been. . . ." and then Othman went on to tell her that the hero of
Damascus had in fact retired to Sinai and had been living there as a
hermit. But she must not indulge in premature rejoicing, for the
messengers had found him ill, consumed by disease arising from his
wounded lungs, and almost at death's door. His days were numbered....

"And I, I am a prisoner," groaned the girl. "Held fast, helpless,
robbed of all means of flying to his arms!"

He again bid her be calm, and went on to tell her: in his soft, composed
manner, that two days since a Nabathaean had come to him and had asked
him, as the chief administrator of justice in Egypt, whether an old foe
of the Moslems, a general who had fought in the service of the emperor
and the cross against the Khaliff and the crescent, and who was now sick,
weary, and broken, might venture on Egyptian soil without fear of being
seized by the Arab authorities; and when he, Othman, had learnt that this
man was no other than Thomas, the hero of Damascus, he had promised him
his life and freedom, promised them gladly, as he felt assured his
sovereign the Khaliff would desire.

So this very day her father had reached Fostat, and the Kadi had received
him as a guest into his house. Thomas, indeed, stood on the brink of the
grave; but he was inspirited and sustained by the hope of seeing his
daughter. It had been falsely reported to him that she had perished in
the massacre at Abyla and he had already mourned her fate.

It was now his duty to fulfil the wish of a dying man, and he had ordered
the prison servants to prepare the room adjoining Paula's cell with
furniture which was on the way from his house. The door between the two
would be opened for her.