The road described a right angle under the gateway, so that no one standing without could see through into the street. The guard had stood for some seconds rigid, nosing their rifles, ere he whom they thus honored could be seen of Shems-ud-dìn. Even then, in the young officer advancing toward him, one white-gloved hand on his sword hilt, not running nor manifesting the slightest emotion, he was slow to recognize his only son. Abd-ur-Rahman came to his father’s stirrup and kissed his hand with the same formality which had marked his approach. He murmured: “Welcome, and twice welcome, O my father.” At sound of his voice a cry went up from within the litter close at hand; but Abd-ur-Rahman seemed not to hear it. “Thou didst receive my letter,” said Shems-ud-dìn, as they passed in beneath the massive gateway. Abd-ur-Rahman, still at his stirrup, answered: “In this hour I received it. It should have been delivered to me last night, but for the obtuseness of the doorkeeper at the house where I dwell. As to thy question concerning Frank physicians, I know nothing of the matter. I inquired on my way hither, and have learnt that there exists a hospital kept by one of them. Thou wilt find its direction written on this paper, as also that of a khan where thou mayst find room enough. What was told thee regarding the present fullness of the city concerns not the Muslim quarter. I hope that my sister will be soon healed, and that thou wilt be blest in thy stay here. Now, with permission, I must leave thee. I will seek thee after noon at the khan.” “Allah be with you now and always, O my son.” As he watched Abd-ur-Rahman stride off down a side street of many arches, Shems-ud-dìn wondered what it was that so oppressed his soul. CHAPTER VIII Beneath an arched doorway opening on a tunneled way where lurked so deep a shadow that, on emerging thence, the fall of sunlight hurt men’s eyes, sat a fat old man, greasy and no little dirty, making his frugal breakfast of bread and olives. Behind him, through the doorway, basked a little court in sunlight. His was the quietest, coolest seat in all El Cûds, he was used to boast. Great, therefore, was his consternation when, suddenly deafened with the clatter of many hoofs, he saw his tunnel invaded by a file of armed horsemen so numerous that, peeping forth, he could not see the end of them. At first, being an infidel, he supposed them sent by government to raid the hospital and slay every sufferer. But a further glance convinced him that no such mercy was contemplated. He perceived a close litter borne between two mules. The contrivance had entered the tunnel; it remained to be seen if it would ever get out again. One called: “Hi, O old man! Is this the Frankish hospital?” “It is a hospital, that is sure. And it is Frankish in the sense that it is maintained by certain Franks having more money than wits.”