“Send your troops where, your Highness?” said the hakim inquiringly.
“Peace, man,” said Mohammed Ali, recovering from a momentary fit of abstraction. “I was thinking of—of—of—perhaps of Darfour and Abyssinia.” A scarcely perceptible smile lingered on the lips of the medical interpreter, who had for some time suspected the ambitious views of his chief on Syria and Asia Minor, but he made his salam in silence and withdrew.
Meantime, while Abou-Hamedi was faithfully delivering the letters and messages intrusted to him, Hassan was no less diligent in the execution of the difficult task which he had undertaken. After being ushered into the precincts allotted to the Bashi-Bazouk guard, which included all the extensive area in front of the palace itself, Hassan remained for a considerable time apart, as if undesirous of communicating with them. His object was that they should come to him; nor was he long in attaining it.
Struck by his commanding figure and features, some of the loiterers about the door inquired his name of the guards who had brought him, and when they learnt that it was Hassan Ebn-el-Heràm, of whom they had heard so much, all flocked around him to scan more closely the appearance of the celebrated outlaw. Neither had he much to fear from their hostility, for being themselves engaged in a mutinous rising against the Government, they looked upon him as a sure ally during the outbreak expected on the morrow.
The intelligence of his capture and presence among them soon reached the farthest part of the barracks, and it happened that seven or eight were there who had formed a part of the band which, under Osman Aga’s guidance, had made so unsuccessful an attack on Hassan near Siout, and whom, it will be remembered, our hero had dismissed unhurt, after giving them some dinner and some money, and telling them it was a pity to see such fine fellows in so mean a service.
These men no sooner heard of his presence in their barracks than they hastened to greet him, calling out as they approached—
“Welcome, Hassan eed-el-maftouha, do you not remember us? We were of the party whom you treated so well when we were in your power, and when you sent back Osman Bey to Siout on a donkey.”
“I believe, comrades,” he replied, “that on that day I maltreated none excepting Osman Bey, and he had deserved it at my hands.”
“He was a brute,” said the first speaker, lowering his voice; “but Ali Bey, our present chief, is better: he always takes our part against those who rob and injure us.”
“Who are they who rob and injure you?” inquired Hassan.