k and glanced over his shoulder. Then, putting his two
hands upon the two rails on either side of the steps, he was swiftly and
rather boyishly down, and standing by Isaacson.

"I--we--I think we may as well have a word together before you go."

His self-possession was distinctly affected. Anxiety showed itself
nakedly in his yellow-brown eyes, and there were wrinkles in his low
forehead just below the crimpy hair.

"She's fallen asleep," he added, looking hard at Isaacson.

"Just as you like," Isaacson said indifferently.

"I think, after what has passed, it will be better."

Isaacson glanced round on the stretched-out Nubians, on Ibrahim and
Hassan in a corner, standing respectfully but looking intensely
inquisitive.

"We'd--we can go in here," said Doctor Hartley.

He led the way softly down the steps under the Arabic inscription,
and into the first saloon of the _Loulia_. As Isaacson came
into it, instinctively he looked towards the shut door behind
which--somewhere--Nigel was lying, asleep or not asleep.

"He'll sleep for some hours yet," said Doctor Hartley, seeing the
glance. "Let's sit down here."

He sat down quickly on the nearest divan, and pulled his fingers
restlessly.

"I didn't quite understand--that is--I don't know whether I quite
gathered your meaning just now," he began, looking at Isaacson, then
looking down between his feet.

"My meaning?"

"Yes, about this case."

"I thought you considered a consultation unnecessary."

"A formal consultation--yes. Still, you mustn't think I don't value a
good medical opinion. And of course I know yours is a good one."

Isaacson said nothing. Not a muscle of his face stirred.

"The fact is--the fact is that, somehow, you have thoroughly put Mrs.
Armine's back up. She thinks you altogether undervalue her devoted
service."

"I shouldn't wish to do that."

"No, I knew! Still--"

He took out a handkerchief and touched his lips and his forehead with
it.

"She has been really so wonderful!" he said--"waiting on him hand and
foot, and giving herself no rest night or day."

"Well, but her maid? Wasn't she able to be of service?"

"Her maid? What maid?"

"Her French maid."

A smile of pity moved the corners of the young man's mouth.

"She hasn't got one. She sent her away long ago. Merely to please him.
Oh, I assure you it isn't all milk and honey with Mr. Armine."

Isaacson motioned towards the inner part of the vessel.

"And she's not