"But why am I brought here? They cannot torture a prisoner of war!" he exclaimed. "But perhaps," as an idea struck him, "they intend to frighten me."
The gaoler guffawed in a sepulchral manner at what he considered his prisoner's simplicity; he did not understand that George was trying to convince himself against his own better judgment.
"Frighten, eh?" he said at last, when his gruesome merriment had ceased, "they'll not waste their time in trying to frighten a Christian dog! These things are not for show, but use. Since the white people came to this country, this place," he went on, with a comprehensive sweep of his hands, "has not been used, but kept more as a curiosity than anything else; now the Egyptians again rule, they will once more adopt the methods of our forefathers."
"Oh, yes," replied George, with growing irritation at the man's undisguised hatred for the white people in general, and himself in particular, "I know all about the mighty Egyptians and their forefathers. I've heard all about that before, but it has nothing to do with bringing me down here. What I want to know is, why I'm brought here."
At the sneering tone George used when speaking of the Egyptians the expression of the gaoler's face lowered and his eyes shot fire, and as he ceased speaking the man turned away, and busied himself with setting a great arm-chair in position in the centre of the room.
"You know a great deal about Egypt besides," he said in slow, measured tones, wiping cobwebs from a cumbersome piece of furniture, "and that is the reason you are brought here. Those who will not speak must be made to speak."
"I am ready to tell them all I know, and I can assure you it isn't much."
"About the British troops and their Commander's plans?" asked the man, with a stolid look of surprise.
Helmar burst out into a laugh, although he felt anything but like doing so.
"Why, man, how should I know anything about it—I am not an officer!"