Paul left the room.
In the dark passage he found his mother, who had folded her hands and was gazing towards the door with a fixed look. At the sight of him she broke into tears and wrung her hands.
“He will lose us the only friend we have still on earth,” she sobbed; then she sank down in his arms, starting convulsively when the threatening voices of the two men fell louder on her ear.
“Come away, mother,” he urged; “it excites you too much, and we can’t help matters, anyhow.”
She let him drag her to her bedroom without resistance.
“Give me a little vinegar,” she entreated, “or I shall drop.”
He did as she asked, and while he rubbed her temples with it, spoke to her in a loud tone, so that she should not hear the raised voices of the two men.
Suddenly the doors banged; for a while all was quiet—uncomfortably quiet; then the clattering of a chain and the cry of his father, hoarse with fury,
“Sultan—at him!”
“For God’s sake, he is setting the dog at him!” shrieked Paul, and rushed into the yard.