With a last tremendous effort he caught at the floor and held
himself suspended by his finger-ends. But she came and trod on them,
and though her weight was light, malice made her skilful, and she
hurt him until he had to set his teeth and drop. He would never have
believed that those soft slipper-soles could have given so much pain.
"Forget not thy trooper in his need!" she called, as he fell away
through the opening. And then the trap shut.
To his surprise he did not fall very far, and though he landed on an
elbow and a hip, he struck so softly that for a moment he believed he
must be mad, or dead, or dreaming. Then his fingers, numb from
Yasmini's pressure, began to recognize the feel of gunny-bags, and of
cotton-wool, and of paper. Also, he smelled kerosene or something
very like it.
"Forget not the water for thy trooper, Ranjoor Singh!"
He looked up to see Yasmini's face framed in the opening, and he
thought there was more devilment expressed in it, for all her
loveliness, than in her voice that never quite lost its hint of
laughter. He did not answer, and the trap-door closed again.
He knelt and began to grope through the dark on hands and knees, but
gave that up presently because the dust from old sacks and piles of
rubbish began to choke him. Then rats came to investigate him.
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