Some minutes passed. The red glow in the room deepened to a dull brown, and at one moment there was a groan in the gathering gloom. He heard it and looked up, but there was nobody there and then he realised that it was he who had groaned. At another moment his mind occupied itself with lesser things. He saw that one finger of his left hand was badly wounded, and he bound it up in his handkerchief. Then he looked at himself in a mirror that hung on the wall in front of the sofa, but he could not see his face distinctly—eyes, nose, and mouth being blurred. He did not attempt to escape. Never for an instant did it occur to him to run away. The sun went down behind the black Pyramids across the Nile, and after a while the dead silence of the evening of the Eastern day was broken by the multitudinous cries of the muezzin, which came up from the city below like a deep ground-swell on a rugged coast. After that Gordon knelt again by the General’s body, trying to believe he was not dead. The eyes were still open, but all the light had gone out of them, and seeing their stony stare the thought came to him that the General’s soul was with him in the room. The stupor of his senses had suddenly given way to a supernatural acuteness, and at one moment he imagined he felt the touch of a hand on his shoulder. At the next instant he was plainly conscious of a door opening and closing in the inner part of the house, and of light and rapid footsteps approaching. He knew what had occurred—Helena had been out on the terrace or in the parade ground and had just come back. She was now in the next room, breathing hard as if she had been running. He could hear the rustling of her skirt and her soft step as she walked towards the door of the General’s office. At the next moment there came a knock, but Gordon, held his breath and made no answer. Then "Father!" in a tremulous voice, full of fear, as if Helena knew what had happened. Still Gordon made no reply, and the frightened voice came again. "Are you alone now? May I come in?" Then Gordon felt an impulse to throw the door open and confess everything, saying, "I did it, Helena, but I didn’t intend to do it. He threw himself upon me, and I flung him off and he fell, and that is the truth, as God is my witness." But he could not do this, because he was afraid. He who had never before known fear, he who had stood in the firing line when hordes of savage men had galloped down with fanatical cries—he was trembling now at the thought of meeting a woman’s face. So, treading softly, he stole out of the room by the outer door, the door leading to the gate, and as he closed it behind him he felt that the door of hope also was now for ever closed between Helena and him.