“But the _chota sahib’s_ clothes will not fit my lord,” he objected. “That doesn’t signify,” said Dick. “Fit or no fit, I am going to get up,” and he only smiled in secret when the bearer returned after a short absence with one of his own suits, and announced that the tailor had brought it back unexpectedly soon. He found himself much weaker than he had anticipated as he dressed, but he disregarded the bearer’s doleful assurances that he would kill himself, and declined to return to his couch, although he was glad to accept the support of the servant’s arm as he crossed the hall and entered the passage leading into the harem. Lady Haigh, writing her home letters busily at a camp-table (for letter-writing had been dropped by common, though unexpressed consent, during those past days, when it seemed unlikely that either the letters or their writers would ever reach home), looked up in astonishment when he came in, and made haste to arrange a comfortable place for him with cushions upon the divan, remarking that he had better lie still and rest for a little and not talk. But this was not what Dick had come for. “Lady Haigh, where is Georgie?” he asked, the moment after the bearer had departed. “Well, I think she is busy just now,” Lady Haigh replied, with distinct coldness in her manner. As a matter of fact, at that moment Georgia was sitting outside on the terrace with Sir Dugald, who had by this time been promoted to a knowledge of the whereabouts of his party, and was entertaining him with an account of her visit to Bir-ul-Malikat and of the charms of Khadija. “Every person that I have asked about her for the last three days has told me exactly that!” said Dick, with a good deal of indignation in his tone. “I should like to see her, if you please,” he went on, in the voice of one determined to obtain his just rights. “I assure you that I have not got her locked up,” said Lady Haigh, with some tartness. “I will tell her what you say, if you like, but I must say that after all that has happened----” “What is the object of tormenting me like this, Lady Haigh?” asked Dick impatiently, raising himself on his elbow. “I know that Georgia must be ill--I suppose she fell ill through overtiring herself in nursing me--and you are all doing your best to keep it from me. I insist on knowing what is the matter with her, and how she is getting on. I have a right to know.” “Indeed?” said Lady Haigh. “I was not aware of that. But you are mistaken in supposing that Miss Keeling is ill. I am glad to say she is quite well.” “Then what is the matter? Why are you keeping her away from me like this? What has come between us?” “Really, Major North, you are a little inconsistent. Why you should accuse me of trying to separate Miss Keeling and yourself, I don’t know. I can only suppose that your illness has caused you to forget the trifling fact that your engagement is broken off.” Dick stared at her in astonishment and dismay.