But was it a note?
It felt like it, as I held it tightly in my hand, longing now for the man to go, but afraid to say a word to send him away, for fear I should raise his suspicions in the slightest degree, and induce him to rouse his companions and watch, or go round the tent at a time when I felt sure that the bearer of the note was hiding just outside.
Oh, how long it seemed, and what a number of petty, trifling little things Salaman did before he moved toward the doorway of the tent!
I do not think he did more than was his custom; but this time I fancied he suspected something wrong, and was watching me.
I was quite right. He was watching me intently; and I turned hot and trembled, for it would be horrible, I felt, if help was near, to have it discovered by this man, who was thoroughly devoted to the rajah’s interests, and who would, I felt sure, have to answer with his head if I escaped through his neglect.
He came nearer to me, and I was afraid he would read the anxiety in my face; and yet I dared not turn it round and away from him, for fear of making him suspect me more, so I lay gazing straight at him.
“Would my lord like a cool drink?” he asked.
“No,” I replied; “not now.”
“My lord’s voice is changed!” he cried excitedly. “He is not worse?”
“Oh no;—better,” I said.