“Yes.”

“Hasn’t it ever struck you as very strange that you, a young man in magnificent health, living an outdoor life in one of the finest climates in the world, should be struck down by this mysterious illness?”

“Mysterious?”

“Well, wasn’t it?”

“It was very odd.  I always thought that, of course.”

He leaned forward a little in his chair, fixing his eyes on Isaacson.

“What was my illness?”

“You’ve been suffering from lead-poisoning,” said Isaacson, slowly, and with an effort.

“Lead?”—­Nigel leaned farther forward, moving his hands along the arms of his reclining chair—­“lead-poisoning?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been—­you say I’ve been poisoned?”

“Poisoned from day to day, gradually poisoned through a considerable period of time.”

“Poisoned!”

Nigel repeated the word heavily, almost dully.  For a moment he seemed dazed.

“If I had not arrived in time, you would have been killed, undoubtedly.”

“Killed!  But—­but who, in the name of God, should want to kill me?”

Isaacson was silent.

“I say, who should want to kill me?” reiterated Nigel.

And this time there was a sound of violence in his voice.

“There was somebody on board of the Loulia who must have wished for your death.”

“But who—­who?  The Nubians?  Ibrahim?  Hamza?”

Isaacson did not answer.  He could not answer at that moment.

“I treated them well, I paid them well, they had everything they could possibly want.  They had an easy time.  They all seemed fond of us.  They were fond of us.  I know they were.”

“I don’t say they were not.”

“Then what d’you mean?  There was nobody else on board with me.”

“Yes, there was.”

“There was?  Then I never saw him!  Do you mean to say there was some one hidden on board?  What are you talking about, Isaacson?”

He was becoming greatly, almost angrily excited.

“Armine, the compensation I want is this.  I don’t want to clear out and leave you here in Egypt; I want to take you away with me.”

“Take me away?  Where to?”

“Anywhere—­back to England.”

“We are going to England as soon as I’m quite strong.  But you haven’t told me!  You say I’ve been poisoned.  I want to know by whom.”

* * * * *

“But perhaps you don’t know!  Do you know?”

Isaacson got up.  He felt as if he could not speak any more sitting down.

“If you will only give me my compensation, let me take you away quietly—­I’m a doctor.  Nobody will think anything of it—­I need say nothing more.”

“Take me away!  But I’m nearly well now, and there can be no more danger.”

“If you come away with me—­no!”

“But you forget, I’m not alone.  I must consult my wife.”