It was useless to ask the Khedive’s intervention--Ismail dared not go against Selamlik in this. Whatever was done must be done between Selamlik Pasha, the tigerish libertine, and Richard Donovan, the little man who, at the tail end of Ismail’s reign, was helping him hold things together against the black day of reckoning, “prepared for the devil and all his angels,” as Dicky had said to Ismail on this very momentous morning, when warning him of the perils in his path. Now Dicky had been at war with Selamlik ever since, one day long ago on the Nile, he and Fielding had thwarted his purposes; and Dicky had earned the Pasha’s changeless hatred by calling him “Trousers”--for this name had gone up and down throughout Egypt as a doubtful story travels, drawing easy credit everywhere. Those were the days when Dicky was irresponsible. Of all in Egypt who hated him most, Selamlik Pasha was the chief. But most people hated Selamlik, so the world was not confounded by the great man’s rage, nor did they dislike Dicky simply because the Pasha chose to do so. Through years Selamlik had built up his power, until even the Khedive feared him, and would have been glad to tie a stone round his neck and drop him into the Nile. But Ismail could no longer do this sort of thing without some show of reason--Europe was hanging on his actions, waiting for the apt moment to depose him. All this Dicky knew, and five minutes from the time Mahommed Yeleb had left him he was on his way to Ismail’s palace, with his kavass behind him, cool and ruminating as usual, now answering a salute in Turkish fashion, now in English, as Egyptians or Europeans passed him. II There was one being in the Khedive’s palace whose admiration for Dicky was a kind of fetish, and Dicky loathed him. Twice had Dicky saved this Chief Eunuch’s life from Ismail’s anger, and once had he saved his fortune--not even from compassion, but out of his inherent love of justice. As Dicky had said: “Let him die--for what he has done, not for something he has not done. Send him to the devil with a true bill of crime.” So it was that Dicky, who shrank from the creature whom Ministers and Pashas fawned upon--so powerful was his unique position in the palace--went straight to him now to get his quid-pro-quo, his measure for measure. The tall, black-coated, smooth-faced creature, silent and watchful and lean, stepped through the doorway with the footfall of a cat. He slid forward, salaamed to the floor-Dicky wondered how a body could open and shut so like the blade of a knife--and, catching Dicky’s hand, kissed it. “May thy days be watered with the dew of heaven, saadat el basha,” said the Chief Eunuch. “Mine eyes have not seen since thy last withdrawal,” answered Dicky blandly, in the high-flown Oriental way. “Thou hast sent for me. I am thy slave.” “I have sent for thee, Mizraim. And thou shalt prove thyself, once for all, whether thy hand moves as thy tongue speaks.”