llions, and sacrificed ministries
and men, to free the slave; and in England, you--you, Donovan Pasha,
and men like you, would be in the van against slavery. Yet here, where
England has more influence than any other nation--"

"More power, not influence," Dicky interrupted smiling.

"Here, you endure, you encourage, you approve of it. Here, an Englishman
rules a city of slaves in the desert and grows rich out of their
labour. What can we say to the rest of the world, while out there in
the desert"--her eyes swept over the grey and violet hills--"that man,
Kingsley Bey, sets at defiance his race, his country, civilisation, all
those things in which he was educated? Egypt will not believe in English
civilisation, Europe will not believe in her humanity and honesty, so
long as he pursues his wicked course."

She turned with a gesture of impatience, and in silence began to pour
the tea the servant had brought, with a message that Madame had a
headache. Kingsley Bey was about to speak--it was so unfair to listen,
and she would forgive this no more readily than she would forgive
slavery. Dicky intervened, however.

"He isn't so black as he's painted, personally. He's a rash, inflammable
sort of fellow, who has a way with the native--treats him well, too,
I believe. Very flamboyant, doomed to failure, so far as his merit is
concerned, but with an incredible luck. He gambled, and he lost a dozen
times; and then gambled again, and won. That's the truth, I fancy. No
real stuff in him whatever."

Their hostess put down her tea-cup, and looked at Dicky in blank
surprise. Not a muscle in his face moved. She looked at Kingsley. He
had difficulty in restraining himself, but by stooping to give her
fox-terrier a piece of cake, he was able to conceal his consternation.

"I cannot--cannot believe it," she said slowly. "The British Consul does
not speak of him like that."

"He is a cousin of the Consul," urged Dicky. "Cousin--what cousin? I
never heard--he never told me that."

"Oh, nobody tells anything in Egypt, unless he's kourbashed or
thumb-screwed. It's safer to tell nothing, you know."

"Cousin! I didn't know there were Kingsleys in that family. What reason
could the Consul have for hiding the relationship?"

"Well, I don't know, you must ask Kingsley. Flamboyant and garrulous as
he is, he probably won't tell you that."

"If I saw Kingsley Bey, I should ask him questions which interest me
more. I should prefer, however