"There, there, my lad," said the officer, becoming serious, "I was not laughing at your troubles, but the way you put them. Now I dare say we can do something for you. You say you speak Arabic. Well," as George nodded in assent, "I'll see the consul and try to use my influence with him in getting you a job as interpreter. How'll that do?"
"Excellently," replied our hero, beaming with delight; "but how about Osterberg?"
"Ah, well, we'll look after him. He has his bank to go to, and I don't suppose for a moment Arabi will be allowed to remain in Alexandria for long. In fact, news came through this morning that the British warships were bombarding the place already, and if that is so, the blue-jackets will soon clear the town of the rabble. In the meantime provision will be made for him."
Osterberg thanked him for his kind words, and the trio fell to discussing their journey from Varna to Constantinople.
"By the way," said the doctor, "didn't you say that another fellow left the University with you? He played you a scurvy trick or something—didn't you say?"
"Yes, you mean Mark Arden," said Helmar quickly.
"Was that his name? You didn't tell me before. Strange——"
"Why, what do you mean?" asked both young men in a breath.
"Oh, it's nothing. Only some weeks ago a young German of that name came here and he was found some employment. I forget exactly what. Anyhow the fellow misbehaved himself—stole some money or something and was imprisoned. There was a frightful scene when sentence was passed on him. He swore revenge for what he called 'the insulting treatment,' was taken away to the cells, and three days afterwards escaped."
"What was he like?" asked George.