"You are ill, and you must go to bed immediately, and let me put Gordon off until to-morrow."
"No, let him come. I want to hear what the Consul-General had to say to him."
In spite of himself he had to go to bed, though, and half-an-hour later, having given him a sedative, Helena was saying—
"You've over-excited yourself again, Father. You were anxious about Gordon when his horse fell and those abominable spears were flying about."
"Not a bit of it. I knew he would come out all right. The fighting devil isn't civilised out of the British blood yet, thank God! But those Egyptians at the end—the ingrates, the dastards!"
"Father!"
"Oh, I am calm enough now—don't be afraid, girl. I was sorry to hear Gordon standing up for them, though. A soldier every inch of him, but how unlike his father! Never saw father and son so different. Yet so much alike too! Fighting men both of them, Hope to goodness they'll never come to grips. Heavens! that would be a bad day for all of us."
And then drowsily, under the influence of the medicine—
"I wonder what Nuneham wanted with Gordon! Something about those graceless tarbooshes, I suppose. He'll make them smart for what they've done to-day. Wonderful man, Nuneham! Wonderful!"
CHAPTER III