered, as if of a person talking to himself--

"'This poor Sahib lives.'

"Then my head was raised, and in spite of my clenched teeth a few drops of some stimulant was forced into my mouth--which, cracked and parched, tasted nothing--I only felt the burning sensation of some powerful spirit.

"'Drink, sir,' said the voice; 'I am your friend; it will restore your strength.'

"I ventured to open my eyes. I saw bending over me a venerable form, and the face of a Brahmin I had seen before.

"'Do not fear, sir; I am Nanukchund; I have no part with these murderous men. But let us not talk; I will take you and hide you if it is possible that you can walk, but we must not be seen.'

"The thought of the possibility of living for the vengeance which had kept me alive through the horrors of that day nerved me afresh; the cramping pains that shot agony through my frame were forgotten; I almost stood upright, but Nanukchund pulled me down.

"'In the name of Budda, caution,' he whispered; 'there may be some who look; if I am seen it will be thought (and he shuddered) that I plunder the dead; but if you, then death will come for both. See, I go to the shadow of yonder house; lie still for a moment, and then crawl like the snake until you reach it; but first drink.'

"I drank, and the fire ran through my veins, and renewed my strength. He, looking to the right and to the left and crouching, soon gained the shadow he had indicated. After the lapse of what seemed an age, I began to crawl thither too, with pain and difficulty indescribable. At length I stood beside my rescuer.

"'Not yet are you safe,' said he, and from underneath his garments he produced a bundle. 'Put on this.' I unfolded it, and found a garment similar to his own, with cloth for a turban.

"In a few moments I had become a native. The bronze of my face, with added dust and blood, made my complexion dark as his own. In a few words I told him I was Captain Gascoyne of the 53rd.

"'Then,' said he, quickly, 'you can speak as one of us, and none can know any difference.' From that moment, except on three occasions, I have spoken no English until now.

"Proceeding with infinite caution, once or twice scanned by straggling mutineers, all of whom were more or less under the influence of bhang, we at length reached his house, a secluded one by the river. There for some days I lay in a stupor of sleep, yet with the one idea of vengeance running like a dark thread through my slumbers, in which I saw again my poor girl's fair hair clotted with blood, and felt it clinging round my neck and face.

"When my weary limbs and brain were rested, I was able to talk to Nanukchund, my preserver. He told me much that of course you know--of the outbreak, of the excesses of the mutineers, which he deplored, for he knew how the reckoning would be, and that he was the friend of the Sahibs, and after we had been shot down, came to see if life remained in any of us.

"He was a far-sighted man, and he knew that the yoke these fiends were trying to throw off would be only the more strongly riveted round their necks, and he knew that the English raj was more wise, more just and merciful, than the divided tyrannies of their own Princes. One day he came to the room where I lay, and, with tears running down his face, told me with terror, lest I should rise up and slay him because of his kinship with such demons, of the massacre of the women and children by the order of the bastard Raja of Bithoor, Nana Sahib--how the Sepoys, commanded to shoot them, thrust their guns through the windows, and fired a volley over their heads, and then, sickened of the horror, refused to have anything more to do with it; and no one at first could be found to carry out the brute's orders, until at last Survur Khan, the butcher--the same who had killed my little Madge--volunteered for the murderous job. Then another monster was found, and with swords they went into the slaughter pen, Survur coming out to replace one sword he had broken, by another."

At this point of Gascoyne's narrative, so the Captain told me, the Colonel cried out, "For God's sake, stop," and got up and went out of the tent, and Gascoyne said--

"Yes, I remember; he lost a wife and a little girl there."

And then the Captain and the Subaltern understood the Colonel's silence generally, and his fierce anger when he did speak of those days.

It was the next day before Gascoyne resumed his story.

"After Nanukchund's story," he went on, "a dull feeling of hatred, mingled with my purpose of vengeance, took possession of me; and though I loathed the sight of a black face, I found myself under the necessity of assuming one myself. With great care I stained myself all over, and at length both Nanukchund and I were satisfied that my disguise was perfect.

"Some of our men had spent months among the natives undetected; and my own perfect knowledge of the languages spoken in the Gangetic districts, and of the habits and customs of the people, rendered me secure. To Nanukchund I said nothing of my project. So far as he knew, I was only going to join my countrymen where-ever I could find them in force. I said good-bye to him, and promised, when things were settled, he should be gratefully remembered, and I gave him a letter that should have insured his safety in case our people laid hands on him. The next day I was one amongst the ruffians who had butchered my comrades and my countrywomen. That very night I had a chance of killing Survur Khan the butcher. I found him drunk in the doorway of a deserted house. No one was near. I dragged him inside. He laid like a log on the floor. I stood over him, and was about to plunge my knife into his heart, but I reflected.

"He would die insensible to his end; he would not know why he died. So I altered my mind, and on his forehead I made two deep incisions in the form of a cross. The brute moved and groaned, but he was too far under the influence of bhang to be conscious. When I next saw him, although the wound was covered by his turban, I knew by the look in his eyes there was a terror in his heart, which would remain with him until his hour came. The next day Nana retreated on Bithoor, accompanied by the Begum. Then after Futtehpore he retreated with about 3,000 followers into Nepaul, whither I accompanied him."

"From this," said the Colonel, "nothing certain of him was known."

"You shall hear now," said Gascoyne, and continued--

"From the first, dissensions and quarrels arose, which, with desertions, soon reduced their followers to half their number. With the remainder, for nearly two years Nana lived like an outlaw, moving from place to place, his followers slowly diminishing in numbers, from desertion and deaths, disease and hunger, for provisions were terribly scarce and dear. Nana and the Begum were both carried, whenever a move was made, in dhoolies, but now it began to be difficult to find bearers; and here my great opportunity opened for me.

"With the money supplied to me by Nanukchund I paid certain of the ablest-bodied bearers to become my servants. These I humbly placed at the Rajah's disposal. With gratitude he accepted my offer, for he looked with the anticipation of terror toward the time when he might be compelled to walk, for his obesity was now so great, as also was the Begum's, and his Oriental hatred of exertion was so pronounced, that death would almost be preferable. I kept my bearers fed and ready at his will, and I became his favoured slave, but I laughed in my heart, for I was preparing his sacrifice.

"After another year of wandering, the word spread of a great reward offered by the English Government for the Nana, dead or alive, also of pardon for all not actually guilty of murder. Then a conspiracy among the hundred or so followers left was set on foot to earn the reward, but, still determined to feed my unsatisfied vengeance, I betrayed it to the Rajah, and, heading those who were still faithful to him, I fell on the conspirators the night before their projected outbreak, and slaughtered them to a man; and no word can paint the fierce joy I felt as my sword found its sheath in the hearts of the murderous villains. Our numbers now scarcely reached 50, amongst whom was Survur Khan. This man's life had now become a terror to him. I haunted his sleeping and his waking hours. I always made him feel that Nemesis hovered near. He had long ago found that I knew of the scar on his forehead.

"'How comes it, brother,' I had asked him, 'that you have the sign of the Christian on your forehead?'

"At first he eyed me askance, and was surly; then, after, he told me how, waking from his orgie, he had found himself thus marked. I said, 'Then surely some accursed Feringhee has marked you, that he may know you again one day.'

"'Nay,' he answered, 'that cannot be, for none were left alive in Cawnpore at the time.'

"'No, nor any women or children, as you know. See!' I cried, thrusting back his turban, 'See! thy scar is white and livid! It is some god of the Feringhees who has marked thee for his vengeance.'

"Thereafter his life was hell. And so we wandered again--how long I cannot tell--months, years--I don't know--until at last there were left, besides the Nana and the Begum, only three or four more who performed menial offices, and myself. Then a tiger killed two of these, and the other two ran away.

"For me, I had become lean and burnt to almost Indian blackness. They did not suspect me. I had carefully kept my weapons in order, and I was now master of the situation.

"One night, after the last two men had gone, Nana, whose inability to walk had become a real terror, told us we must remain in the clearing by the river bank where we were, and there live.

"That night, while they slept, I waked, and without awakening them I bound them all, so that when they woke they would be unable to move more than a hand. Then I went to the river and cleansed myself as thoroughly as I could, and, secure in my preparations, lay down and slept soundly. Shortly after, I heard Nana's voice calling me. I rose, and my eye fell on Survur Khan. He knew his hour had come; he was livid with fear; he did not know who had bound him--he only knew he was unable to move. He saw me--he saw the expression in my eyes--it was enough. Then I passed to where the Nana and Begum lay. He demanded what this meant.

"'Get up,' I said, 'and you shall know.'

"Shaking with fear, the Begum stood upright. I led them to the opening. When they saw Survur Khan they turned ashen grey.

"'See,' I cried in English, 'you three, I am an English officer. All this time I have followed you, helped you, fed you, shielded you in danger, that I might avenge on you the murder of the woman I loved, and of my countrywomen, with my own hand. Look,' I cried, tearing off Survur Khan's head covering, 'ask him where he got that scar. He does not know, but I can tell you. I found him drunk and could have killed him, but I put my mark on him instead. Directly, you shall see what I have saved him for. I was one of those whom you shot down after you took us from the boats, but I feigned death and escaped.'

"The fear of death was on them all. The Begum and Nana grovelled at my feet; they offered me countless gems, they would tell me where they were hidden, if I would but let them live--only spare their lives. I could not mean to kill them in cold blood--I was an Englishman.

"I let them go on until they had exhausted themselves with cries and tears and entreaties, and then I said, 'I do not mean to kill you yet, but that you may feel certain of your end, see this man die. He dashed out the brains of my lover while she lay in my arms. The death he gave her is now meted out to himself.'

"Survur Khan was now a shaking jelly of fear. I went to him, and, with a mace I had always carried, struck him full and fair on the scar. So perished the butcher of our sisters.

"Then commenced the penance of the other two. To walk a hundred yards was pain and misery to them, but for two hours I made them walk; when they would have stayed, a prick from the point of my knife urged them on, and groaning and stumbling they went forward.

"That evening when I drove them back to the little clearing they knew what hunger, thirst, and fatigue were. Their clothes were already in rags, their feet bleeding and sore.

"The corpse of Survur Khan lay there. The crows had been busy on it.

"'Look,' I cried; 'as his fate was, so shall yours be.'

"They groaned, and falling on the ground lay there stunned with the horror of their situation.

"'Henceforth you are my slaves,' I continued. 'Get up and throw that fellow into the river.' They hesitated, but the point of the knife persuaded them, and they in shuddering disgust did as I commanded.

THE MONUMENT OVER THE CAWNPORE WELL.

(This was the well into which the bodies of the massacred women and children were thrown.)]

"Then I fed them sparingly with rice and water, and the next day they recommenced their pilgrimage. In spite of their cries and groans I drove them like cattle.

"Day after day, month after month, I drove them until they were reduced to the shadows of what they were, and then I began to think it time they died. I was aweary of my own vengeance.

"Long before, I had found a young panther cub. As it grew it evinced a strange love for me. No dog that ever attached itself to a man could have been more absolutely devoted to him than the panther to me. In proportion as it loved me, so it hated my victims. In all our trampings it followed at my heels. At night I had to fasten it up, or it would have forestalled me.

"Now I began to brood what should be their end.

"I hesitated, and for a time almost wavered. After all, the Begum was a woman, and I could not kill a woman, though both she and the other had entreated me to do so a hundred times, for the fatigue and hunger and sleeplessness I subjected them to had made such a horror of their lives, that, curs as they were, death seemed preferable. Moreover I never ceased to remind them of their hellish deeds, and I embittered their every hour by recalling to them how I had waited for those hours, and of their certain deaths.

"While I hesitated, his master the devil put it into the Nana's head to help me. He saw and divined my hesitation.

"One day he stood before me, gaunt and starving.

"'You cannot kill her,' he said.

"'No,' I replied, 'she is a woman.'

"A hideous sneer made his gaunt jaws horrible.

"'I will kill her if you will let me go.'

"There he was, devil to the last. He trembled with the eagerness of anticipated freedom.

"'Go,' I said. He hesitated, but my look was firm, and he went.

"Once or twice since their fat was gone they had attempted to escape, but the last time I lashed the man unmercifully, and said if they tried to escape again I would let the panther deal with them. That cowed them thoroughly, and thenceforward they hung on every glance of my eye.

"But their enforced marchings were no longer such a terror as they had been, and I determined to make an end. But while I thought of it he came before me again.

"'Master,' he said, 'let me kill her; give me my life for hers.'

"I did not reply, neither did my glance forbid him. I could only think of Margaret, with the blood on her fair hair. I turned from him without a word.

"'Master,' he said again, 'will you set me free if I do?'

"He turned and left me. I sat on the river bank and waited. In half an hour he returned and said--

"'Master, come and see.' And I followed him to a small open space in the jungle. What had been the Begum, lay there cold and still. The arch-villain had strangled her.

"I made a sign to the panther. With a bound he was on him; and the head that had conceived the horrors of Cawnpore cracked between the panther's teeth. My vengeance was complete.

"After that, it seems, I must have wandered for years, until you found me. I remember nothing, except that the panther was always with me."

* * * * *

When he had finished his story he lay back and closed his eyes, and then sank into a stupor. From this all the Subaltern's medicinal arts could not rouse him.

The next day at dawn he cried out, and they all ran to him.

"Carry me to the jungle edge," he said, "the end has come."

They carried him, and laid him on a mattress, for he could not stand.

Then he raised his voice in a shrill and piercing cry, that echoed through the jungle.

A dead silence followed.

Then again, as if in an expiring effort, he raised another cry, louder and shriller, and more prolonged than the other.

Then, far off in the gloomy depths of the jungle, a dull muffled roar responded.

They waited, and once again Gascoyne sent up the cry.

Then the leaves of the jungle parted, and a panther, black and mangy, but with the fierce light still alive in the topaz eyes, bounded to the side of the recumbent figure, and began to lick its face, snarling at the three men.

Gascoyne lifted his hand, and the great beast crouched beside him. And so the group remained while a man might have counted twenty. Then Gascoyne raised himself, and stretched out his arms, as if to someone at the foot of his couch, "Madge, Madge," he cried hoarsely, "I am coming," and so fell back and moved no more.

* * * * *

They buried him that evening with the panther, which they had been compelled to shoot.

It was very old, its teeth and claws were worn to stumps; and how they had lived together, and whether the beast had hunted for the man, or the man for the beast, none ever knew.

THE MOST REMARKABLE FORTRESS IN THE WORLD.

SOME ADVENTURES IN SCALING ITS WALLS.

BY PERCY L. PARKER.

Perhaps the most remarkable rock in the world is to be found in the centre of the Island of Ceylon, and its story is full of romance. It was fortified 1,400 years ago to shelter a cowardly parricide, and when he died it became a Buddhist monastery. But for centuries no human foot rested on its summit; it was the abode of silence; its walls were buried beneath the dust of ages, birds built their nests on it and the beasts of the field haunted the jungle which grew about its base.

Now British officials have scaled its walls, excavated its ruins, and revealed the ancient splendour of the place, and so doing have discovered that this rock fortress is one of the most wonderful pieces of engineering of ancient times.

It is called the Sigiri or Lion Rock, and lies fourteen miles north-east of Dambutta. It is cylindrical in shape, and rises up nearly 600 feet sheer from the ground, while the area of the summit is little over an acre. Its scarped walls are nearly perpendicular, and in some places they overhang their base.

Recent excavation shows that all round the foot of the rock there was a fortified city, surrounded by a moat. But the most wonderful feature of this fortress was the terrace, ornamented with lions, which ran round the north face of the rock at its smallest diameter. At one part it stood upon the rock which projected below, and at the same time was protected by that part which overhung it. The terrace then zig-zagged up the rock at an easy gradient, and so gave access to its otherwise inaccessible summit, to which, in the last resort, the fugitive intended to flee.

One hundred yards of this terrace still remains, and its structure of several courses of brick can clearly be seen in one of the photographs, while the grooves in the rock show where the rest of it ran. Professor Davids says that the path was on the top of a solid brick wall, four or five feet broad, which was carried along the face of the cliff. "The cliff being perpendicular, this wall had to descend far below the path before it found a resting-place on the edge of the rock. As the path was gradually carried forward and upward, a line was dropped from it to the rock beneath, and where the line first touched the cliff--however far below--a flat place was scooped out, large enough to support a single brick. This was done along the whole breadth of the path, and then the solid wall was built up to the requisite height, while some of the outer rows of bricks were carried high enough to form a wall breast high on the outer side."

Half way up the rock, or 160 feet from the ground, was another extraordinary feature. There can be seen, by means of a telescope, in two caves or pockets some vividly painted frescoes. How they were painted in such a position no one knows; but, despite their clearness of outline and freshness of colour, it is certain that they were painted by artists 1,400 years ago.

But though we do not know how these frescoes were painted so long ago, thrilling stories can be told of how two artists made copies of them not long since.

Mr. Alick Murray, of the Ceylon Civil Service, was requested by the Governor of the Island to make an attempt to reach these frescoes, and he succeeded in an amazing manner. The first part of the way lay through the forest, which was cleared with billhooks by the natives. At the outset the resident chiefs and local population would have nothing to do with the disturbance of a rock chamber which they believed to be inhabited and protected by demons, so Tamils had to be brought from India.

Three Tamil stone-cutters bored holes in the rock face, one above the other, and therein placed iron "jumpers," which were secured with cement. To these wooden staging was lashed. "The man of lightest weight," says Mr. Murray, "was selected to make the necessary holes, but after a while even he declared that it was impossible for him to ascend any higher. But he said that if he were allowed to devote three days to fasting and prayer to his gods, he thought he might succeed, and so he did.

"But when the pocket was at last reached it was found that the floor was at too steep an angle to admit of anyone standing or even sitting on it. Iron stanchions were therefore let into the floor, and a strong trestle or framework made secure to them. On this framework was placed a platform, and from the platform the work of tracing thirteen of the frescoes in the biggest cave was carried out."

Mr. Murray's task was surely unique. From sunrise to sunset for a week he did his copying lying on his back.

"Below me," he says, "was a sheer drop of 160 feet. The wind at times was terrific, and I literally held my breath as some blast swept into and around the chamber, and ruthlessly tore and carried off the work of hours. On one occasion a blast fiercer than the rest shook the platform to its very base, and the lashings, slackened by the dryness of the atmosphere, allowed the platform to sink suddenly a few inches, when its downward progress was happily arrested by the bracing underneath. The only inmates of the chamber were swallows, who occasionally pecked at me resentfully."

The frescoes are life-size figures of women, arranged singly or in sets of two. Each couple represents a mistress and maid, the maid wearing in each case a jacket exactly similar to that used by Tamil girls to-day.

When Mr. Murray had finished his work it was suggested that it would be a good thing to leave something in the "pocket," in the shape of a memento. A bottle was therefore obtained, and in it papers of the day and local coins were placed. As he was leaving with his companions a Buddhist priest asked to be allowed to pray for the preservation of the bottle, and while he prayed Mr. Murray and his companions sang "God save the Queen," by way of dedication--a characteristically British proceeding.

Mr. Murray's tracings caused so much interest in the wonderful Rock Fortress, that the Government of Ceylon instructed its Archæological Commissioner, Mr. H. C. P. Bell, to survey and excavate it--a work of much adventure. Hair-breadth escapes inevitably occurred, and all the time the work was in hand Mr. Bell declares that he was on mental "tenter-hooks."

He first reached the top of the rock by means of jungle wood ladders (such as those shown in the photos) and six-inch grooves cut in the rock. But once up, iron ladders and an iron rail were fixed so that constant ascent and descent could be made.

During the first fortnight the workers were attacked by swarms of bees, which drove them from the rock. These had to be burned out before the work could proceed. But the greatest trial was the dreadful heat of the sun, from which there was no shelter. The work began at 6.30 in the morning and continued till 3 o'clock, and 8½ hours in the scorching sun, day after day, and week after week, was no light task. The whole day was spent aloft, for too much time would have been wasted if "lunch" had been "served" below. Fortunately a big cistern was discovered at the top, from which beautiful water could be obtained.

When the first prejudice had died away, plenty of workers could be found, and sometimes over a hundred of them were at work and swarmed up the rock with as little excitement as English workmen pass through their factory door.

The top was found to be covered with forest trees and a dense undergrowth, neck high, so a gang of Singhalese were engaged to burn them down. When the summit was excavated it was found that buildings covered it to the very edge of the cliff, and every basketful of earth had therefore to be spilt over the side of the rock--otherwise it would have to be moved twice over. The depth of earth cutting varied from five to twenty feet, and when the whole area was cleared the plan of the long lost buildings was easily seen, virtually as perfect as when first laid out. The natives declared that there was a passage from the summit into the bowels of the rock, but that is not the case.

"The rooms and courtyards," says Mr. Bell, "stretch the whole length of the ridge, in generally ascending tiers, from the small chamber directly above the rock cistern at the south to the penultimate and uppermost room near the north end. All are oblong, and all--or nearly all--the chambers had corridors completely round them.

"Many passages were paved throughout with quartz slabs; though much of this choice pavement has been displaced by the waste of centuries, or from being deliberately put to other uses by Buddhist monks when the fortune of war found them located in the 'marble halls' of royalty."

Even around the summit of this inaccessible rock a remarkable wall was built. It rose from the brink of the precipice, for its foundations were some feet and even yards below the level of the summit.

Accompanying Mr. Bell on this expedition was Mr. D. A. L. Perera, whose purpose was to paint in oils facsimiles of all the frescoes in both caves. Both were anxious to photograph the two pockets at a distance, and, as they could not stand in the air, a four-inch hawser was lowered from the summit of the rock to the ground, and a strong iron block bound to the end. Through the block a new two-inch rope was passed, and an improvised chair firmly tied to it, and in this the photographer took his seat. The hawser was then pulled halfway up to the west rock till the chair was over 150 feet from the ground and 50 feet clear of the cliff. Swaying in mid-air through the force of the wind, the photographer exposed his negative, but as the shutter worked too slowly the pictures taken were more or less blurred.

Mr. Perera then decided to do an oil painting of the pockets to scale while swinging at the end of the rope, and after rocking in space for a week succeeded in his task. But the exposure day after day to the intense glare of the rock's summit affected his eyesight, and he was compelled to take complete rest for some weeks.

One of our photographs shows Mr. Perera at work. Thirteen of the pictures were painted from the floor of the cave; to do the others "it was necessary to construct a cantilever of jungle timber firmly lashed to a stout iron cramp let into the rock floor. To the extremity of this projection was tied a rough 'cage' of sticks; and from this uncomfortable and perilous perch the loftiest fresco was made." This was painting "in the open" with a vengeance.

Enormous difficulty was experienced in painting the frescoes in the small cave (which was only three feet wide) and in getting to that cave from the other. The ledge between them was only a cubit in width. But by paying special remuneration Mr. Bell got some men to risk their lives in making a "stick shelf." One-inch iron bars supported the woodwork, which was banded strongly to thick iron cramped into the rock. But in addition it was held up by a central hawser, and side ropes hauled taut round trees on the summit of the rock nearly 300 feet up. When finished this improvised platform stood out from the cliff 15 feet horizontally!

In these wonderful, dangerous, and eerie open-air studios, Mr. Perera spent nineteen weary weeks painting on canvas a complete set of the 22 frescoes which were first painted 1,400 years ago. These are marvellous in their faithfulness and colour.

Before Mr. Perera began to paint the frescoes, iron standards 3 feet 4 inches in height, with a single top rail, were driven along the edge of both pockets and the connecting ledge between them; for without such handrail a slip on the smooth inclined floor of the pocket would have meant instant death on the rocks below.

Yet another adventure was the outcome of this exciting survey, and Mr. Bell vividly tells the tale. "High up on the eastern face of the rock," he says, "may be noticed a dark streak betokening caves, and these we resolved to survey. But the rock scarp below them being nowhere less than 30 degrees in slope, and in places sheer, ascent without the aid of a rope was impossible. The four-inch hawser was therefore let down to the ground as before over the brow of the caves.

"Up this stout rope half a dozen of the strongest and most sure-headed coolies swarmed to the apparent mouth of the caves. The measured distance was 294 feet, climbed hand over hand the whole way up. But arriving at this height they found that they were 50 feet distant from the caves and still below their floor, with no means of getting nearer, owing to the projecting crag above, and the rope's own weight keeping it taut.

"Ultimately a brave Singhalese lad with a light rope round his waist swung himself on to the rock as high as he could, and crawled crocodile fashion the rest of the way up the steep smooth slope while the men held the other end of the rope. Once in the caves he noosed the rope to a piece of fallen rock, and next day a strong iron ring was driven into the floor, and a hawser passed through it.

"Then Mr. Perera and I made the ascent. The largest cavern was 197 feet long, with a floor width averaging 11 feet. No vegetation grows therein. But we did find under a rock in the cave three eggs of the peregrine falcon, which vary strangely in hue from chocolate to almost white. The eggs of this bird have never been taken in Ceylon before.

"We were grievously disappointed with our search, and had to be content with a bare negative gain--the absolute assurance that the caves contained no trace of previous human occupation. The foot of man never desecrated this sanctuary of the eagle and falcon before. Being virtually inaccessible, it was left to bird and bat and mountain bee. Overhead the beetling crag jutted out forty feet and more, while under foot the rock floor was polished and slippery from untold centuries of wear by the feet of myriads on myriads of birds."

If, however, in years to come an adventurous climber climbs to this chamber of the winds he will find in a niche a sealed record of its daring exploration, and in just such a way the buried buildings on the Sigiri Rock are the record of a crime of 1,400 years ago.

A king of Ceylon was buried alive with his face to the east by his brutal son, who became king in his place. This in its turn was said to be a punishment because the old king buried alive a holy man who was in his way when building a great tank.

But, dreading the revenge of his brother, the young king fortified the Sigiri rock. There he lived for eighteen miserable years, and at the end of that time his brother came and slew him.

He happened to turn his elephant to avoid a pit, and, thinking he was running away, his people lost heart and the enemy cried out, "They're running away."

Instead of hiding within his fortress, when the critical moment came, the man it was to protect had lost faith in it, and in his misery went out to his last fight.

Our photos were taken by Messrs. Skeen and Co., Colombo.

OVERTAKEN!

_From the Painting by John A. Lomax._]

MY FAIR NEIGHBOUR'S PIANO, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

BY HENRY MARTLEY.

_Illustrated by F. H. Townsend._

When I heard that a lady had taken the flat over mine, I feared the worst. The worst had come. Dum-dum-dum went the throbbing piano above. The former occupants of that flat has possessed a baby which I used to anathematise, but even its merry crowings or midnight howls were better than this.

The lady--an elderly lady of the spinster persuasion--had passed me several times on the stairs, and I heartily wished that Providence had blessed her with a husband and several children to occupy her spare time. If I ever wanted to go into Parliament, I should have only one item in my programme, and that would be to make a licence as necessary for music in a private as in a public house. There it went--dum-dum-dum--with intervals in which that detestable old maid picked up dropped bars as though she were picking up dropped stitches.

Three times I sat down to tackle the Settled Land Acts, and three times I angrily shut the book without having comprehended a single section.

I was going in for my final at the end of six weeks, and the result of the examination would be of considerable importance to me.

My uncle had paid for most of my education, and held out prospects of a partnership, but as time went on his beneficent intentions had lost their keenness, and a failure would produce considerably less likelihood of those prospects becoming actual facts. He was an old gentleman who judged by results, and the creditable results of my life had hitherto been few. A decent place in the Honours List would mean a probability, a prize would mean a certainty, of a comfortable income for life; and if I was to work, that infernal noise must stop. Legal redress I had none, nor would complaint to the landlord be of any use. There were clauses in the leases against keeping canaries, or even window-boxes, but none forbidding pianos. There was only one course open to me, and that was to appeal to the better feelings of the elderly spinster.

At first I thought of writing a note, and made some attempts at composing one, but they were either too violent or too unconvincing, and I felt that in dealing with a person of her description a personal interview would produce better fruit. On considering the matter, I decided that the interview had better take place at once. It was an unconventional hour to call, but I was not certain that I should have the courage to protest except in the heat of indignation, and I had decided on an effective _rôle_. I intended to appeal to her as a hard-working young man whom she was depriving of a livelihood, and to a certain extent to be appealingly distressed.

Armed with these intentions, I mounted the stairs, knocked at the door, and asked for Miss Ormerod, which I had gathered was the lady's name. The servant looked at me a little doubtfully, but finally the piano stopped, and she asked me to come in. I put on my most pathetic expression, and entered. I confronted a lady who had just risen from the piano. With some surprise I noticed that it was not the elderly spinster, but a little damsel of prepossessing attributes, and with big merry-hearted eyes.

"I came to see Miss Ormerod," I explained.

"I am Miss Ormerod," she answered.

I am never a very self-possessed young man, and this sudden upsetting of my plans took me aback. The elderly spinster was obviously only a frequent visitor. It is one thing to appeal pathetically to the better feelings of a lady of advanced years, and another to explain matters to a young damsel.

"I live in the flat down below," I continued, "and I came to call to--er----"

"Came to call?" she answered, with an amused air, and a glance at the clock.

"Not to call in the ordinary way," I stammered, "but I couldn't help it. You see, you were playing the piano, and--and----"

"Wasn't it sufficiently audible down below?" she inquired, chillingly.

"Quite audible," I answered, catching eagerly at the chance of explanation. "In fact it was too audible--that was just it. It's rather disturbing in my flat."

"And may I ask why I am not to play the piano?" she replied. "There was a noise in your flat the night before last considerably less melodious than a piano."

"I suppose there was. Ellis and some other men came to a farewell dinner with me before his departure to India. It shan't occur again," I said; "and you see, I'm reading for my final, and if you could----"

She looked at me somewhat doubtfully.

"The Solicitor's final," I added--it was a fragment of my intended appeal to the elderly spinster--"is a very difficult examination, and requires concentrated attention."

"You're reading for the Solicitor's final?" she exclaimed, with a sudden change of expression. "Oh, then you must know a lot of law."

"That scarcely follows," I began to protest, in some surprise.

"And you can explain to me what a negotiable instrument really is," she went on, delightedly.

I began to think she must be mad.

"I've been trying to make it out since tea time," she said, "and I can't. That's why I was strumming."

"Has something gone wrong with a cheque?" I asked.

"Oh, no," she laughed, "you don't understand. I'm reading law too. I'm going in for an exam at the London University. You won't mind explaining about negotiable instruments, will you, if I promise not to play the piano? Please sit down."

I sat down and explained the matter as lucidly as I could. The explanation took some little time, but though it was nearly eleven when I left, the proceeding seemed to strike her as perfectly natural, and I did not complain, particularly as it meant deliverance from the piano.

The next night, however, I had scarcely settled down when the strumming began once more. After the trouble that I had taken the night before it was ungrateful of the damsel, and she had distinctly promised that the noise should not occur again. I stood it for half an hour, and then went up to make another protest.

"I thought you were never coming," the damsel said, in an aggrieved way; "I want you to tell me the difference between a cheque and a bill of exchange payable at a banker's. Have some tea, won't you?"

I had some tea, and furnished her with further information. We discussed the Bills of Exchange Act at some length. It was a much pleasanter way of imbibing the law than by one's self, and her _vivâ voce_ examination was not without its uses. However, the situation was unconventional, and I had my doubts on its advisability.

The next afternoon, when I came back from the office, I was informed that a lady was waiting to see me. In my room, sitting perpendicularly on the edge of an armchair, was the elderly spinster.

"Is your name Arbuthnot?" she inquired, abruptly and severely.

I admitted the accusation.

"Then, Mr. Arbuthnot," she said, grimly, "I wish to have a word with you. I hear you have been forcing yourself on my niece."

"I beg your pardon?" I said, in astonishment.

"Forcing yourself on that poor misguided child," she continued, "and taking advantage of her folly in the most ungentlemanly way."

"If you mean Miss Ormerod," I answered, "perhaps I might explain."

"Perhaps you might," she replied, acidly.

I told her what had happened, and how the mistake had occurred. I was never very remarkably tactful; and, even if I had been, any other explanation than the truth would have been difficult.

"So you supposed," she answered, "that I should have allowed young men to call on me at a late hour?"

That was rather a poser, and I made no answer.

"Your excuse," she went on, "only confirms my previous opinion of you. You have deliberately forced yourself on a crazy, motherless child, who does not understand the ways of the world, nor, I regret to say, what is due to herself."

"I have done nothing of the kind," I said, indignantly.

"I might have known that it was degrading myself to talk to an attorney's clerk," she said, with an awful emphasis on the last two words. Then she strode away.

That evening the piano began again, but I sat stolidly and endured it. After all, there was something in what the old lady said. The strumming continued for an hour, and then stopped. In a few minutes the servant brought me a note.

"Dear Mr. Arbuthnot,

"I cannot understand when a banker is liable for a forged cheque.

"Yours sincerely,

"MARJORIE ORMEROD."

I wrote back to say that I had had an interview with her aunt, and appended the law on the subject of forged cheques. My note had not been dispatched more than five minutes when a knock came at the door, and Miss Ormerod walked in.

"Mr. Arbuthnot," she said, "will you kindly tell me the meaning of this note?"

"I thought I had made my meaning clear," I answered. "A banker----"

"I was not referring to bankers," she replied, "but to what you say about my aunt."

"I supposed she would have told you," I said. "She did me the honour of visiting me this afternoon, and--well--she suggested that there were conventionalities."

"She's been gossiping with my servant," she exclaimed; "but why do you pay any attention to what she says?"

"You see," I ventured to protest, "there are conventionalities."

"Conventionalities," she replied, firmly, "are some of the things that I do not intend to have in my life. If I were a man, and I wished to--to ask you a polite question about forged cheques, wouldn't you answer it?"

As a matter of fact, if a man had asked for instruction under pain of playing the piano, I think I should have refused; but to say no would have resulted in embarrassing explanations of my previous readiness to enlighten her. So I replied diplomatically--

"Perhaps so."

"Then," she said, "I insist on your coming upstairs at once. You will insult me, Mr. Arbuthnot, if you refuse."

Since she put it in that way, I was compelled to give in, however much I agreed with the old lady. When I had finished my exposition of the law, Miss Ormerod expounded some of her theories of life, with autobiographical illustrations. The fundamental theory seemed to be that a girl ought to be allowed to do anything without taking the consequences. As a deduction from this great truth, she had decided to live alone and become a London University Portia. At one time she had intended to pursue her ambitions at an Oxford college, but inquiry had revealed the fact that the girls there were still in swaddling clothes. It was only in London, and in a flat, that the true woman--she disclaimed the term new woman--could possibly realise herself. Most of her life she had spent in the country, a fact which I might have guessed. One of the main fallacies which the true woman was going to expose, and which had been intruded on her that night, was the notion that no girl could associate with a man without some foolish idea of love-making. This fallacy she denounced vigorously, and, as I thought, with a purpose. It was naturally not a conversation in which I could take much part, and I listened mostly in silence.

The situation was more unpleasant than the piano. It was hard to avoid further interviews, and at the same time I knew that I ought to do so. The little girl had contracted some diseased modern notions, and I had no business to aid and abet her. However, if she persisted in regarding it as an insult for me to do my duty, I saw no alternative but to acquiesce. I could only hope that in future she might find fewer difficulties in the law. In this hope I was disappointed. Regularly for the next fortnight the piano demanded instruction every evening, and with more and more misgiving I obeyed it. The fact was that I felt myself beginning to take a disquieting interest in her, and at the end of the fortnight I acknowledged frankly to myself that, as far as concerned me at least, her favourite fallacy had been proved true.

Matters were in this condition, and were already sufficiently complicated, when a further complication was added to them. Shortly after my arrival home one evening, a person of Hebraic appearance was shown in, who announced himself as Mr. Hart.

"Good evening," he began, greasily; "I have been consulted by Miss Prentice in regard to a rather delicate matter. Miss Prentice has, I believe, already spoken to you on the subject."

"Has she?" I inquired. "Who is Miss Prentice?"

"She is the aunt of Miss Ormerod, the young lady who lives above you," he went on. "She informs me that at her interview with you she found you--shall we say?--unreasonable."

"Well?" I said curtly, for I disliked the man.

"Now," he continued, "of course we know that Miss Ormerod, though holding these peculiar views, is a young lady possessed of a considerable fortune--not very large, but considerable."

"Do we?" I answered. "I know nothing of the kind."

"Come, come," he said, "let us talk as men of the world--in a friendly way--but as men of the world."

"If you'd kindly tell me the object of your visit, I should be obliged," I replied.

"Oh, I can quite see your point of view," he said, with an oily leer. "Miss Ormerod, being, as I say, possessed of some fortune--not so large as some people might suppose, but some fortune--her relations are naturally anxious that she should not marry without seeing a little more of the world than--shall we say?--can be seen in these flats."

"Are you incapable of saying what you mean, sir?" I inquired, with gathering suspicion.

"As a brother professional, you must know that things cannot always be put crudely," he said. "Of course, Miss Prentice is not a lady to be parsimonious where her niece is in question. At the same time, she is not a lady of unlimited means. I may, however, remind you, Mr. Arbuthnot, that a bird in the hand----"

"Do you mean," I burst out angrily, "that I am supposed to be attempting to inveigle Miss Ormerod into a marriage, and that you've come here to offer me a bribe?"

"Gently, Mr. Arbuthnot, gently," he protested.

"Will you kindly leave the room at once?" I roared.

"I was afraid this might happen," he answered, "so we made a few inquiries and took precautions. There are such things, Mr. Arbuthnot, as unpaid Oxford debts, eh? And tradesmen are sometimes so distrustful as to sell those debts. Now, here's a tailor's bill--dear me, where's the schedule? Yes, a tailor's bill for £57 odd."

"What on earth do you mean?" I said.

"And you can have all these bills and a little ready money," he went on, "if you'd only be reasonable."

"Get out!" I exclaimed again.