“But the Great Princess will never consent to talk with my lord.”
“Perhaps not; but she could send her scribe, or she might even talk with me through a curtain. Will you take the message?”
“My lord’s servant will carry the word, but there is no likelihood that the sheikh will consent. The stranger must not come into the land of the Beni Ismail.”
“Time will show. Good evening, then. Mansfield, see that the man has something to eat, and give him a few piastres if you think it will make him feel more kindly towards us. How long do you say it will take to get an answer to the message, Hicks?”
“Well, Count, I guess the sheikh has some of his men cached not so very far from the city, in case our blind friend has any news to despatch. Would you incline to have him shadowed?”
“No; he would find it out, and the discovery would destroy his rather shaky confidence in us. Suppose you jot down a few of the things we shall need for the journey. I expect to start the day after to-morrow.”
“Well, sir, there’s nothing like assurance, any way,” said Mr Hicks, sitting down at Mansfield’s table and appropriating his writing materials. “Do you calculate to take tents with you?”
“He’s a good fellow, Count,” said Mansfield, returning. “He would not take any money, because he said the Mission provided for his needs. I looked at his Bible in raised type, and he told me how astonished the Arabs were to see a blind man read. He seems to have some thrilling experiences to describe, if only I could understand his English; but it is rather sketchy.”
“You had better write an account of your interesting friend to Lady Caerleon. I know that Syria is one of her many favourite mission-fields. But while you are striking up an acquaintance with this picturesque character, here is Mr Hicks doing your work. Tents, did you say, Hicks? One small tent for the three of us. This expedition is not going to be a picnic.”
“You bet!” murmured Mr Hicks disconsolately, as he resigned his place to Mansfield, who wondered even more than he did at the calm confidence with which Cyril continued to make arrangements for a journey which neither of his companions believed would ever be undertaken. But his foresight was truer than theirs. When Mansfield returned the next day from visiting the bazaars, the citadel and the walls, the ruins of the Great Mosque, and other lions of Damascus, under the guidance of a Jewish youth, he found the blind Bedawi sitting outside the house and waiting for him. After puzzling out the meaning of Yeshua’s broken English, he entered Cyril’s room somewhat doubtfully.