"I'm going to marry her," the Sultan said easily.
Edouard experienced a feeling of relief, on his own account as much as Pansy's.
The doctor studied her with renewed interest the next day when he paid her his usual visit.
"If I sent a note to the Sultan, do you think it would be any use?" Pansy asked him anxiously, the moment he had done with professional matters.
"It would do no harm at any rate," he replied.
Pansy got to her feet quickly.
She knew Edouard was in touch with her captor—a prisoner like herself she imagined, but free to come and go because of his calling. She did not know he was a man so faithful to his master that the latter's smallest wish was carried out to the letter.
Going into the alcove where her belongings were, Pansy seated herself on the edge of a couch, with a writing-pad on her knee. For some minutes she stayed frowning at a blank piece of paper. It was so difficult to know what to say to this savage chief who held the lives of her father and friends in his hands.
After some minutes thinking she wrote:
"To the Sultan Casim Ammeh.