“Very near.”
I turned my head on the white pillow. “Where is this bed? Where is this room?”
I was silent, struggling with memory.
“Tell me,” I said. “Whose bed is this?”
“It is hers.”
The candle-flame glimmered before my wide-open eyes once more, and—
“Oh, you are all right,” he muttered, then leaned heavily against the bedside, dropping his arms on the coverlet.
“It was a close call—a close call!” he said, hoarsely. “We thought it was ended.... They were all over you—Empress dragged you; but they all crowded in too close—they blocked each other, you see;... and we used the irons.... Your left arm lay close to the cage door and ... we got you away from them, and ... it’s all right now—it’s all right—”
He broke down, head buried in his arms. I moved my left hand across the sheets so that it rested on his elbow. He lay there, gulping for a while; I could not see him very clearly, for the muscles that controlled my eyes were still slightly paralyzed from the shock of the blow that Empress Khatoun had dealt me.