ly. He knew that Dicky had circumvented
him, and had warned the Bank.

Still the Khedive did not speak. Dicky went on. "Kingsley Bey deposited
ten thousand pounds--no more. But the gold is not there; only Kingsley
Bey's credit."

"His slaves shall die to-morrow morning."

"Not so, Highness."

The Khedive's fingers twisted round the chair-arm savagely.

"Who will prevent it?"

"Your Highness will. Your Highness could not permit it--the time is far
past. Suppose Kingsley Bey gave you his whole fortune, would it save one
palace or pay one tithe of your responsibilities? Would it lengthen the
chain of safety?"

"I am safe."

"No, Highness. In peril--here with your own people, in Europe with the
nations. Money will not save you."

"What then?"

"Prestige. Power--the Soudan. Establish yourself in the Soudan with a
real army. Let your name be carried to the Abyssinian mountains as the
voice of the eagle."

"Who will carry it?" He laughed disdainfully, with a bitter, hopeless
kind of pride. "Who will carry it?"

"Gordon-again."

The Khedive started from his chair, and his sullen eye lighted to
laughter. He paced excitedly to and fro for a minute, and then broke
out:

"Thou hast said it! Gordon--Gordon--if he would but come again!--But it
shall be so, by the beard of God's prophet, it shall. Thou hast said the
thing that has lain in my heart. Have I had honour in the Soudan since
his feet were withdrawn? Where is honour and tribute and gold since his
hand ruled--alone without an army? It is so--Inshallah! but it is so. He
shall come again, and the people's eyes will turn to Khartoum and Darfdr
and Kordofan, and the greedy nations will wait. Ah, my friend, but
the true inspiration is thine! I will send for Gordon to night--even
to-night. Thou shalt go--no, no, not so. Who can tell--I might look for
thy return in vain! But who--who, to carry my word to Gordon?"

"Your messenger is in the anteroom," said Dicky with a sudden thought.

"Who is it, son of the high hills?"

"The lady at Assiout--she who is such a friend to Gordon as I am to
thee, Highness."

"She whose voice and hand are against slavery?"

"Even so. It is good that she return to England there to remain. Send
her."

"Why is she here?" The Khedive looked suspiciously at Dicky, for it
seemed that a plot had been laid.

Thereupon, Dicky told the Khedive the whole story, and not in years had
Ismail's face shown such abandon of humour.

"By th