"That is all right, Hakim Sahib"--Raynier was always polite in his address with natives, and if they had any title or rank never failed to give them the benefit of it. "But what I want to know is, where am I?" The question was asked with some impatience. The doctor, seeing that he was likely to become excited, which would be highly prejudicial to the patient, and therefore equally so to his own interest, replied,-- "You are in the house of his Greatness the Nawab." "What?" almost shouted Raynier. "In the house of the Nawab Mahomed Mushim Khan," repeated the Hakim. "Oh, then, I am in good hands. The Nawab and I are friends. Is the Miss Sahib here too?" Even if the doctor had not turned away to conceal it, Raynier would not have noticed the strange look which had come over his face, as indeed how should he? "Yes, yes," was the hurried answer. "Now the Sahib must not talk any more." "But I must see her if only for a minute. She will come, I know. Bring her to me, Hakim Sahib, then I will be as quiet as you wish." "That cannot be," was the answer. "She is getting on well, but not well enough to talk to the Sahib. In a few days, perhaps. Now the Sahib must rest quiet or he will not get well enough to see her at all." Raynier sighed. There was sense in what the other said, he supposed, yet it was hard. Hilda would naturally have suffered from reaction, and could conceivably be anything but well. Why, he himself was as weak as a cat, as the sapient simile for some inscrutable reason puts it, the harmless, necessary domestic feline being, proportionately, of the strongest and most wiry of the animal creation. "Can I see the Nawab, then?" he said. "The Nawab is absent." "Then his brother, the Sirdar Kuhandil Khan? Will he not come and see me?" "He too is absent, Sahib. In a few days, perhaps, when the Sahib is well." With this answer Raynier must fain be content. A drowsiness stole over him, begotten of the exertion of talking, and a great sense of security and comfort Mushim Khan was his friend, and although he might have been drawn into the present bobbery--all these mountain tribes dearly loved the fun of fighting--why, he and Hilda would be perfectly safe under his roof. Hilda, of course, had been found at the same time as himself, and brought here. They would meet in a day or two, as the doctor had said, and when the fighting was over, why, then, they would return to Mazaran, and--good Heavens! why would the thought of Cynthia Daintree obtrude itself? And as, in consequence, he began to turn restlessly, the Hakim glided to his side. "Drink this," he said, pouring something from a phial. Raynier did so, and in another moment was slumbering hard and peacefully.