“What was thy business but to prevent escape? Son of a Nile crocodile, if he has escaped, thou too shalt escape from Egypt—into Fazougli. Fool, Nahoum is no coward. He would remain. He is in Egypt.”
“If he be in Egypt, I will find him, Effendina. Have I ever failed? When thou hast pointed, have I not brought? Have there not been many, Effendina? Should I not bring Nahoum, who has held over our heads the rod?”
Kaid looked at him meditatively, and gave no answer to the question. “He reached too far,” he muttered. “Egypt has one master only.”
The door opened softly and the black slave stole in. His lips moved, but scarce a sound travelled across the room. Kaid understood, and made a gesture. An instant afterwards the vast figure of Higli Pasha bulked into the room. Again there were elaborate salutations and salaams, and Kaid presently said:
“Foorgat?”
“Effendina,” answered High, “it is not known how he died. He was in this Palace alive at night. In the morning he was found in bed at his own home.”
“There was no wound?”
“None, Effendina.”
“The thong?”
“There was no mark, Effendina.”