"Do you mean to say that you're not going to help me?" he said.
"Help you? Why should I?"
Aladdin groaned, and could have killed himself for groaning.
"If you don't help me," he said, and his voice broke, for he was suffering tortures, "I'll die before long."
A perfectly cool and cruel "Well?" came back to him.
"You won't help me?"
"No."
Anger surged in his heart, but he spoke with measured sarcasm.
"Then," he said, "will you at least do me the favor of getting from between me and God's light? If I die, I may go to hell, but I prefer not to see devils this side of it, thank you."
The girl went away, but presently came back. She lowered something to him on a string. "I got it out of one of your holsters," she said.
Aladdin's fingers closed on the butt of a revolver.
