gain thought how
ill he looked. But she did not remark upon it. She drank some tea, and
ate a piece of toast.

"Oh," she said, "as I passed by the Winter Palace, I saw Doctor Isaacson
on the terrace."

"Did you?"

"Yes. What's he gone there for this morning?"

"I suppose he's staying there."

Mrs. Armine put down the cup she was lifting to her lips.

"Staying! Doctor Isaacson!" she said, staring at her husband.

"I suppose so."

"But--do you mean he has left here?"

"Yes. He went away last night."

"Why? Why?"

"Why? Well--well, we had a discussion. It ended in a disagreement, and
he left the house."

"You quarrelled?"

"Yes, I suppose it might be called that."

In the midst of her exhaustion, her physical misery and mental
distraction, Mrs. Armine was conscious of a sharp pang. It was like that
of joy.

"Doctor Isaacson has left the house for good?" she said.

"Yes. He won't come here again."

She drank some more tea, and went on eating. For the first time for days
she felt some appetite. A shock of fear that had assailed her had passed
away. She remembered how Nigel had held her hand closely in the hall.

"But why did you quarrel?" she said, at last.

"Oh, we had a discussion--" He paused.

"I know," she said, "I know! You did what I asked you to do. You spoke
about being strong enough now to let Doctor Isaacson go back to London."

"Yes, I did that."

"And about what we owed him?"

"Yes."

"And he was angry?"

"I had been speaking of that; and--Ruby, what do we owe him? I--I must
send him a cheque. I must send it to him to-night."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know. He'll open his mouth very wide, no doubt, now you've
quarrelled."

"I think--I'm sure that you wrong him there," Nigel said, slowly.

"Do you think so? Well, I must go up and take a bath. I may be a good
while."

"Let me come and sit with you. Shall I? I mean in a few minutes."

"Not just yet. Better try and calculate out your debt to Doctor
Isaacson."

She hastened away. Directly she reached her room, she locked the door,
went out on to the balcony, and looked across the river to the _Loulia_.
She saw the Egyptian flag flying. Was Baroudi on board? She must know,
and immediately. She rang the bell, and unlocked the door.

"Ibrahim!" she said, to the Nubian who appeared.

He retreated, and in a moment Ibrahim came, with his soft stride, up the
staircase.

"Ibrahim," she almost whispered, "is Barou