Max had sown the seed, and he had no desire to gather the fruit. He was quite willing that others should do that.
So he fell in with the views of Rashid, Barbasson and Nasr el Adin, and agreed to remain quiet in the city, while they kindled the torch of revolt.
Max slept well that night. It had been many months since he reposed in a regular bed in a comfortable room, with both male and female servants to minister to his needs.
True, the females were not lovely. They were very old, exceedingly ugly and bad tempered, but they did the work.
It was noon the next day before Max ventured forth into the streets.
He left the city and followed the course of the Nile.
A huge crocodile was basking on the bank, and looked lazily at Max, who returned the gaze, and wondered whether he ought to attack the peculiar animal or not.
While he was looking at the reptile a girl, unveiled, ran screaming past him, followed by a fat, ugly-looking man.
Max thought that it was a case of father chastising his daughter, but even then his blood boiled with indignation, for the girl was too old to receive corporal punishment.
The man overtook the girl and struck her over the shoulders with his cane.