Abdalla had not moved a muscle during the disturbance, or during Dicky’s speech. He seemed but the impassive spectator, though his silence and the look in his eyes were ominous. It would appear as though he waited to see whether the Englishman and his friend could free themselves from danger. If they could, then it was God’s will; if they could not, Malaish! Dicky understood. In this he read Abdalla like a parchment, and though he had occasion to be resentful, he kept his nerves and his tongue in an equable mood. He knew that Abdalla would speak now. The Egyptian raised his hand. “In the name of Allah the Compassionate, the Merciful, go your ways,” he said loudly. “It is as Donovan Pasha says, he stayed the hand of Ismail for my sake. Noor-ala-Noor, the Light from the Light, saw into his heart, and it was the honest heart of a fool. And these are the words of the Koran, That the fool is one whom God has made His temple for a season, thereafter withdrawing. None shall injure the temple. Were not your hearts bitter against him, and when he spoke did ye not soften? He hath no inheritance of Paradise, but God shall blot him out in His own time. Bismillah! God cool his resting-place in that day. Donovan Pasha’s hand is for Egypt, not against her. We are brothers, though the friendship of man is like the shade of the acacia. Yet while the friendship lives, it lives. When God wills it to die, it dies....” He waved his hand towards the gateway, and came slowly down the steep steps. With a curious look in his eyes, Dicky watched the people go. Another curious look displaced it and stayed, as Abdalla silently touched his forehead, his lips, and his heart three times, and then reached out a hand to Dicky and touched his palm. Three times they touched palms, and then Abdalla saluted Renshaw in the same fashion, making the gestures once only. From the citadel came the boom of the evening gun. Without a word Abdalla left them, and, going apart, he turned his face towards Mecca and began his prayers. The court-yard of the mosque was now empty, save for themselves alone. The two walked apart near the deserted fountain in the middle of the court-yard. “The friendship of man is like the shade of the acacia. Yet while the friendship lives, it lives. When God wills it to die, it dies!” mused Dicky with a significant smile. “Friendship walks on thin ice in the East, Yankee.” “See here, Donovan Pasha, I don’t like taking this kind of risk without a gun,” said Renshaw. “You’re an official, a diplomat; you mustn’t carry a gun.” “It’s all very fine, but it was a close shave for both of us. You’ve got an object--want to get something out of it. But what do I get for my money?”