"Ah, _effendim_, he does not scorn to employ modern comforts, nor do I mean that he is a strict Moslem. But you saw the one who sat upon the step? The _harêm_ of the Pasha is well guarded; not only by such as he, but by the Nubians and by the other mutes." "Mutes!" "He has many slaves. His agent in Mecca procures for him the pick of the market." "But there is no such thing as slavery in Egypt!" "Do the slaves know that, _effendim_?" he asked simply. "Those who have tongues are never seen outside the walls--unless they are guarded by those who have no tongue!" It was a curious sidelight upon a more curious possibility and I was much impressed. "Your brother----" "Alas! I have warned him! I fear, most sincerely I fear, that one dark night the same will befall him that befell the son of my cousin, Ali." "And what was that?" "He climbed the wall of the Pasha's garden. There is a fig tree growing close beside it at one place. Someone assisted him to descend on the other. But he had been betrayed; the Nubian mutes took him--and they----" He bent and whispered in my ear. "Impossible!" I cried--"impossible! _báss! báss!_" "Not so, _effendim_--nor was that all. After that they----" "Enough, Hassan, enough!" I cried. "_Usbûr!_" Hassan sighed, raising fearful eyes to the minaret. III There has been nothing you are likely to disbelieve so far; but now--well, I specified at the beginning--no comments. Let me tell the story in my own way, and you have permission to _think_ what you please. There was a dance at Shepheard's that night, and young Forrest rather interfered with my plans again as to one of the members of the English party; I think I have referred to her before? That sent me home in a bad humor--at least not home; for as I was standing over by the Ezbekîyeh Gardens, wondering whether to go along to "Jimmy's" or not, I formed a sudden determination to go and have a look at the abode of Harûn Pasha instead! Mind you, I was not surprised to have lived in Cairo all these years without having heard of the place; I had learned things about the Mûski in the morning, from my tourist friends, which had revealed to me something of my pitiable ignorance. But I was determined to mend my ways, so to speak, and I thought I would turn my restless mood to good purpose, by improving my knowledge of my neighbors. I induced the torpid driver of an _arabîyeh_ to drive me out to Old Cairo. He obviously considered me to be even more demented than the rest of my countrymen, but since the fare would be a substantial one, he tackled the job. Mad expedition? Quite so; but you appreciate the mood?