"It is a difficult matter, and he will be hard to find."
Harry was prepared for objections, and had learned the best arguments
for their removal. He placed a purse containing the sum which his
friends in Cairo had estimated sufficient on the divan, and said--
"I know that legal expenses are great in all countries, and it is only
just that I should bear the charge."
The Bey bowed and clapped his hands.
"Send Abdullah here," he said to the attendant who appeared.
Abdullah came in; an old man, with an ink horn and other writing
materials, worn in a case stuck into his girdle instead of weapons, who
prostrated himself, and was questioned. He remembered the name of
Daireh, and knew there was something wrong about him. But he must
consult his books and examine certain sbirri, or policemen.
So Harry had to go away, with the promise that he should have fuller
information next day. He did not for a moment expect to be satisfied so
quickly as that, nor was he; but still he was infinitely more lucky than
most people who have to deal with Turkish or Egyptian authorities, for
at a third meeting, and with a little more baksheesh to subordinates, he
got at the facts; and very disappointing they were.
When the Egyptian army, now under the command of Hicks Pasha, was being
gathered to the camp of Um Durma, where it was at present situated,
Daireh had been very energetic in trying for contracts to supply the
troops with various requisites, and had ingratiated himself with many of
the Egyptian officers, so he came and went freely past the sentries at
all hours, always having the password. One of the English officers,
however, chanced to see him one day in company which aroused his
suspicions, and he had him watched, and shortly afterwards a couple of
spies were taken, from the papers found on whom, as well as from the
confessions they were induced to make--not, I fear, by arguments which
would be approved of in more civilised lands--it became evident that
Daireh was in communication with the enemy, and had kept him posted as
to the number of the troops, their organisation, and their probable
movements. Orders were immediately issued for the arrest of the
traitor, who, however, had disappeared, having doubtless taken refuge
with the Mahdi.
This news was a terrible blow to Harry. He had tracked the man all
these thousands of miles, and here, just as he had his hand upon him, he
had slipped away again, and was now farther off than ever.
There seemed to be but one chance left--to employ the signet-ring, to
apply to the principal dervish of Khartoum, and seek out his uncle
Ralph, the Sheikh Burrachee. He was most likely with the Mahdi, or else
with Osman Digna out Red Sea way; and, in the former case, he would help
him to recover what he wanted from Daireh, who was pretty certainly with
the False Prophet. But it was extremely distasteful to him to have
recourse to such an expedient. His uncle was a renegade, and if England
espoused the cause of the Khedive, which, after the experience of
interference with Arabi's revolt, it was very likely that she would do,
he would be in arms against his country.
It was certain that he would not desert the man, Mahomet Achmet, whom
his cracked brain accepted as a prophet from Heaven, for any patriotic
consideration, for he was a wrong-headed Irishman as well as a fanatic,
and a man with a grievance to boot, and would glory in drawing his sword
against England. And if he joined him and sought his aid, Harry Forsyth
might find himself in the awkward fix of acquiescing, if not taking
part, in war against his countrymen, or of losing his head. And he had
a sort of foolish weakness for his head, which fitted very comfortably
on his shoulders, and did not want transferring to any other pedestal.
And then, suppose, after all, the Sheikh Burrachee were serving with
Osman Digna on the other side of the Soudan! He would be farther off
his object than ever after he joined him.
He revolved all this in his mind as he walked moodily through the
bazaar, where the products of all countries were displayed, not
excepting the merchandise of Manchester and Birmingham, when he heard
voices in loud altercation, and, looking up, he saw a group of men whose
gestures showed them to be strangely excited about something.
An Arab, who stalked along, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and
scowling on the bystanders, seemed to be the object of this commotion.
"Stop him!" "Seize him!" "The spy!" "The rebel!" were the cries: but
the Arab passed on like a lion through a crowd of wolves.
Then an Egyptian soldier, bolder than the rest, seized him by the sword-
arm, and in a second half a dozen were upon him. But in the next he had
shaken himself free, and his bright blade flashed in the sunlight, and
down went the first aggressor on the causeway, which was flooded with a
crimson stream.
Pistols were pulled out, carbines unslung, as the motley crowd rushed to
the spot. Pop, pop, pop; at least half a dozen shots were fired. One
bullet whizzed unpleasantly close to Harry's nose, another smashed in
amongst the bottles of an apothecary's stall, from which an assortment
of odours arose, attar of rose and asafoetida being the most prominent.
What billets all the other bullets found I know not, but one severed the
Arab's spine, and avenged the Egyptian.
By the time Harry got up to this latter, he saw that a man in European
clothing was by his side, kneeling on one knee, and trying to check the
flow of blood which pumped out of a wound in his neck.
"Is there a human being here who is not a jabbering idiot?" he cried in
English. "Keep back, you fools, and let the man have a chance to
breathe."
"Can I be of any use?" asked Harry, pushing to him.
"That's right, come on," said the surgeon, as he evidently was. "Lay
hold of this forceps, and hold tight--that's it--while I cut down a bit
and tie it lower down. No good, I fear; there are too many vessels
severed. By George, how sharp those fellows keep their tools!"
He was right; it _was_ no good. In five minutes the Egyptian soldier
died under his hands. Upon which he rose up and walked on to where the
Arab lay, to see if anything could be done for him; but he had hardly
moved since the shot struck him.
"A bad business," said the doctor to Harry, who had followed him. "We
have not got many soldiers in our force brave enough to lay hold of an
Arab, and can ill afford to lose one of them in a stupid affair like
this."
"Are they such cowards?" asked Harry. "But I say," he added, as he
looked in the other's face, "is not your name Howard?"
"Yes, it is."
"Don't you remember Forsyth at Harton--your fag?"
"Remember little Forsyth! Of course I do. But you don't mean to say--
by George! Now I look at you I see a sort of a likeness. But I should
never have known you."
"I expect not. When you left I was thirteen, and I have altered a good
bit since then. But you were eighteen or thereabouts, and have not
changed so much."
"That's it; though I have had plenty to change me, too. But how do you
come to be here, and in that toggery?"
"Well, it is rather a long story," said Harry, "and I would sooner tell
it sitting down somewhere out of the sun. What are you doing here--in
private practice?"
"That is a long story, too," cried Howard, laughing; "and I would also
sooner tell it sitting out of the sun. Come to Yussuff's, where we can
wash this mess from our hands, and get anything we want."
Yussuff's was not far. It was a convenient establishment, where you
could get a meal, or a bottle of wine, or even beer, if you would pay
for it, or simply take a chibouque or narghile, and a cup of coffee or a
sherbet.
"Try the lemonade; they make it first-rate here," said Howard; and Harry
took his advice, and swallowed a big glassful of nectar, which no iced
champagne he had ever drunk could beat. And then they washed their
hands and rested on a comfortable divan while they interchanged
confidences.
Howard had been a bit wild, perhaps, before he passed the College of
Surgeons, and did not see any opening afterwards; he had no money or
professional interest. So he had gone into the Turkish service, and,
thinking himself ill-treated, had passed into that of the Khedive, and
had lately volunteered to accompany Hicks Pasha's expedition.
"I have made a regular hash of it, as usual," he said; "for my great
wish is to study gun-shot wounds, and for that purpose I should have
taken service with the Mahdi; for almost all our fellows are hurt with
spears or swords, while all their wounded are shot. But now tell me
what extraordinary chance has brought you out here."
Harry told his story, leaving out, however, all that part about his
uncle, the Tipperary Sheikh, who was now in all probability in the ranks
of the enemy Hicks Pasha's force was about to attack.