George did not answer. He was thinking hard. At last he spoke again.
"Am I not in Cairo, then?" he asked in astonishment.
"No, you are in Gizeh, a little distance from the city. Cairo is in such a state of tumult at the present time, it would be impossible to keep you in hiding there after the part you took with the police. So my son brought you here to me for safety."
"How long have I been here?" he asked.
"Since that affair with the police officer," Mariam answered.
"Yes," said George, after another long pause, "I can see it all now; we were set upon. But how did your son find me?"
"He was with the crowd who went round at the noise of the fighting. The people thought you were killed, and so left you. But my son, Naoum, he loves not people of this country, and he saw you were not of them, so he stayed and discovered you were still alive. He is a good man is Naoum, and a dutiful son; he knows my feelings towards your countrymen, and he brought you to me here. I love the men of Europe, therefore I help you. Mariam Abagi does not love all and would not help many, but you are young to die."
As she finished speaking, a troubled expression passed over her parchment-like face, and she sat munching her lips, blinking at the flickering light. Helmar sighed and shifted his position uneasily. The keen black eyes were turned on him at once.
"But I can never repay you," he said. "You don't understand; I am a stranger—I have no money."
The old woman's eyes flashed in a moment, but fortunately she was in such a position that he could not see them.