light.

Yes, a globe of light indeed--for now it had assumed the dimensions of
a lesser moon; and it seemed to rest in the space between the open
windows. Then, he thought that it crept still nearer. The
realities--the bed, the mosquito curtain, the room--were fading, and
grateful slumber approached, and weighed upon his eyes in the form of
that dazzling globe. The feeling of contentment was the last
impression which he had, ere, with the bright star seemingly suspended
just beyond the netting, he slept.

CHAPTER XV

THE WITCH-QUEEN

A man mentally over-tired sleeps either dreamlessly, or dreams with a
vividness greater than that characterising the dreams of normal
slumber. Dr. Cairn dreamt a vivid dream.

He dreamt that he was awakened by the sound of a gentle rapping.
Opening his eyes, he peered through the cloudy netting. He started up,
and wrenched back the curtain. The rapping was repeated; and peering
again across the room, he very distinctly perceived a figure upon the
balcony by the open window. It was that of a woman who wore the black
silk dress and the white _yashmak_ of the Moslem, and who was bending
forward looking into the room.

"Who is there?" he called. "What do you want?"

"_S--sh_!"

The woman raised her hand to her veiled lips, and looked right and
left as if fearing to disturb the occupants of the adjacent rooms.

Dr. Cairn reached out for his dressing-gown which lay upon the chair
beside the bed, threw it over his shoulders, and stepped out upon the
floor. He stooped and put on his slippers, never taking his eyes from
the figure at the window. The room was flooded with moonlight.

He began to walk towards the balcony, when the mysterious visitor
spoke.

"You are Dr. Cairn?"

The words were spoken in the language of dreams; that is to say, that
although he understood them perfectly, he knew that they had not been
uttered in the English language, nor in any language known to him;
yet, as is the way with one who dreams, he had understood.

"I am he," he said. "Who are you?"

"Make no noise, but follow me quickly. Someone is very ill."

There was sincerity in the appeal, spoken in the softest, most silvern
tone which he had ever heard. He stood beside the veiled woman, and
met the glance of her dark eyes with a consciousness of some magnetic
force in the glance, which seemed to set his nerves quivering.

"Why do you come to the window? How do you know--"

The visitor ra