“It is not poetical justice, I grant you, especially since Karalampi retires to his native Smyrna with a handsome sum of hush-money in his pocket. But it puts it in a better light when you consider that if the Pasha had never employed Karalampi, he would never have had to pay. Or, to go back to first principles, it would have been the same if he had been content with one wife, or even with having had three, and had not married the Khanum Effendi, or if, having married her, he had kept her in better order. As for her, she has done for her son’s chance of inheriting any but a very small share of his father’s property, and brought herself very near a divorce, and that ought to keep her quiet for the future. Then she and her mother-in-law have quarrelled violently, and the Um-ul-Pasha has cursed Najib Bey, and taken Azim Bey into favour, which is also satisfactory. By the bye, that pupil of yours is a queer little specimen, Miss Anstruther.” “He is very happy just now in having realised an old ambition,” said Cecil, laughing. “He has been both the villain and the _deus ex machinâ_ of the story.” “Well, there’s no accounting for tastes,” said Sir Dugald, sententiously. “Ambitions are queer things. Egerton’s is to set things right generally, I believe. I hope you realise, Miss Anstruther, that you are in for a hornets’ nest at home? Egerton will go about hunting up abuses and attacking vested interests until you are universally hated, and even think with envy of us sweltering out here. Still, better at home than in Baghdad. There may be a niche for faddists in England, but in the East we want men who can pull together.” “And in your view that covers a multitude of sins?” said Cecil. “No, Sir Dugald, I am not going to begin an argument. I know that when you and I argue it only leads to our each being more firmly convinced of the truth of our respective opinions than before. But I am sorry, for one thing, that we are going to live at home. I used to like to think that we might settle down here, and Charlie could start a medical mission to help Dr Yehudi’s work.” “Poor old Yehudi! I think I should have been obliged to interfere to protect him,” said Sir Dugald. “He would have had the mob pulling the Mission-house about his ears in a week. No; for the sake of the Mission, and of the unoffending missionaries, I am sure we may be thankful that Egerton’s past record effectually prevents his settling in Baghdad.” “Well,” said Cecil, with a little sigh, “I think I am learning not to try and plan my life beforehand, but to take it as it comes. Nothing has ever happened yet as I have expected it.” “I should not have suspected you of being a disenchanted cynic,” said Sir Dugald, as he rose, but Cecil looked up at him in surprise.