ck snub nose, and a pair of
vacant and protruding eyes gave to him an aspect of invincible
stupidity. He spoke but seldom, and never to the point, but rather to
some point long forgotten which he had since been laboriously revolving
in his mind; and he continually twisted a moustache, of which the ends
curled up toward his eyes with a ridiculous ferocity,--a man whom one
would dismiss from mind as of no consequence upon a first thought, and
take again into one's consideration upon a second. For he was born
stubborn as well as stupid; and the harm which his stupidity might do,
his stubbornness would hinder him from admitting. He was not a man to be
persuaded; having few ideas, he clung to them. It was no use to argue
with him, for he did not hear the argument, but behind his vacant eyes
all the while he turned over his crippled thoughts and was satisfied.
The fourth at the table was Durrance, a lieutenant of the East Surrey
Regiment, and Feversham's friend, who had come in answer to a telegram.

This was June of the year 1882, and the thoughts of civilians turned
toward Egypt with anxiety; those of soldiers, with an eager
anticipation. Arabi Pasha, in spite of threats, was steadily
strengthening the fortifications of Alexandria, and already a long
way to the south, the other, the great danger, was swelling like a
thunder-cloud. A year had passed since a young, slight, and tall
Dongolawi, Mohammed Ahmed, had marched through the villages of the White
Nile, preaching with the fire of a Wesley the coming of a Saviour. The
passionate victims of the Turkish tax-gatherer had listened, had heard
the promise repeated in the whispers of the wind in the withered grass,
had found the holy names imprinted even upon the eggs they gathered up.
In 1882 Mohammed had declared himself that Saviour, and had won his
first battles against the Turks.

"There will be trouble," said Trench, and the sentence was the text on
which three of the four men talked. In a rare interval, however, the
fourth, Harry Feversham, spoke upon a different subject.

"I am very glad you were all able to dine with me to-night. I
telegraphed to Castleton as well, an officer of ours," he explained to
Durrance, "but he was dining with a big man in the War Office, and
leaves for Scotland afterwards, so that he could not come. I have news
of a sort."

The three men leaned forward, their minds still full of the dominant
subject. But it was not about the prospect of wa