“No wonder, when he’s worried to death, when he’s allowed no peace day or night, when he’s given one thing on the top of another!”

“May I ask what you mean by that?”

“Didn’t you come in last night, and force a sleeping draught upon him?”

“I certainly gave him something to make him sleep.”

“And it didn’t make him sleep.”

“Because before it had had time to take effect he received a great shock,” Isaacson said, quietly.

She moved.

“A great shock?”

She stared at him.

“At night, upon water, sound travels a very long way.  Have you never noticed that?” he asked her.

Still she stared, and as he looked at her it seemed to him that the bony structure of her face became more salient.

“Last night,” he said, as she did not speak, “I thought I heard something strange.  I made my men stop rowing for a minute, and I listened.  I am not surprised that the sleeping draught I gave your husband had no effect.  Under the circumstances it probably even did him harm.  But no doctor could have foreseen that.”

She moved restlessly.  Isaacson got up and stood before her.

“I’m going to speak plainly,” he said.  “Some time ago, in my consulting-room in London, you told me a good deal of the truth of yourself.”

“You think—­”

“I know.  You told me then that your whole desire was to have a good time.  How long are you going to put up with your present life?”

“Put up!  You don’t understand.  Nigel has been very good to me, and I am very happy with him.”

“If he’s been good to you, don’t you wish him to get well?”

“Of course I do.  I’ve been waiting upon him hand and foot.”

“And not even a maid to help you—­although she did ring last night for Hamza, when we were here.”

She looked down, and picked at the dim embroideries that covered the divan.

“I’ve nursed him till I’ve nearly made myself ill,” she said, mechanically.

“I’m going to relieve you of that task.”

She turned her face up towards him.

“No, you aren’t!” she said.  “I’m Nigel’s wife, and that is my natural duty.”

“Nevertheless, I’m going to relieve you of it.”

The rock-like firmness of his tone evidently made upon her an immense impression.

“From to-night I take charge of this case.”

Mrs. Armine stood up.  She was taller than Isaacson, and now she stood looking down upon him.

“Nigel won’t have you!” she said.

“He must.”

“He won’t—­unless I wish it.”

“You will never wish it.”

“No.”

“But you will pretend to wish it.”

She continued to look down in silence.  At last she breathed, “Why?”

“Because, if you don’t, I shall not send for another doctor.  I shall send for the police authorities.”

She sank down again upon the divan.  But her expression did not change.  He believed that she succeeded in making her face a mere mask while she thought with a furious rapidity.