He led the way softly down the steps under the Arabic inscription, and into the first saloon of the Loulia. As Isaacson came into it, instinctively he looked towards the shut door behind which--somewhere--Nigel was lying, asleep or not asleep.
"He'll sleep for some hours yet," said Doctor Hartley, seeing the glance. "Let's sit down here."
He sat down quickly on the nearest divan, and pulled his fingers restlessly.
"I didn't quite understand--that is--I don't know whether I quite gathered your meaning just now," he began, looking at Isaacson, then looking down between his feet.
"My meaning?"
"Yes, about this case."
"I thought you considered a consultation unnecessary."
"A formal consultation--yes. Still, you mustn't think I don't value a good medical opinion. And of course I know yours is a good one."
Isaacson said nothing. Not a muscle of his face stirred.
"The fact is--the fact is that, somehow, you have thoroughly put Mrs. Armine's back up. She thinks you altogether undervalue her devoted service."
"I shouldn't wish to do that."
"No, I knew! Still--"
He took out a handkerchief and touched his lips and his forehead with it.
"She has been really so wonderful!" he said--"waiting on him hand and foot, and giving herself no rest night or day."
"Well, but her maid? Wasn't she able to be of service?"
"Her maid? What maid?"
"Her French maid."
A smile of pity moved the corners of the young man's mouth.
"She hasn't got one. She sent her away long ago. Merely to please him. Oh, I assure you it isn't all milk and honey with Mr. Armine."
Isaacson motioned towards the inner part of the vessel.
"And she's not come back? The maid's never come back?"
"Of course not. You do so misunderstand her--Mrs. Armine."
Isaacson said nothing. He felt that a stroke of insincerity was wanted here, but something that seemed outside of his will forbade him to give it.
"That is what has caused all this," continued Hartley. "I shouldn't really have objected to a consultation so much, if it had come about naturally. But no medical man--you spoke very seriously of the case just now."
"I think very seriously of it."
"So do I, of course."
Doctor Hartley pursed his lips.
"Of course. I saw from the first it was no trifle."
Isaacson said nothing.
"I say, I saw that from the first."
"I'm not surprised."
There was a pause in which the elder doctor felt as if he saw the younger's uneasiness growing.
"You'll forgive me for saying it, Doctor Isaacson, but--but you don't understand women," said Hartley, at last. "You don't know how to take them."