"No message him comin', my nice gentlemans."
He stood gazing at his master.
"No?" said Isaacson, with a forced carelessness.
"All the men bin sleepin', the Reis him ready to start. We stop by the Loulia, and we take the message ourselfs."
"No. I'm not going to start at present. It's too hot."
Hassan showed his long teeth, which looked like the teeth of an animal. Isaacson knew a protest was coming.
"I'll give the order when I'm ready to start. Go below to my cabin--in the chair by the bed there's a field-glass"--he imitated the action of lifting up to the eyes, and looking through, a glass--"just bring it up to me, will you?"
Hassan vanished, and returned with the glass.
"That'll do."
Hassan waited.
"You can go now."
Slowly Hassan went. Not only his face but his whole body looked the prey of an almost venomous sulkiness. Isaacson picked up the glass, put it to his eyes, and stared up river. He saw faintly a blurred vision. Hassan had altered the focus. The sudden gust of irritation which shook Isaacson revealed him to himself. As his fingers quickly readjusted the glass to suit his eyesight, he stood astonished at the impetuosity of his mind. But in a moment the astonishment was gone. He was but a gazer, entirely concentrated in watchfulness, sunk as it were in searching.
The glass was a very powerful one, and of course Isaacson knew it; nevertheless, he was surprised by the apparent nearness of the Loulia as he looked. He could appreciate the beauty of her lines, distinguish her colour, the milky white picked out with gold. He could see two flags flying, one at her mast-head, one in the stern of her; the awning that concealed the upper deck. Yes, he could see all that.
He slightly lowered the glass. Now he was looking straight at the balcony that bayed out from the chamber of the faskeeyeh. There was an awning above it, but the sides were not closed in. As he looked, he saw a figure, like a doll, moving upon the balcony close to the rail. Was it Mrs. Armine? Was it his friend, the man who was sick? He gazed with such intensity that he felt as if he were making a severe physical effort. His eyes began to ache. His eyelids tickled. He rubbed his eyes, blinked, put up the glasses, and looked again.
This time he saw a small boat detach itself from the side of the Loulia, creep upon the river almost imperceptibly. The doll was still moving by the rail. Then, as the boat dropped down the river, coming towards Isaacson, it ceased to move.