Ten o'clock
whispered Jill , as she made to raise the body in her arms . But the dusky head shook feebly , and a dainty henna-tipped finger pointed to a window across the hall , and Jill , feeling herself pushed away ever so slightly , rose as three words were whispered over and over again : `` Vite -- allez -- mort -- vite -- allez -- mort ! '' And understanding that there was nothing more to be done she bent and kissed the child upon the cheek and turned away , looking back as she opened the window which gave on to a balcony about ten feet above the level of the deserted street , and even as she looked , saw the door of the room she had just left being pushed back inch by inch as the dying girl , strengthened by love and agony , dragged herself slowly into the room in which lay the man she worshipped asleep . Ten o'clock ! -- half-past ! -- eleven ! The usual noises of a night in an Egyptian town were at their height .