It was then that she recognised the figure of a woman--a slight, graceful woman in Oriental garb.

The woman turned and lifted her face to the heights from which she had descended.
In a shrill, eager voice she called out something in a language strange to the Princess, who knelt there and stared as if she were looking upon a being from another world.

A faint shout came from on high, and once more the rope began to writhe.
The Princess passed her hand over her eyes, bewildered.

The face of the woman in the light, half-shaded, half-illumined, was gloriously beautiful--young, dark, brilliant! "Oh!" she exclaimed, starting to her feet, a look of understanding coming into her eyes.

This was one of the Persians! He had saved her! A feeling of revulsion swept over her, combatting the first natural, womanly pride in the deed of a brave man.
Chase struggled weakly to his feet.