ch showed where the
_Fatma_ lay, by Edfou.

"Go forth ... go from this world!"

Was it the voice of a priest? Or was it the irreparable voice of a
woman?

Suddenly Isaacson breathed quietly. He unclenched his hands. A wave--it
was like that--a wave of strong self-possession seemed to inundate him.
Now, in the darkness on the bank, a great doctor stood. And this doctor
had nothing to do with the far-off lights by Edfou. His mission lay
elsewhere.

"Go forth--go forth from this world!"

He walked along the bank, down the bank to the gangway which connected
the deck of the _Loulia_ forward with the shore. He pushed aside the
dropped canvas, and he stepped upon the deck. A number of dark eyes
gravely regarded him. Then Hamza detached himself from the hooded crowd
and came up to where Isaacson was standing.

"Give that card to your master, and ask if I can see him."

"Yes!" said Hamza.

He went away with the card. There was a pause.

Then abruptly, the sound of the piano ceased.

XXXIV

After the cessation of the music there was a pause, which seemed to
Isaacson almost interminably prolonged. In it he felt no excitement. In
a man of his type excitement is the child of uncertainty. Now all
uncertainty as to what he meant to do had left him. Calm, decided,
master of himself as when he sat in his consulting-room to receive the
suffering world, he waited quietly for the return of his messenger. The
many dark eyes stared solemnly at him, and he looked back at them, and
he knew that his eyes told them no more than theirs told him.

When Hamza went with the card, he had shut behind him the door at the
foot of the stairs, which divided the rooms on the _Loulia_ from the
deck. Presently as no one came, Isaacson looked at this door. He saw
above it the Arabic inscription which Baroudi had translated for Mrs.
Armine and he wondered what it meant. His eyes were almost fascinated by
it and he felt it must be significant, that the man he had seen
crouching beneath the black roof of the hashish cafe had set it there to
be the motto of his wonderful boat. But he knew no Arabic, and there was
no one to translate the golden characters. For Ibrahim that night was
unwell, and was sleeping smothered in his haik.

The white door opened gently, and Hamza reappeared. He made a gesture
which invited Isaacson to come to him. Isaacson felt that he consciously
braced himself, as a strong man braces himself for a conflict. Then