life and enabled to give his last years to the study of the Koran. He
had been allowed to visit the old man from time to time.

To-day, as he walked through the noisy streets and smelt the obnoxious
smells coming from an infinite variety of Oriental foods and customs,
he longed to be back in the quiet valley, to feel the golden sand once
more under his feet, to see Margaret's eyes smile their welcome. If he
had caught the midday train, he would have been far away from Cairo by
now. Yet something had led him to the heart of Islam, to that strange
and unworldly seat of ancient learning. The very meaning of the word
Islam suggests the atmosphere of the place--resignation, self-surrender.

When at last he arrived at the gates and was admitted into the
splendour of the spacious court, his heart was lifted up. Its ancient
dignity, its divine sense of calm and, above all, the sonorous sounds
of the Moslems chanting their _suras_ of the Koran, intoxicated his
senses. As St. Augustine was intoxicated with God, so Michael was
intoxicated with the spirit of Islam.

He knew that at certain times--during Moslem festivals, for
instance--fanaticism often ran so high in this, the greatest of all
Moslem centres, that it would be dangerous for a Christian to set foot
inside the courtyard gate. It made him glow with pleasure that he, by
his little act of love--or charity, as it is less pleasantly
termed--was permitted to enter the courtyard at almost any time. This,
of course, he would not do; the _'Ulama_ had given him permission, but
he would not take advantage of his gracious offer.

To this richly-endowed university students come from all parts of the
world, merely to study the interpretations of problematical passages in
the Koran--poor students from India and China, wealthy citizens from
Tunis, delicate-featured Malays from the Straits Settlements and
negroes from Central Africa.

In the courts of el-Azhar these children of Allah become brothers;
their united flag is the green banner of Islam; their nationality is
Islam. This, Michael felt, was what religion ought to do for mankind.
He tiptoed softly along, winding his way through the devout groups of
students, until he reached a deep colonnade, supported by antique
columns of great beauty, columns which had probably come from ancient
Coptic churches, from Christian churches built in Old Cairo long before
Islam was preached in Egypt. The colonnade was dark and almost