She succeeded in inducing her to lie down, but whenever she crept in to look at her Georgia was staring into the darkness with wide-open, brilliant eyes. Not even the baby could divert her thoughts from the conviction that had taken possession of her mind, and Mabel decided to sleep in the outer room, in case her help should be needed during the night. All passed quietly, however, although she had a dream that Rahah came and looked at her very earnestly, even entreatingly, but said nothing. In the morning, after glancing at Georgia, and finding her apparently asleep, she went to her own room to dress. She was just putting the finishing touches to her hair when she saw Rahah come out with a large bundle in one hand and a box in the other, and after looking anxiously around, turn away as if disappointed, and disappear down the passage. “That looked like Georgie’s travelling medicine-chest. What can she be doing with it?” said Mabel to herself. “And a bundle of clothes-- Oh, what----” A terrible thought had seized her, and she ran along the darkened verandah. The outer room was in a state of wild confusion, as if Rahah had been making a hasty selection from among her mistress’s possessions, and in the inner room Georgia was sitting on the side of the bed, trying to dress. “Georgie! what are you doing?” gasped Mabel. “I am going to Dick. He wants me,” answered Georgia, looking at her with unseeing eyes. “But you can’t move. You’re not fit for it. Georgie, do be sensible.” “I don’t know what you mean. I’m perfectly well, only so ridiculously weak. But Dick is calling me, and I am going to him.” Mabel gazed at her in despair, then seized the baby, which was wrapped up in a shawl, ready for travelling. “You won’t go without him, I suppose, and I’ll take good care that you don’t go with him,” she said, while Georgia looked at her without a trace of comprehension in her gaze. “Just sit there until I come back.” She ran down the passage with the baby in her arms, and glanced at the archway in the wall which led to the water-gate. The gate was open, and Ismail Bakhsh was hard at work inflating one of the skins which had been used to support the raft. Rahah was standing near him with her parcels, looking helplessly round, apparently for some one to whom to appeal. “They have waited until Ismail Bakhsh is on guard, and the sentries on the wall are to look the other way while he ferries them over in turn,” said Mabel to herself. “Why, it would kill Georgie! Well, they won’t start while I have the boy. Oh,” she cried, coming suddenly upon a European, “please tell somebody to go and arrest Ismail Bakhsh. He has got the water-gate open, and he is going to desert.”