the brown men singing, he heard nothing but violence in their voices.
And in their rhythmical movements only violence was expressed to him.
When lunch came, he ate it hastily, without noticing what he was eating.
Soon after he had finished, coffee was brought, not by the waiter, but
by Hassan, who could no longer suppress another demonstration of
curiosity.

"No message him comin', my nice gentlemans."

He stood gazing at his master.

"No?" said Isaacson, with a forced carelessness.

"All the men bin sleepin', the Reis him ready to start. We stop by the
_Loulia_, and we take the message ourselfs."

"No. I'm not going to start at present. It's too hot."

Hassan showed his long teeth, which looked like the teeth of an animal.
Isaacson knew a protest was coming.

"I'll give the order when I'm ready to start. Go below to my cabin--in
the chair by the bed there's a field-glass"--he imitated the action of
lifting up to the eyes, and looking through, a glass--"just bring it up
to me, will you?"

Hassan vanished, and returned with the glass.

"That'll do."

Hassan waited.

"You can go now."

Slowly Hassan went. Not only his face but his whole body looked the prey
of an almost venomous sulkiness. Isaacson picked up the glass, put it to
his eyes, and stared up river. He saw faintly a blurred vision. Hassan
had altered the focus. The sudden gust of irritation which shook
Isaacson revealed him to himself. As his fingers quickly readjusted the
glass to suit his eyesight, he stood astonished at the impetuosity of
his mind. But in a moment the astonishment was gone. He was but a
gazer, entirely concentrated in watchfulness, sunk as it were in
searching.

The glass was a very powerful one, and of course Isaacson knew it;
nevertheless, he was surprised by the apparent nearness of the _Loulia_
as he looked. He could appreciate the beauty of her lines, distinguish
her colour, the milky white picked out with gold. He could see two flags
flying, one at her mast-head, one in the stern of her; the awning that
concealed the upper deck. Yes, he could see all that.

He slightly lowered the glass. Now he was looking straight at the
balcony that bayed out from the chamber of the faskeeyeh. There was an
awning above it, but the sides were not closed in. As he looked, he saw
a figure, like a doll, moving upon the balcony close to the rail. Was it
Mrs. Armine? Was it his friend, the man who was sick? He gazed with such
intensity th