and by the ground bass of
the daraboukkeh. Then the chorus of male voices joined in.

As Isaacson stood a little way off on the lonely bank of the Nile in
this deserted place--for the _Loulia_ was tied up far from any village,
in a desolate reach of the river--he thought that he had never heard
till now any music at the same time so pitiless and so sad, so cruel,
and yet, at moments, so full of a rough and artless yearning. It seemed
heavy with the burthen of fate, of that from which a man cannot escape,
though he strive with all his powers and cry out of the very depths of
his heart.

Like a great and sombre cloud the East settled down upon Isaacson as he
heard that song of the dark people. And as he stood in the cloud
something within him responded to these voices, responded to the souls
that were behind them.

Once, one morning in London, besieged by the commonplace, he had longed
for events, tragic, tremendous, horrible even, if only they were
unusual, if only they were such as would lift him into sharp activity.
Had that longing resulted in--now?

He put out one lean, dark hand, and pulled at the heavily podded head of
a doura plant. And the voices sang on, and on, and on.

Suddenly, with a sharp and cruel abruptness, they ceased.

"Al--" and silence! The name of the dark man's God was executed upon
their lips.

Isaacson let go the podded head of the doura. He waited. Then, as the
deep silence continued, he went on till the outline of the big boat was
distinct before his eyes, till he saw that the blue light was a lamp
fixed against an immense mast that bent over and tapered to a delicate
point. He saw that, and yet he still seemed to see Bella Donna upon her
tower; Bella Donna, the eternal spy, whose beautiful eyes had sought his
secrets between the walls of his consulting-room.

Very cautiously he went now. He looked warily about him. But he saw no
more upon the bank. It was not high here. Without a long descent he
would be able to see into the chambers of the _Loulia_, unless their
shutters were closed against the night. It was strange to think that he
was close to Nigel, and that Nigel believed him to be in Cleveland
Square, unless Mrs. Armine had been frank. Now he saw something moving
upon the bank, furtively creeping towards the lights, as if irresistibly
attracted, and yet always afraid. It was a wretched pariah dog,
starving, and with its yellow eyes fixed upon the thing that contained
food; a d