“Most certainly not!” answered Lord Devene, with a touch of his old sarcasm. “Are either of us people likely to repay to Government money to which they have no legal claim? How did the cash come?”
“Through a bank that would only say that it had been received from its branch in Egypt. Further, reports have reached us that the Tama oasis, which no one has visited for generations, is now virtually ruled by a white man who is said to have been a British officer, although its real chief is a woman. This woman, who is called the lady Mea, or after her territory, Tama simply, has recently put herself in communication with the Egyptian Government, demanding to be accorded its protection, and offering to pay taxes, etc. The style of the letter made it certain that it was never written by an Arab woman, so a political officer was sent to see into the matter. He got to the oasis, and found that it is a perfect garden, and very rich, having of late established an enormous trade in dates, salt, horses, etc., with the surrounding tribes. Of the white man, however, he saw nothing, his questions on the point being politely ignored. Still he did hear by side winds that such a person exists. That is all I can tell you about the thing, but it might be worth your while to follow it up. I hope you will indeed, and still more, that Ullershaw may prove to be alive. In my opinion, he has been a cruelly-treated man, and it is just possible that a fellow of his character, knowing this and not caring to defend himself, has chosen to remain lost.”
“Thank you, I will,” said Lord Devene, and going home he wrote a note to Edith telling her to come to see him.
CHAPTER XX.
REVELATIONS
As it happened, Edith had just left London for a week to stay with friends in Cornwall, and therefore could not obey Lord Devene’s summons till after her return. When at length she did arrive, she was shocked at the change in his appearance.
“You think that I look ill?” he said, reading her mind.
“Yes, I must say that I do, Cousin George,” she answered, as she contemplated his snow-white hair, shrunken figure, and thin face worn with sorrow and weariness.
“Well, you see, I am no longer young. Threescore and ten are the full years of man, and I have just completed them. But that’s not the worst of it; the old sleeplessness is back upon me with a vengeance. I have scarcely closed my eyes for six nights. This last job, the loss of my poor boy, has finished me, and now I don’t care how quickly I follow him into the dark; the sooner the better, I think; yes, the sooner the better.”
“Don’t say that,” said Edith gently. “I hope that you have a good many years before you.”
“No, no, nor months, nor perhaps weeks,” he added slowly. “My treadmill is nearly finished, the accursed wheel is going to stop. But,” he went on swiftly, as though to prevent her answering him, “I have sent for you to talk about your affairs, not mine. Why will you not marry Dick Learmer?”