"We come from the Khedive, and he bids us carry you his high considerations—"
"Yes, 'high considerations,' he said," interjected Dicky with his eye towards a fly on the ceiling.
"And to beg your company at dinner to-night."
"And the price?" asked Kingsley, feeling his way carefully, for he wished no more mistakes where this lady was concerned. At Assiout he had erred; he had no desire to be deceived at Cairo. He did not know how he stood with her, though her visit gave him audacious hopes. Her face was ruled to quietness now, and only in the eyes resolutely turned away was there any look which gave him assurance. He seemed to hear her talking from the veranda that last day at Assiout; and it made him discreet at least.
"Oh, the price!" murmured Dicky, and he seemed to study the sleepy
sarraf who pored over his accounts in the garden. "The price is
'England, home, and beauty.' Also to prop up the falling towers of
Khedivia—ten thousand pounds! Also, Gordon."
Kingsley Bey appeared, as he was, mystified, but he was not inclined to spoil things by too much speaking. He looked inquiry.
At that moment an orderly came running towards the door—Dicky had arranged for that. Dicky started, and turned to the lady. "You tell him. This fellow is coming for me. I'll be back in a quarter of an hour." He nodded to them both and went out to the orderly, who followed his footsteps to the palace.
"You've forgiven me for everything—for everything at Assiout, I mean?" he asked.
"I have no desire to remember," she answered. "About Gordon—what is it?"
"Ah, yes, about Gordon!" She drew herself up a little. "I am to go to
England—for the Khedive, to ask Gordon to save the Soudan."