hat now Hamza had been permitted to
take Ibrahim's place as the personal attendant on my lord.

"Hamza him wait on my lord, give him his drink, give him his meat, give
him his sick-food"--_i.e._, medicine--'give him everythin'.

And meanwhile Ibrahim, though always well paid and well treated, had
sunk out of importance, and was become, in the eyes of men, "like one
dog what eat where him can and sleepin' nowheres."

Who had driven out Mohammed? Isaacson was interested to know that. He
was informed, with the usual variations of the East, that Mrs. Armine
had wanted Hamza. "She likin' him because him always prayin'." The last
sentence seemed to throw doubt upon all that had gone before. But as
Isaacson lay back, having dismissed Hassan, and strove to rest, he
continually saw the beautiful Hamza before him, beautiful because
wonderfully typical, shrouded and drenched in the spirit of the East, a
still fanatic with fatal eyes.

And Hamza always gave Nigel his "sick-food."

When Isaacson had spoken to Mrs. Armine of Hamza praying, a strange look
had gone over her face. It was like a look of horror. Isaacson
remembered it very well. Why should she shrink in horror from Hamza's
prayers?

Isaacson needed repose. But he could not rest yet. To sleep one must
cease from thinking, and one must cease from waiting.

He considered Doctor Hartley.

He was accustomed in his consulting-room to read character, temperament,
shrewdly, to probe for more than mere bodily symptoms. Would Doctor
Hartley act out of his fear or out of his subjection to women? In
leaving the _Loulia_ Isaacson had really trusted him to act out of his
fear. But suppose Isaacson had misjudged him! Suppose Mrs. Armine again
used her influence, and Hartley succumbed and obeyed!

In that case, Isaacson resolved that he must act up to his intuition. If
it were wrong, the consequences to himself would be very
disagreeable--might almost be disastrous. If he were wrong, Mrs. Armine
would certainly take care that he was thoroughly punished. There was in
her an inflexible want of heart and of common humanity that made her
really a dangerous woman, or a potentially dangerous woman. But he must
take the risk. Although a man who went cautiously where his own
interests were concerned, Isaacson was ready to take the risk. He had
not taken it yet, for caution had been at his elbow, telling him to
exhaust all possible means of obtaining what he wanted, and what he
meant t