Eileen started. Although he had endeavoured to hide it from her, she was perfectly well aware of her husband's intense anxiety on her behalf. She knew, although he prided himself upon having masked his feelings, that the presence of the Bedouin in Egypt had cast a cloud upon his happiness. Therefore she had not wished to tell him of her second encounter with El-Suleym. But to this direct question there could be only one reply. "I saw him again--this morning," she said, toying nervously with the pendant at her neck. Graham clasped her hand tensely. "Where?" "Outside the bazaar, in the crowd." "You did not--tell me." "I did not want to worry you." He laughed dryly. "It doesn't worry me, Eileen," he said carelessly. "If I were in Damascus or Aleppo, it certainly might worry me to know that a man, no doubt actively malignant towards us, was near, perhaps watching; but Cairo is really a prosaically safe and law-abiding spot. We are as secure here as we should be at--Shepherd's Bush, say!" He laughed shortly. Voices floated out to them, nasal, guttural, strident; voices American, Teutonic, Gallic, and Anglo-Saxon. The orchestra played a Viennese waltz. Confused chattering, creaking, and bumping sounded from the river. Out upon the mud walls dogs bayed the moon. But beyond the native village, beyond the howling dogs, beyond the acacia ranks out in the silver-grey mystery of the sands hard by, an outpost of the Pharaohs, where a ruined shrine of Horus bared its secret places to the peeping moon, the Sheikh of the Masr-Bishareen smiled. Graham felt strangely uneasy, and sought by light conversation to shake off the gloom which threatened to claim him. "That thief, Mohammed," he said tersely, "has no more idea than Adam, I believe, who your old porter friend really is." "Why do you think so?" asked Eileen. "Because he's up in Cairo to-night, searching for him!" "How do you know?" "I cornered him about it this afternoon, and although I couldn't force an admission from him--I don't think anybody short of an accomplished K.C. could--he was suspiciously evasive! I gave him four hours to procure the name and address of the old gentleman to whom we owe the price of a turquoise necklace. He has not turned up yet!" Eileen made no reply. Her Celtic imagination had invested the morning's incident with a mystic significance which she could not hope to impart to her hard-headed husband. A dirty and ragged Egyptian boy made his way on to the verandah, furtively glancing about him, as if anticipating the cuff of an unseen hand. He sidled up to Graham, thrusting a scrap of paper on to the little table beside him. "For me?" said Graham. The boy nodded; and whilst Eileen watched him interestedly, Graham, tilting the communication so as to catch the light from the hotel windows, read the following: "He is come to here but cannot any farther. I have him waiting the boy will bring you. "Your obedient Effendi, MOHAMMED."