* * * * *

She had never waited for anything as she waited for the answers to the passionately urgent notes she sent out.  She had written the doctor, the ambassador, the consul, the Evershams.  And then she walked up and down, up and down that long, dim room which grew darker and darker with the fading light and counted off the seconds and the minutes and the hours with her pulsing heart beats.  She had never known there was such suspense in the world.  It was comparable to nothing in her girl’s life—­the only faint analogy was in the old school-time when she thought she had failed in the history examination and her roommate had gone to the office to find out for her.  She remembered walking the floor then, in a silly panic of fear.  But she had not failed—­she had just squeaked through and it would be like that now.  Someone would come to tell her that everything was all right and laugh with her at her foolish fright.  But underneath this strain of fervent reassurance ran a cold little current like an underground brook, a seeping chill of dread and vague fear and strange amazement that she should be here in this lonely palace, peering out of darkened windows, waiting and listening.

This time it was the Captain’s steps, coming up the stairs.  Perceptive of her impatience, he had left her to herself, till he could bring word.  Now she stood, listening to the nearing jingle that accompanied his footsteps, her hands clasped involuntarily against her breast in rigid tension.  And when she saw his face through the dusk, saw the courteous deprecation of it, the solicitous sympathy, she did not need his words to tell her that it was not yet all right.

There was nothing to be done.  Legal and medical authorities united in insisting that no one, not even the guest, should leave the palace until the fear of spreading the infection was past.  This might be modified in a day or two, but for the present they were too frightened to make exceptions.

And they were going up the Nile Friday morning, Arlee remembered numbly.  And this was Thursday night.

“Did the Evershams—­did they answer my letter?” she said with dry lips.

The Evershams, it seemed, had not been at the hotel.  Perhaps when they had read the letter they would be able to do something about it.

“They’ll just talk!” cried Arlee passionately, her breast heaving.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to rave, she wanted to fly down the stairs and hurl herself recklessly against that barring bayonet.  But because there was pride and spirit behind her delicate loveliness she shut the door hard upon those imps of hysteria and with high-held head and palely smiling lips she thanked the Captain for the hospitality he was extending in his sister’s name.  Yes, thank you, she would rejoin them at dinner.  Yes, thank you, she would like to go to her room now.