"Who on earth can that be?" Rachel went to the door, opened it, and stood listening. "A telegram. Dicey is bringing it up. It's for you, Hagar." She struck a match and lit the gas. Hagar opened the brown envelope and unfolded the sheet within. The telegram was from Gilead Balm, from her grandfather:-- _Cables from physician and Consul at Alexandria. Terrible accident. Yacht on which were Medway and his wife wrecked. His wife drowned, body not recovered. Medway seriously injured. Life not despaired of, but believe it will leave him crippled. Ill in hotel there. Unconscious at present. Every attention. Your grandmother will fret herself ill unless I go. Insists that you accompany me. Have telegraphed for passage on boat sailing Saturday. Arrive in New York Friday morning. Get ready.--Argall Ashendyne._ CHAPTER XIX ALEXANDRIA "My master," said the valet, "is fond of Cairo and detests Alexandria. As soon as he is able to be moved, if not sooner, he will wish to be moved." "He is not able now," said Hagar. "No, Miss. He is still delirious." "The doctor says that he is very ill." "Yes, Miss. But if I may make so bold, I think Mr. Ashendyne will recover. I have lived with him a long time, Miss." "What is your name?" "Thomson, Miss." The Colonel entered. "He didn't know me. Nor would I have known him. He is pretty badly knocked to pieces.--What have you got there? Tea? I want coffee." Thomson moved to the bell, and gave the order to the Arab who appeared with the swiftness of a genie. "Is there anything else, sir?" "No, not now." "The English papers are upon the small table, sir." And Thomson glided from the room. The Colonel looked about him. "Humph! Millionaires fix themselves luxuriously." "I keep seeing her," said Hagar. "Her body lying drowned there." The Colonel glanced at her. "Pull yourself together, Gipsy! Whatever you do, don't get morbid." "I won't," Hagar answered. "I'm like you there, grandfather. I hate it. But it isn't morbidness to think a little of her." The Arab brought the coffee. "Turkish coffee!" said the Colonel, not without relish in his voice. "I always wanted to taste--" He did so, appreciatively. "Ah, it's good--" He leaned back in the deep wicker chair and gazed upon the latest attendant. "And what may be your name?" The figure spread its hands and said something unintelligible. "Humph! Comment vous nommez-vous?" "Mahomet, Monsieur." "We've come, Gipsy," said the Colonel, "far from old Virginia. Well, I always wanted to travel, but I never could. I had a sense of responsibility."