“Have trouble in getting in?” he demanded abruptly, before I had spoken.
“Why—er—the servant thought at first you were not in,” I admitted.
“That rascal!” cried the minister, “I have dismissed ten servants since I became secretary of the Society, for no other fault. Maghmoód knows that it is my duty to keep open house during the morning; yet for some reason I cannot fathom, an Arab domestic cannot bear the thought of seeing his master give assistance of any kind to Europeans in unfortunate circumstances. It is a servant problem that has often been discussed among English residents; yet even the plumber and the carpenter continue to be shut out from houses where they have been sent for, unless they are well acquainted with native tricks.
“Now as to your case”—he needed no enlightenment as to my errand, evidently—“you need clothes, of course. Ordinarily, I have several suits on hand, sent by Englishmen in the city; but there has been such a run of German tramps that I have nothing left. I shall have something before long, surely. Meanwhile, I will give you a four-day ticket to the Asile Rudolph, our Society building. What is your trade?”
“I have worked as carpenter, mason, blacksmith, stevedore—”
“Good! Good!” said the rector. “You should find work easily. If you don’t, come back when your ticket runs out. I shall call Maghmoód up on the carpet. Good-day, my man.”
I hastened to join the German.
“That’s good as a beginning,” he said, as I displayed the ticket, “It shows you are on the trail, and you can work him for tickets for two or three weeks. But I must get back to my desk. Follow this avenue to the parade grounds; where you saw the Khedive’s guard drilling, you know. The Asile is close by.”
An Arab café in Old Cairo