"Put up! You don't understand. Nigel has been very good to me, and I am very happy with him."
"If he's been good to you, don't you wish him to get well?"
"Of course I do. I've been waiting upon him hand and foot."
"And not even a maid to help you--although she did ring last night for Hamza, when we were here."
She looked down, and picked at the dim embroideries that covered the divan.
"I've nursed him till I've nearly made myself ill," she said, mechanically.
"I'm going to relieve you of that task."
She turned her face up towards him.
"No, you aren't!" she said. "I'm Nigel's wife, and that is my natural duty."
"Nevertheless, I'm going to relieve you of it."
The rock-like firmness of his tone evidently made upon her an immense impression.
"From to-night I take charge of this case."
Mrs. Armine stood up. She was taller than Isaacson, and now she stood looking down upon him.
"Nigel won't have you!" she said.
"He must."
"He won't--unless I wish it."
"You will never wish it."
"No."
"But you will pretend to wish it."
She continued to look down in silence. At last she breathed, "Why?"
"Because, if you don't, I shall not send for another doctor. I shall send for the police authorities."
She sank down again upon the divan. But her expression did not change. He believed that she succeeded in making her face a mere mask while she thought with a furious rapidity.
"You don't mean to say," she at length said, "that you think anything--that you suppose one of the servants--Ibrahim--Hamza--? I can't believe it! I could never believe it!"
"Do you wish me to cure your husband?"
"Of course I wish him to be cured."
"Then please go now and tell him that you have asked me to stay here for the night. I don't want him to see me to-night. I will see him as soon as he wakes to-morrow."
"But--he doesn't--"
"Just as you like! Either I stay here and take charge of this case, or I go back to the boat at Edfou and to-morrow I put myself into communication with the proper authorities."
She got up again slowly.
"Well, if you really believe you can pull Nigel round quickly!" she said.
She moved to the door.
"I'll see what he says!" she murmured.
Then she opened the door and went out.
That night Isaacson sent Hassan back to the Fatma to fetch some necessary luggage. For Mrs. Armine succeeded in persuading her husband to submit to a doctor's visit the next morning.
Isaacson had not been worsted. But as he went into one of the smart little cabins to get some sleep if possible, he felt terribly, almost unbearably, depressed.