The Baggara officer looked troubled and perplexed.
“Tell the great Hakim that his servant was bidden to bring the slave here and take him back. There is nothing for him but to obey.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, drawing himself up proudly and fixing the man with his eyes, pausing at times to give Ibrahim ample time to interpret his words, “it is his duty to obey till a greater man than his master bids him do this or that.”
The doctor’s words sounded loud and imperious, and he had got so far when an impatient voice was heard from the room where Frank was lying, calling first one and then another, and a cold chill ran through all present, for the voice sounded as it were the knell of all their hopes. Even the doctor was silenced for the moment, but recalling directly that only the Sheikh could understand his words, he called angrily in a voice of thunder, looking hard at the Sheikh the while.
“Lie still, Frank, till I come!” Then: “Tell thy master that the Hakim will keep the white slave here. Take him this from me as my pledge that I will cure his slave. Enough! Now go.”
As he spoke he raised his hand to his white turban, detached the large Egyptian jewel he wore, and then gave it to the Sheikh, who took it reverently, and as he interpreted humbly the Hakim’s words ended by placing the rare token in the officer’s hands.
The Baggara bowed his head over the pledge, as he wrapped it carefully in his fine linen scarf, and saying humbly, “The Hakim is great,” he gave a final glance at the patient and backed slowly out of the room, followed by the officer of the Emir’s guard, while the curtain was quivering still where it had fallen back when Frank appeared in the opening leading to his room.
“What does all this mean?” he said. Then, catching sight of the ghastly figure lying upon the couch, he uttered a cry of joy, and rushing forward fell upon his knees by his brother’s side.