Moreover, Orme was now desperately ill—­so ill that he could scarcely walk leaning even on our shoulders.  Still, he would not be satisfied till he was sure that our stores were safe, and, before he could be persuaded to lie down, insisted upon being supported to a vault with copper-bound doors, which the officers opened, revealing the packages that had been taken from the camels.

“Count them, Sergeant,” he said, and Quick obeyed by the light of a lamp that the officer held at the open door.  “All correct, sir,” he said, “so far as I can make out.”

“Very good, Sergeant.  Lock the door and take the keys.”

Again he obeyed, and, when the officer demurred to their surrender, turned on him so fiercely that the man thought better of it and departed with a shrug of his shoulders, as I supposed to make report to his superiors.

Then at length we got Orme to bed, and, as he complained of intolerable pains in his head and would take nothing but some milk and water, having first ascertained that he had no serious physical injuries that I could discover, I administered to him a strong sleeping-draught from my little travelling medicine case.  To our great relief this took effect upon him in about twenty minutes, causing him to sink into a stupor from which he did not awake for many hours.

Quick and I washed ourselves, ate some food that was brought to us, and then took turns to watch Orme throughout the night.  When I was at my post about six o’clock on the following morning he woke up and asked for drink, which I gave to him.  After swallowing it he began to wander in his mind, and, on taking his temperature, I found that he had over five degrees of fever.  The end of it was that he went off to sleep again, only waking up from time to time and asking for more drink.

Twice during the night and early morning Maqueda sent to inquire as to his condition, and, apparently not satisfied with the replies, about ten in the forenoon arrived herself, accompanied by two waiting-ladies and a long-bearded old gentleman who, I understood, was the court physician.

“May I see him?” she asked anxiously.

I answered yes, if she and those with her were quite quiet.  Then I led them into the darkened room where Quick stood like a statue at the head of the bed, only acknowledging her presence with a silent salute.  She gazed at Oliver’s flushed face and the forehead blackened where the gases from the explosion had struck him, and as she gazed I saw her beautiful violet eyes fill with tears.  Then abruptly she turned and left the sick-chamber.  Outside its doors she waved back her attendants imperiously and asked me in a whisper: 

“Will he live?”

“I do not know,” I answered, for I thought it best that she should learn the truth.  “If he is only suffering from shock, fatigue, and fever, I think so, but if the explosion or the blow on his head where it cut has fractured the skull, then——­”