"Get up," she cried again, and tugging at Ben Aboo's unconscious body she struck it in her terror and frenzy.It was every one for himself in that bad hour.Katrina followed the guards, and was never afterwards heard of.
When Ben Aboo came to himself the patio was aglow with flames.
He staggered to his feet, still grappling to his breast the money-bags hidden under his selham.Then, bleeding from his shoulder and with blood upon his beard, he made afresh for the passage leading to the back alley.The passage was narrow and dark.There were three winding steps at the end of it.Ben Aboo was dizzy and he stumbled.
But the passage was silent, it was safe, and out in the alley a sea of voices burst upon him.He could hear the tramp of countless footsteps, the cries of multitudes of voices, and the rattle of flintlocks.Lanterns, torches, flares and flashes of gunpowder came and went at both ends of the long dark tunnel.
In the light of these he saw a struggling current of angry faces.
The living sea encircled him.He knew what had happened.
At the first certainty that his power was gone and that there was nothing to fear from his vengeance, his own people had gathered together to destroy him.