I couldn't see my hand in front of me.

My first thought was to glance through the window at Scharnhoff, but something-- intuition, I suppose--made me draw aside from the window instead.
Then, beyond any shadow of a doubt, I heard a man move, and the hair rose all up the back of my head.

I remembered the pistol, clutched it, and found voice enough for two words: "Who's there ?" "Hee-hee!" came the answer from behind the table.

"So Major Jimgrim lied about a broken leg, and thought to trap Noureddin Ali, did he! Don't move, Major Jimgrim! Don't move! We will have a little talk before we bid each other good-bye! I cannot last long in any case, for the cursed Sikhs are after me.

I would rather that you should kill me than those Sikhs should, but I would like to kill you also.