And Hamza always gave Nigel his “sick-food.”

When Isaacson had spoken to Mrs. Armine of Hamza praying, a strange look had gone over her face.  It was like a look of horror.  Isaacson remembered it very well.  Why should she shrink in horror from Hamza’s prayers?

Isaacson needed repose.  But he could not rest yet.  To sleep one must cease from thinking, and one must cease from waiting.

He considered Doctor Hartley.

He was accustomed in his consulting-room to read character, temperament, shrewdly, to probe for more than mere bodily symptoms.  Would Doctor Hartley act out of his fear or out of his subjection to women?  In leaving the Loulia Isaacson had really trusted him to act out of his fear.  But suppose Isaacson had misjudged him!  Suppose Mrs. Armine again used her influence, and Hartley succumbed and obeyed!

In that case, Isaacson resolved that he must act up to his intuition.  If it were wrong, the consequences to himself would be very disagreeable—­might almost be disastrous.  If he were wrong, Mrs. Armine would certainly take care that he was thoroughly punished.  There was in her an inflexible want of heart and of common humanity that made her really a dangerous woman, or a potentially dangerous woman.  But he must take the risk.  Although a man who went cautiously where his own interests were concerned, Isaacson was ready to take the risk.  He had not taken it yet, for caution had been at his elbow, telling him to exhaust all possible means of obtaining what he wanted, and what he meant to have in a reasonable way and without any scandal.  He had borne with a calculated misunderstanding, with cool impertinence, even with insult.  But one thing he would not bear.  He would not bear to be a second time worsted by Mrs. Armine.  He would not bear to be driven away.

If Hartley was governed by fear, well and good.  If not, Isaacson would stand a scene, provoke a scandal, even defy Nigel for his own sake.  Would that be necessary?

Well, he would soon know.  He would know that night.  Hartley had promised to summon him in consultation that night.

“Meanwhile I simply must rest.”

He spoke to himself as a doctor.  And at last he went below, lay down in his cabin with the wooden shutters drawn over the windows, and closed his eyes.  He had little hope of sleep.  But sleep presently came.  When he woke, he heard voices quite near him.  They seemed to come from the water.  He lay still and listened.  They were natives’ voices talking violently.  He began to get up.  As he put his feet to the floor, he heard a knock.

“Come in!” he called.

Hassan put in his head.

“The gentleman him here!”

“What gentleman?  Not Doctor Hartley?”

“The sick gentleman.”

Nigel!  Was it possible?  Isaacson sprang up and hurried on deck.  There was a boat from the Loulia alongside, and on the upper deck was Doctor Hartley walking restlessly about.  He heard Isaacson and turned sharply.