I had neglected the precaution, and had ample reason to regret having done so. Failing at the British Consulate, and unwilling to leave Cairo without being "en regle,"-the Egyptians warned me that Suez was a place of obstacles to pilgrims,[FN#18]-I was obliged to look elsewhere for protection. My friend Haji Wali was the first consulted; after a long discussion he offered to take me to his Consul, the Persian, and to find out for what sum I could become a temporary subject of the Shah. We went to the sign of the "Lion and the Sun," and we found the dragoman,[FN#19] a subtle Syrian Christian, who, [p.129]after a rigid inquiry into the state of my purse (my country was no consideration at all[FN#20]), introduced me to the Great Man. I have described this personage once already, and he merits not a second notice. The interview was truly ludicrous. He treated us with exceeding hauteur, motioned me to sit almost out of hearing, and after rolling his head in profound silence for nearly a quarter of an hour, vouchsafed the information that though my father might be a Shirazi, and my mother an Afghan, he had not the honour of my acquaintance. His companion, a large old Persian with Polyphemean eyebrows and a mulberry beard, put some gruff and discouraging questions. I quoted the verses "He is a man who benefits his fellow men, Not he who says ‘why?' and ‘wherefore?' and ‘how much?'" upon which an imperious wave of the arm directed me to return to the dragoman, who had the effrontery to ask me four pounds sterling for a Persian passport. I offered one. He derided my offer, and I went away perplexed. On my return to Cairo some months afterwards, he sent to say that had he known me as an Englishman, I should have had the document gratis,-a civility for which he was duly thanked. At last my Shaykh Mohammed hit upon the plan. "Thou art," said he, "an Afghan; I will fetch hither the principal of the Afghan college at the Azhar, and he, if [p.130]thou make it worth his while," (this in a whisper) "will be thy friend." The case was looking desperate; my preceptor was urged to lose no time. Presently Shaykh Mohammed returned in company with the principal, a little, thin, ragged-bearded, one-eyed, hare-lipped divine, dressed in very dirty clothes, of nondescript cut. Born at Maskat of Afghan parents, and brought up at Meccah, he was a kind of cosmopolite, speaking five languages fluently, and full of reminiscences of toil and travel. He refused pipes and coffee, professing to be ascetically disposed: but he ate more than half my dinner, to reassure me, I presume, should I have been fearful that abstinence might injure his health. We then chatted in sundry tongues. I offered certain presents of books, which were rejected (such articles being valueless), and the Shaykh Abd al-Wahhab having expressed his satisfaction at my account of myself, told me to call for him at the Azhar Mosque next Morning.