e with not the least intention of being
impolite, but since you have chosen to make things difficult for me I
must speak out. Last night Mr. Armine said, 'I don't want anything more
to do with Hartley. He knows nothing. I won't have him to-morrow.' Mrs.
Armine was with us and heard these words."

A violent flush showed through the brown on the young man's face. His
round eyes stared with an expression of crude amazement that was almost
laughable.

"He--he said--" he began. Then abruptly, allowing an American drawl to
appear in his voice, he said, "Pardon! But I don't believe it."

"It's quite true, nevertheless."

"I don't believe it. That's a fact. I've seen Mr. Armine, and he was
most delighted to welcome me. He put himself entirely in my hands. He
asked me to 'save' him."

Suddenly Isaacson felt a sickness at his heart.

"I must see him," he almost muttered.

"I won't have him disturbed," said Doctor Hartley, with now the
transparently open enmity of a very conceited man who had been insulted.
"As his physician I forbid you to disturb my patient."

The two men looked at one another in silence.

"After what occurred last night, and what has occurred here to-day, I
cannot go without seeing either Mr. or Mrs. Armine," Isaacson said at
last.

Was Nigel's weakness of mind, the sad product of his illness of body, to
fight against his friend, to battle against his one chance of recovery?
That would complicate matters. That--Isaacson clearly recognized
it--would place him at so grave a disadvantage that it might render his
position impossible. What had been the scene last night after he had
left the _Loulia_? How had it affected the sick man? Again he seemed to
hear that dreadful laughter, the cries that had followed upon it!

"If I am not to see Mr. Armine as a doctor, then I must ask to see him
as a friend."

"For a day or two I shall not be able to give permission for any one to
see him, except Mrs. Armine and myself, and of course his servant,
Hamza."

Isaacson sent a sudden, piercing look, a look that was like something
sharp that could cut deep into the soul, to the man who faced him. Just
for a moment a suspicion besieged him, a suspicion hateful and surely
absurd, yet--for are not all things possible in the cruel tangle of
life?--that might be grounded on truth. Before that glance the young
doctor moved, with a start of uneasiness, despite his self-possession.

"What--what d'you mean?" he almost sta