"Little one," he crooned, "there is no fear--he will not come back."
But there was no answer, and he leant swiftly to listen for a breath.
"Little one! Little one!" he cried. He could hear none, and as he stooped his wrinkled face puckering into tears, a voice behind him said quietly: "She is dead! Lo! it was time."
Deena turned to see the rebeck player who closing the door softly, came to stand beside the bed.
"Dead! Dead!" blubbered the old sinner. "Yea! Yea! it is so--his kisses killed her--only his kisses."
"Whose?"
The question echoed and re-echoed over the roof instinct with a sudden new fire, a sudden authority, and it reduced Deena to snivelling submission.
"Only a kiss lord, only a kiss; but Meean Khodadâd----"
He paused struck dumb by the expression on the Wayfarer's face. Grief, horror, exultation showed on it, and over all a great awe as of one who sees a mystery.
"Khodadâd! Oh! Thou most Mighty! Khodadâd! It is the end."