He had little doubt that Sheikh Burrachee's signet-ring and the parchment in the silver case, would, properly used, find him safe conduct to his uncle, if living; but the getting back again he suspected would be much more difficult, for his fanatical relative would probably want to keep him when he had got him. But as Khartoum was a so much larger and more important town than Berber, so much greater difficulty was there in tracing an individual; and perseveringly and assiduously as Harry pursued his investigations, he could learn nothing. Most of those of whom he made inquiries were probably as ignorant as they professed to be; but there were some who, at the name of Daireh, looked at the inquirer with a quick suspicious glance. One of these replied with a verse out of the Koran, another with a proverb, a third said he never meddled with other people's affairs, and walked quickly away. After three days of fruitless inquiry, Harry was obliged to have recourse to the plan which he wished to avoid as long as he could--that of applying to the authorities. So he inquired for the house of Slatin Bey, to whom he had a letter of introduction, and went to deliver his credentials. Experience in transacting business on his former journey up the country had taught him how to expedite his reception, and a judicious application of baksheesh caused him to be introduced to the great man without too great delay. Slatin Bey read the letter, and received him courteously, motioning him to a seat on the divan, and ordering him a chibouque to smoke, and coffee. Harry knew that the great man must not be bustled, so he sucked at his long pipe with apparent complacency and indifference to all external matters, and said that he was an Englishman, who had come from London to bask in the sunshine of the Bey's presence. "England is a great country, and London is a great town--twice as large as Cairo. I am honoured," said the Bey. "And you need no interpreter? That is pleasant." "I speak but badly, but I can understand and reply," said Harry. "It is well," said the Bey; "and if you have a message for the Governor it is best delivered without an interpreter." "I have no message; neither, though a merchant, have I come to trade," said Harry, when after a few observations on fleets, armies, and Mr Gladstone--in which the Bey evidently tried to pump him--he thought he saw an opening. "My business is a private one. A man named Daireh, a native of Alexandria, went to England as a boy, and was brought up to be a lawyer. He has fled with documents, for the want of which I cannot obtain property which is mine by right, and I have traced him to Khartoum; and I request your Highness's omnipotent aid to find him, and induce him to make restitution of what is valueless to him, but of great importance to me." The Bey smoked a little while in silence, and then said-- "If these documents are of no use to him, why has he taken them?"