The Hakim's orders were interpreted again, and there was a little excitement for a few minutes, during which the doctor gravely walked back to the inner room, leaving the professor and Ibrahim to superintend the moving, and waiting till the bearers had passed out again and the window was closed. A deep silence fell upon the group, while the Sheikh drew back respectfully, to stand on guard by the door of the partially darkened room. Then the doctor spoke in his low, deep tones. "There must be no emotion, no outburst of excitement, Hal. Our work is all to do yet, and our lives depend upon our being calm. Just a word or two in the lowest tone." "Morris, old friend," was whispered, in faltering accents, and the thin, careworn object of their mission gazed up wildly in his old school-fellow's eyes. "You have dared to come here--for me?" "Yes, and please God we will take you back in safety." "We?" whispered the prisoner. "Who is that brave young black who ventured so much?" "Your brother Frank," said the doctor slowly, and he laid his hand quickly upon his new patient's burning brow, for as he anticipated, there was a violent start. But the prisoner with a great effort mastered his emotion, and said softly-- "I did not know him. And you two have risked your lives like this?" "We and Fred Landon," said the doctor softly. "Fred Landon!" cried the patient, with a hysterical gasp. "Dear old Fred! How like him!--Tell him--" "Tell me yourself, Hal," whispered a voice at the back of his head. "Some time, but not now. I am the Hakim's assistant; there, I may grip your hand, dear old lad. Anyone might see me do that." He reached over to seize the prisoner's left hand, for the right was in the doctor's, when in spite of a brave effort there was a violent start, the right hand contracted spasmodically upon the doctor's, but the left lay inert, while they saw the great drops of agony gathering upon the thin, sunburnt face. "Hal!" cried the doctor, dropping his practised calm. "Great heavens! you are not really hurt?" "I could not help wincing," was the faltering reply. "Not hurt? How was I to have been brought here without?" "We expected some pretence." "Pretence!" said Harry Frere bitterly. "You do not know the Baggaras. They are keenness itself. It is real enough, but I am well paid for the pain." "But your hurt?" said the doctor eagerly. "My left arm." "What, kicked?" "No," said the sufferer, perfectly calm now. "I broke it myself." A deep silence fell upon the group, save that the old Sheikh uttered a low groan, and then the doctor was himself again. This was real--real suffering to allay, and a word brought the professor to his side, just as Sam came hurriedly to the inner door, fresh from Frank's angareb. "Hush! Not a word," said the doctor sternly; "only help me here. Quick! my case, lint, bandages, and splints."