But Memphis was ere long left in his rear, and night was at hand, when—according to Hassan Abdullah's statement, on computation of distance—they should reach and halt at certain wells, about ten shoni distant therefrom, in the direct line to the Wady Faregh.
Memphis was, we say, left behind, and the two rode swiftly on. His former thoughts recurring to him, Malcolm Skene, checking his camel to let that of his guide come abreast of him, said to the latter:
'Your face is singularly familiar to me. Did we ever meet in Cairo?'
Hassan grinned and showed all his white teeth, but made no reply.
'Your face has some strange mystery for me,' resumed Skene, with growing wonder, yet fearing he might make the man think he possessed the evil eye; 'it seems a face known to me—the face of the dead in the garb of the living.'
'And it is so, Yusbashi (captain), so far as you are concerned,' was the strange reply of the Fellah as his black eyes flashed.
'What do you mean?'
'We met in the roulette saloon of Pietro Girolamo.'
'Right! I remember now; you are one of the fellows I fought with. I thought you were killed in that row!'
'Nearly so I was, and by you.'