"But wait! Things don't seem to be going too smoothly for the Government."
Cables at the clubs made it clear that England was not very pleased with the turn events had taken in Cairo. There had been questions in Parliament, and the Foreign Minister was at his wits' end to defend the Consul-General. Mention of Gordon himself too, and some of the Liberal Opposition up in arms for him.
"So wait, I say! Who knows? You may walk out without danger by-and-by."
Thursday passed heavily with Gordon, who was alone all day long save for the visits of old Michael when bringing the food which went away untouched, but towards midnight Hafiz arrived with his eyes full of mischief and his fat cheeks wreathed in smiles.
"Look!" he said, "that's the way to beat the brutes," and holding up one foot he pointed to a native yellow slipper which he wore over his military boots. He had made a circuit of six miles to get there, though—it was like taking a country walk in order to cross the street.
"But no matter! Trust yourself to Hafiz."
He carried a small bundle under his arm, and throwing it on a chair he said—
"Your Bedouin clothes, my boy—you'll find them all right, I think."
Gordon caught the flame of his eagerness, and was asking a dozen questions at once when Hafiz said—
"A moment, old chap! Let us speak of everything in its place. First," taking a roll of bank notes out of his pocket, "here's your money—short of what I've spent for you. Tommy got it. Couldn't get anything else, though."