“No,” said the doctor quietly; “disappointment is making you both go to extremes. We are here on the spot, and we must work by other hands.”
“Whose?” said Frank bitterly.
The doctor pointed gravely to Ibrahim, who drew himself up with a look at the speaker full of gratitude and pride.
“Yes, O Hakim,” he said quietly; “it seems that I and my young men are at liberty to come and go with the camels, and we can mix with the people as we please. If, then, their Excellencies will trust their servant and give him time he will do all he can to search out tidings of their friend and brother. Shall it be so?”
“Yes,” said the doctor firmly.
The old Sheikh bowed, and then turned to Frank.
“Ben Eddin is black,” he said, with a smile, “and the day or night may come when I shall say to him, ‘I have glad tidings for you. Come as one of my camel-drivers, and maybe I can get you past the guard.’”
“Ibrahim!” cried the young man wildly, “don’t promise me too much.”
“I promise nothing, Ben Eddin,” said the old man smiling; “but an Arab Sheikh and the black slave with him can go far unnoticed. Wait and see. Till then go on and be a patient servant to the sick man here, the Emir’s son. He likes you in his way. Maybe he will be better soon, and want you to bear him company here and there.”
“Yes, it is possible,” cried Frank excitedly.