"Then i'spect them a second time. Off you go! ... where's my lorgnette? Oh, dear me. I fancy I must have left it in the boudoir."
"Let me go for it, Princess," said Helena.
"Certainly not! Why should you? Do you think I'm a cripple that I can't go myself? Hafiz Effendi, where are your manners that you don't open this door for me? That's better. Now, the inner one."
At the next moment Gordon and Helena were left together. Helena was still standing by the window looking down at the city which seemed to lie dazed under the midday sun. Gordon stepped up and stood by her side. It was hard to realise that they were there again. But in spite of their happiness there was a little cloud over both. They knew what caused it.
While they stood together in silence they could hear the low reverberation of the voices of the people who were praying within the mosque.
"They are chanting the first Surah," said Gordon.
"Yes, the first Surah," said Helena.
Their hands found each other as they stood side by side.
"I saw Ishmael last night. He came to my quarters," said Gordon in a low tone.
"Well?" asked Helena faintly.