“You are my good genius, Forsyth,” said Kavanagh; “and if you will call on the Principal Medical Officer, and other great authorities, I have no doubt you will be able to help me to get away the quicker.”
“I should like to go home with you,” said Forsyth, “and will if I can. Let us once get to Cairo, and I can raise any necessary money on the strength of this,” and he tapped the will on his chest.
“Would it be too great a presumption to ask to see this portentous document?” asked Strachan. “I own to feeling some curiosity about it.”
“Not at all.” And he unwound it from its wrappings and produced it.
“And because a rascal clerk ran away with that bit of parchment, Kavanagh had to enlist as a private, and you had to go wandering over the world for years, leaving your mother and sister in poverty and anxiety!” said Tom Strachan, meditatively. “People are always talking about red tape in the army; surely there is still more of it in the law.”
“Oh, yes, naturally one would expect that.”
“Ah, well, I hope he got it hot; I do hope he got it hot! I will introduce you to all the people who can help you, Harry, but I must be off just now.”
Forsyth got every assistance from the authorities to take his wounded friend away. And his old connection with Mr Williams and the English firm at Cairo stood him in good stead; so that he reached Cairo, and embarked for England with Fatima and her patient sooner than he had expected.