"Don’t talk," he added as he saw I wanted to ask him something, and he brought me a block of notepaper and a pencil. He held the note-paper whilst I wrote in a very shaky way: "Thirsty", for I was most terribly dry. He gave me some beef-tea of "sorts", holding the cup to my lips. My aunt, but it was good! I could have drunk a bucketful. I pleaded with my eyes for more, but he shook his head. "Acting under orders—Miss Borsen’s orders; can’t," he said, and, thinking to relieve my mind, told me that his men were already at work on the trench. He could only spare me a very few moments, but came in every now and then throughout the day. Ellis and Hartley occasionally put their heads inside the door to tell me that everything was quiet, and Mr. Scarlett paid me a visit during the afternoon. He was fearfully apologetic about my wound, and seemed to think it was his fault entirely. In case I wanted them he had brought me a clean uniform and my dispatch-box with all my letters. "I’ve been down the slope, sir, to have a look for that chap, Jassim," he said, "but I’m hanged if I can find him." I was too weak to worry about this. Mrs. Fisher visited me once and tried to read to me, but the effort was too great for her nerves, so she did not stay very long. Miss Borsen never came near me, and it was the old butler or head boy who was my most constant visitor, bringing me beef-tea and jelly, feeding me, and trying to make me comfortable. About sunset Hartley came in to tell me that several large bands of Afghans could be seen winding their way down from the mountains in our direction, and when Mr. Fisher came later to confirm this, I wrote on the note-paper block: "Send women to _B.A._," because I fully expected that the great attack must come next morning. With very great difficulty he at length persuaded his wife to go aboard the _Bunder Abbas_, but nothing would induce Miss Borsen to accompany her. "She’s got the idea into her head that she’s responsible for the two Eurasians and yourself, and is not going to leave any of you till you’re on your legs again," Mr. Fisher told me hopelessly. That night was even more unpleasant than the first, but it did at length pass, and as the daylight crept through the shutters no attack was made—not a rifle was fired. It was very strange, and I could not understand it. Perhaps an hour later Mr. Fisher came in, looking ghastly. "We are isolated!" he cried. "They’ve crept round by the rocks during the night to the cable-house, cut the cable, and must have had a boat helping them, for we cannot find the sea end. I dare not send people out to look for it; they’d never pick it up." I wrote: "Try. _B.A._ will help," and wrote a signal to Mr. Scarlett to get up steam and go round to the east bay. Mr. Fisher promised to try, but did not see how they could succeed, as they had no proper grappling gear.