When he woke again it was to find at his bedside a kavass from Imshi
Pasha at Cairo. He shrank inwardly. The thought of the Pasha merely
nauseated him, but to the kavass he said: “What do you want, Mahommed?”
The kavass smiled; his look was agreeably mysterious, his manner humbly
confidential, his tongue officially deliberate.
“Efendina chok yasha--May the great lord live for ever! I bring good
news.”
“Leave of absence, eh?”--rejoined Dimsdale feebly, yet ironically; for
that was the thing he expected now of the Minister, who had played him
like a ball on a racquet these three years past.
The kavass handed him a huge blue envelope, salaaming impressively.
“May my life be thy sacrifice, effendi,” he said, and salaamed again.
“It is my joy to be near you.”
“We have tasted your absence and found it bitter, Mahommed,” Dimsdale
answered in kind, with a touch of plaintive humour, letting the envelope
fall from his fingers on the bed, so little was he interested in any
fresh move of Imshi Pasha. “More tricks,” he said to himself between his
teeth.
“Shall I open it, effendi? It is the word that thy life shall carry
large plumes.”
“What a blitherer you are, Mahommed! Rip it open and let’s have it
over.”
The kavass handed him a large letter, pedantically and rhetorically
written; and Dimsdale, scarce glancing at it, sleepily said: “Read it
out, Mahommed. Skip the flummery in it, if you know how.”
Two minutes later Dimsdale sat up aghast with a surprise that made his
heart thump painfully, made his head go round. For the letter conveyed
to him the fact that there had been placed to the credit of his
department, subject to his own disposal for irrigation works, the sum
of eight hundred thousand pounds; and appended was the copy of a letter
from the Caisse de la Dette granting three-fourths of this sum, and
authorising its expenditure. Added to all was a short scrawl from Imshi
Pasha himself, beginning, “God is with the patient, my dear friend,” and
ending with the remarkable statement: “Inshallah, we shall now reap the
reward of our labours in seeing these great works accomplished at
last, in spite of the suffering thrust upon us by our enemies--to whom
perdition come.”
Eight hundred thousand pounds!
In a week Dimsdale was at work again. In another month he was at Cairo,
and the night after his arrival he attended a ball at the Khedive’s
Palace. To Fielding Bey he poured out the wonder of his soul at the
chance that had been given him at last. He seemed to think it was his
own indomitable patience, the work that he had done, and his reports,
which had at last shamed the Egyptian Government and the Caisse de la
Dette into doing the right thing for the country and to him.
He was dumfounded when Fielding replied: “Not much, my Belisarius. As
Imshi Pasha always was, so he will be to the end. It wasn’t Imshi Pasha,
and it wasn’t English influence, and it wasn’t the Caisse de la Dette,
each by its lonesome, or all together by initiative.”
“What was it--who was it, then?” inquired Dimsdale breathlessly. “Was
it you?--I know you’ve worked for me. It wasn’t backsheesh anyhow. But
Imshi Pasha didn’t turn honest and patriotic for nothing--I know that.”
Fielding, who had known him all his life, looked at him curiously for a
moment, and then, in a far-away, sort of voice, made recitative:
“‘Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray,
And when I crossed the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.’”
Dimsdale gasped. “Lucy Gray!” he said falteringly.
Fielding nodded. “You didn’t know, of course. She’s been here for six
months--has more influence than the whole diplomatic corps. Twists
old Imshi Pasha round her little finger. She has played your game
handsomely--I’ve been in her confidence. Wordsworth was wrong when he
wrote:
“‘No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor:
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door--’
“For my wife’s been her comrade. And her mate--would you like to know
her mate? She’s married, you know.”
Dimsdale’s face was pale. He was about to reply, when a lady came into
view, leaning on the arm of an Agency Secretary. At first she did not
see Dimsdale, then within a foot or two of him she suddenly stopped. The
Secretary felt her hand twitch on his arm; then she clenched the fingers
firmly on her fan.
“My dear Dimsdale,” Fielding said, “you must let me introduce you to
Mrs. St. John.”
Dimsdale behaved very well, the lady perfectly. She held out both her
hands to him.
“We are old, old friends, Mr. Dimsdale and I. I have kept the next dance
for him,” she added, turning to Fielding, who smiled placidly and left
with the Secretary.
For a moment there was silence, then she said quietly: “Let me
congratulate you on all you have done. Everybody is talking about you.
They say it is wonderful how you have made things come your way.... I am
very, very glad.”
Dimsdale was stubborn and indignant and anything a man can be whose
amour propre has had a shock.
“I know all,” he said bluntly. “I know what you’ve done for me.”
“Well, are you as sorry I did it as I am to know you know it?” she asked
just a little faintly, for she had her own sort of heart, and it worked
in its own sort of way.
“Why this sudden interest in my affairs? You laughed at me when I made
up my mind to come to Egypt.”
“That was to your face. I sent you to Egypt.”
“You sent me?”
“I made old General Duncan talk to you. The inspiration was mine. I also
wrote to Fielding Pasha--and at last he wrote to me to come.”
“You--why--”
“I know more about irrigation than any one in England,” she continued
illogically. “I’ve studied it.
“I have all your reports. That’s why I could help you here. They saw I
knew.”
Dimsdale shook a little. “I didn’t understand,” he said.
“You don’t know my husband, I think,” she added, rising slowly. “He is
coming yonder with Imshi Pasha.”
“I know of him--as a millionaire,” he answered, in a tone of mingled
emotions.
“I must introduce you,” she said, and seemed to make an effort to
hold herself firmly. “He will have great power here. Come and see me
to-morrow,” she added in an even voice. “Please come--Harry.”
In another minute Dimsdale heard the great financier Arnold St. John say
that the name of Dimsdale would be for ever honoured in Egypt.