“What about yourself?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ll go back to him for a bit,” he answered, but he would not accept her proffered help.
She therefore went early to her room and soon fell asleep, nor did she awake again until Hussein aroused her at sunrise with his clattering preparations for her bath.
She found herself alone at breakfast, and it was explained to her by signs that Daniel was with Sheikh Ali. Presently, therefore, she went down to the sick man’s house, a little ashamed of herself for not having risen earlier.
As she entered the upper room she caught sight of Daniel’s face, and its expression of weary sorrow checked her. He was seated beside the couch, his hand on the patient’s pulse, his eyes fixed upon the old man, who lay panting for breath, the beads of perspiration upon his wrinkled forehead.
“Is there anything I can do?” she whispered.
He raised his head and gazed at her: she had never seen him look so haggard before. “No,” he answered, “he is beyond human aid. It’s only a question of minutes now.”
“I ought to have come to help you sooner,” she said. “How long have you been here?”
“All night,” he replied. “I couldn’t leave my friend, could I?” There was something in the inflection of his voice which very much touched her.
The Sheikh turned his head slightly, and Daniel bent forward to catch the laboured words.