In that first dawn of consciousness he had failed to see the silent figure at his bedside—a figure which, had his gaze rested upon it, would probably have troubled his weakened mind and stayed his peaceful slumber.
The moment his eyes closed, the figure silently rose and glided noiselessly from the room. Presently it returned with a glass containing a steaming potion. Setting it down, it bent over the bed and gazed long and earnestly at the sleeper. A look of satisfaction came over its grim and wrinkled face as it resumed its vigil at the bedside.
When next the sick man awoke, a tiny lamp was shedding its dim rays over the dingy apartment. This time the figure at once approached the sufferer and held the glass to his lips. Too weak to resist or even care what was happening, he silently drank. The blood instantly coursed more rapidly through his body, and he felt refreshed and stronger. Watching the look of intelligence come into his eyes, the figure put the glass down and spoke to him in excellent French.
"You feel better now?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied in a faint voice, as though trying to recollect something. "I have been ill, haven't I?"
"Who are you?" he asked, after a pause, "and where am I?"
"I am Mariam Abagi," she answered quickly, "and you are in a house at Gizeh. I am what you call a Syrian Arab. But do not worry—you are too ill yet to think or talk; wait until you are better," and she silently left the room.
For a moment or two Helmar tried to understand and recall something of what had happened, but all seemed so dim and misty that he had to give it up, and at last, becoming drowsy again, fell asleep.
Mariam Abagi was a woman of unusual character for her caste. She was married to a German who was disliked and suspected by the natives. They looked upon him as a spy, a traitor come from Europe for some evil purpose, and eventually did away with him. Mariam was a really good woman, and resented the deed bitterly. Naoum, her son, never saw his father, but inherited some of his good business qualities, and all his mother's kindness of heart. So when he had found Helmar in distress after the affair with the inspector, he instinctively went to his aid, and, finding him still alive, did not hesitate to take him to Mariam at once. On discovering Helmar's nationality, and learning how he too had fallen foul of the treacherous natives, she showed great regard for him, which gradually developed into strong affection, and her kindness knew no bounds. Her son shared the feelings of his mother, and the two, as will be seen, proved to be great benefactors to Helmar.