failure was
due very much to impatience and wrong-headedness, and the mixing up of
political questions with his personal claims. He wrote a book, which
made some noise, and caused him to lose his appointment. Then he came
to me in Egypt, and was very useful.

"I should have liked him for a partner, but he went off to discover the
source of the Nile. He thought he had succeeded, and after a
disappearance of some years came back triumphant. But he had followed
the Blue Nile instead of the real branch, and the discoveries of Speke,
Grant, Livingstone, and Stanley were terribly bitter to him--drove him
quite mad, I think. Since then he has identified himself with the Arab
race, and seems to hate all Europeans, except his sister and her family.
With me he has never quarrelled, and I think remembers that I offered
him a home and employment when his career was cut short. What he is in
England for now I do not know. Perhaps only to see your mother once
more, but I suspect there is something else.

"He writes many letters, and makes a point of posting them himself. I
fear that he takes opium, or some drug of that kind, and altogether,
though it is inhospitable perhaps to say so, it will be a relief when he
is gone, and that will not be many days now."

After leaving his uncle in such a rapt state, it was curious to Harry to
see him walk into the drawing-room before dinner in correct evening
costume, and not wearing his fez. He was somewhat taciturn, ate very
little, and drank nothing but water, but his manners were those of a
perfect gentleman. After dinner he retired, and they saw no more of him
that evening.

Harry Forsyth had several other interviews with his uncle, who showed
more fondness for his company than he had for that of any other member
of the family, but who kept a greater guard over himself, and was more
reticent than he had been on the occasion of his first interview. He
spoke of Eastern climes, war, sport, and scenery, with enthusiasm
indeed, but rationally, and Harry grew interested, and liked to hear
him, though he never got over the feeling that there was something
uncanny about him.

One night, after dinner, when a fortnight of Harry's holidays had
elapsed, the uncle, on retiring, asked his nephew to come and see him in
the study at eleven on the following morning, and Harry, punctually
complying, found him seated on a chair before the large table with three
packets before him.

"Sit down,