It was all done in four seconds.
Then we turned to Foulata. The poor girl was stabbed in the body, and I saw that she could not live long.
“Ah! Bougwan, I die!” gasped the beautiful creature. “She crept out– Gagool; I did not see her, I was faint–and the door began to fall; then she came back, and was looking up the path–I saw her come in through the slowly falling door, and caught her and held her, and she stabbed me, and /I die/, Bougwan!”
“Poor girl! poor girl!” Good cried in his distress; and then, as he could do nothing else, he fell to kissing her.
“Bougwan,” she said, after a pause, “is Macumazahn there? It grows so dark, I cannot see.”
“Here I am, Foulata.”
“Macumazahn, be my tongue for a moment, I pray thee, for Bougwan cannot understand me, and before I go into the darkness I would speak to him a word.”
“Say on, Foulata, I will render it.”
“Say to my lord, Bougwan, that–I love him, and that I am glad to die because I know that he cannot cumber his life with such as I am, for the sun may not mate with the darkness, nor the white with the black.
“Say that, since I saw him, at times I have felt as though there were a bird in my bosom, which would one day fly hence and sing elsewhere. Even now, though I cannot lift my hand, and my brain grows cold, I do not feel as though my heart were dying; it is so full of love that it could live ten thousand years, and yet be young. Say that if I live again, mayhap I shall see him in the Stars, and that–I will search them all, though perchance there I should still be black and he would –still be white. Say–nay, Macumazahn, say no more, save that I love –Oh, hold me closer, Bougwan, I cannot feel thine arms–/oh! oh!/”
“She is dead–she is dead!” muttered Good, rising in grief, the tears running down his honest face.
“You need not let that trouble you, old fellow,” said Sir Henry.
“Eh!” exclaimed Good; “what do you mean?”
“I mean that you will soon be in a position to join her. /Man, don’t you see that we are buried alive?/”
Until Sir Henry uttered these words I do not think that the full horror of what had happened had come home to us, preoccupied as we were with the sight of poor Foulata’s end. But now we understood. The ponderous mass of rock had closed, probably for ever, for the only brain which knew its secret was crushed to powder beneath its weight. This was a door that none could hope to force with anything short of dynamite in large quantities. And we were on the wrong side!
For a few minutes we stood horrified, there over the corpse of Foulata. All the manhood seemed to have gone out of us. The first shock of this idea of the slow and miserable end that awaited us was overpowering. We saw it all now; that fiend Gagool had planned this snare for us from the first.
It would have been just the jest that her evil mind would have rejoiced in, the idea of the three white men, whom, for some reason of her own, she had always hated, slowly perishing of thirst and hunger in the company of the treasure they had coveted. Now I saw the point of that sneer of hers about eating and drinking the diamonds. Probably somebody had tried to serve the poor old Dom in the same way, when he abandoned the skin full of jewels.
“This will never do,” said Sir Henry hoarsely; “the lamp will soon go out. Let us see if we can’t find the spring that works the rock.”
We sprang forward with desperate energy, and, standing in a bloody ooze, began to feel up and down the door and the sides of the passage. But no knob or spring could we discover.
“Depend on it,” I said, “it does not work from the inside; if it did Gagool would not have risked trying to crawl underneath the stone. It was the knowledge of this that made her try to escape at all hazards, curse her.”