She turned with a gesture of impatience, and in silence began to pour the tea the servant had brought, with a message that Madame had a headache. Kingsley Bey was about to speak--it was so unfair to listen, and she would forgive this no more readily than she would forgive slavery. Dicky intervened, however. "He isn't so black as he's painted, personally. He's a rash, inflammable sort of fellow, who has a way with the native--treats him well, too, I believe. Very flamboyant, doomed to failure, so far as his merit is concerned, but with an incredible luck. He gambled, and he lost a dozen times; and then gambled again, and won. That's the truth, I fancy. No real stuff in him whatever." Their hostess put down her tea-cup, and looked at Dicky in blank surprise. Not a muscle in his face moved. She looked at Kingsley. He had difficulty in restraining himself, but by stooping to give her fox- terrier a piece of cake, he was able to conceal his consternation. "I cannot--cannot believe it," she said slowly. "The British Consul does not speak of him like that." "He is a cousin of the Consul," urged Dicky. "Cousin--what cousin? I never heard--he never told me that." "Oh, nobody tells anything in Egypt, unless he's kourbashed or thumb- screwed. It's safer to tell nothing, you know." "Cousin! I didn't know there were Kingsleys in that family. What reason could the Consul have for hiding the relationship?" "Well, I don't know, you must ask Kingsley. Flamboyant and garrulous as he is, he probably won't tell you that." "If I saw Kingsley Bey, I should ask him questions which interest me more. I should prefer, however, to ask them through a lawyer--to him in the prisoner's dock." "You dislike him intensely?" "I detest him for what he has done; but I do not despise him as you suggest I should. Flamboyant, garrulous--I don't believe that. I think him, feel him, to be a hard man, a strong man, and a bad man--if not wholly bad." "Yet you would put him in the prisoner's dock," interposed Kingsley musingly, and wondering how he was to tell her that Lord Selden and Kingsley Bey were one and the same person. "Certainly. A man who commits public wrongs should be punished. Yet I am sorry that a man so capable should be so inhuman." "Your grandfather was inhuman," put in Kingsley. "He owned great West Indian slave properties. "He was culpable, and should have been punished--and was; for we are all poor at last. The world has higher, better standards now, and we should live up to them. Kingsley Bey should live up to them." "I suppose we might be able to punish him yet," said Dicky meditatively. "If Ismail turned rusty, we could soon settle him, I fancy. Certainly, you present a strong case." He peered innocently into the distance. "But could it be done--but would you?" she asked, suddenly leaning forward. "If you would, you could--you could!"