As they turned to go, the door opened again, the black slave appeared, and ushered David into the room. David salaamed, but not low, and stood still.
On the instant Kaid changed, The rage left his face. He leaned forward eagerly, the cruel and ugly look faded slowly from his eyes.
"May thy days of life be as a river with sands of gold, effendi," he said gently. He had a voice like music. "May the sun shine in thy heart and fruits of wisdom flourish there, Effendina," answered David quietly. He saluted the others gravely, and his eyes rested upon Achmet in a way which Higli Pasha noted for subsequent gossip.
Kaid pulled at his narghileh for a moment, mumbling good-humouredly to himself and watching the smoke reel away; then, with half-shut eyes, he said to David: "Am I master in Egypt or no, effendi?"
"In ruling this people the Prince of Egypt stands alone," answered David.
"There is no one between him and the people. There is no Parliament."
"It is in my hand, then, to give or to withhold, to make or to break?" Kaid chuckled to have this tribute, as he thought, from a Christian, who did not blink at Oriental facts, and was honest.
David bowed his head to Kaid's words.
"Then if it be my hand that lifts up or casts down, that rewards or that punishes, shall my arm not stretch into the darkest corner of Egypt to bring forth a traitor? Shall it not be so?"
"It belongs to thy power," answered David. "It is the ancient custom of princes here. Custom is law, while it is yet the custom."
Kaid looked at him enigmatically for a moment, then smiled grimly—he saw the course of the lance which David had thrown. He bent his look fiercely on Achmet and Higli. "Ye have heard. Truth is on his lips. I have stretched out my arm. Ye are my arm, to reach for and gather in Nahoum and all that is his." He turned quickly to David again. "I have given this hawk, Achmet, till to-morrow night to bring Nahoum to me," he explained.