Allison made a motion with his hand, wearily.
“Where is Maie?” he asked, “and why do you keep the place so cursed dark?”
The doctor placed an arm under his head, raising it slightly.
“Tell me, Allison,” pleaded the Colonel, “who forged that paper? Who was it, my son?”
“Why,—I did it, father.—It’s all over, now—only twenty thousand—not worth—fussing about. Maie! Are you there, my Maie?”
With the words he made an effort to rise, and a crimson stream gushed from his mouth and nostrils. The doctor laid him back upon the cushions, while the Persian sought to stay the hemorrhage with his handkerchief. But Allison was spent. His limbs twitched nervously once or twice, and after that he lay still.
The harem of the Khan had become a chamber of death.
CHAPTER XXII
BY THE HAND OF ALLAH
The events of this fateful night, numerous though they had been, were not yet ended.
Leaving the women to care for the dead man the Khan had withdrawn to his state apartment, taking with him the Persian, Dr. Warner and Colonel Moore, as well as David the Jew.