That night no sleep would come to his tired eyes. The pain in his side had increased much to his alarm. Speaking of it to the night nurse, she gave him an injection, but it had little effect. Through the long hours of the silent night he lay staring with unseeing eyes at the ceiling above him.
The whole of the next day Carl received no nourishment save a glass of lemon water, although food was promised him the following day. That night another injection of morphine was given him, and peaceful sleep came to the tired man.
One hospital day was like another. But on the sixth day Carl became very ill. His pulse raced and his temperature rose rapidly. A high fever set in, torturing his very soul.
Carl noted that the night nurse had spoken to Grace of his condition when she arrived in the morning. Her serious face, when asking him how he felt, worried Carl greatly. He began to ponder on the success of the operation. Was it likely to end fatally? But then he did not care. Sana was gone, burned alive, and in a large measure due to his own fault. Ever since that fateful hour he had been thinking of how he could have saved his beloved if he had only acted the part of the hero; the hero of story book and screen. He had saved Sana from the clutches of Amshied and he blamed himself for not having taken sufficient precautions when leaving the burning building. As yet he did not know how he had been put out of action—all he remembered was the blow that sent him reeling down in a heap.
Such thoughts depressed him, and he cared little whether he lived or not.
Although puzzled at this turn of affairs, Grace assured him that he was in no great danger. Two assistant doctors, in the absence of the head doctor, were called, but they could not say just what was the matter. When Dr. Thuillier came, however, a hasty examination was all that was necessary to disclose the nature of the trouble. An abscess had formed in the wound, and it was necessary to re-open it. This was immediately done, the abscess removed, and the incision closed.
After this second operation Carl’s fever left him and he was much easier.
For three long weeks after that Carl remained at the hospital, gaining in strength slowly but surely. During this time Grace was constantly at his side, tenderly nursing him with all possible skill and patience.
At last came the day when he was pronounced fit to leave. During the weeks of his convalescence, Grace had often told him of her desire to return to New York—she was tired of the desert, of the hospital, of everything in this foreign land. She wanted to go home. So it had been mutually agreed that they would go home together.
So together, Carl and Grace, bade goodbye to their friends at Marrakesh and left for Mogador, where they hoped to find passage by steamer to New York.