Later.--I had to stop writing, for things have been going on-- several. I can see that Ebn Ezra has told the Saadat things that make him want to get away to Cairo as soon as possible. That it’s Nahoum Pasha and others--oh, plenty of others, of course--I’m certain; but what the particular game is I don’t know. Perhaps you know over in England, for you’re nearer Cairo than we are by a few miles, and you’ve got the telegraph. Perhaps there’s a revolution, perhaps there’s been a massacre of Europeans, perhaps Turkey is kicking up a dust, perhaps Europe is interfering--all of it, all at once. Later still.--I’ve found out it’s a little of all, and the Saadat is ready to go. I guess he can go now pretty soon, for the worst of the fever is over. But something has happened that’s upset him-- knocked him stony for a minute. Halim Bey was killed last night--by order of the sheikhs, I’m told; but the sheikhs won’t give it away. When the Saadat went to them, his eyes blazing, his face pale as a sheet, and as good as swore at them, and treated them as though he’d string them up the next minute, they only put their hands on their heads, and said they were “the fallen leaves for his foot to scatter,” the “snow on the hill for his breath to melt”; but they wouldn’t give him any satisfaction. So he came back and shut himself up in his tent, and he sits there like a ghost all shrivelled up for want of sleep, and his eyes like a lime-kiln burning; for now he knows this at least, that Halim Bey had brought some word from Kaid’s Palace that set these Arabs against him, and nearly stopped my correspondence. You see, there’s a widow in Cairo--she’s a sister of the American consul, and I’ve promised to take her with a party camping in the Fayoum--cute as she can be, and plays the guitar. But it’s all right now, except that the Saadat is running too close and fine. If he has any real friends in England among the Government people, or among those who can make the Government people sit up, and think what’s coming to Egypt and to him, they’ll help him now when he needs it. He’ll need help real bad when he gets back to Cairo--if we get that far. It isn’t yet a sure thing, for we’ve got to fight in the next day or two--I forgot to tell you that sooner. There’s a bull-Arab on the rampage with five thousand men, and he’s got a claim out on our sheikh, Mustafa, for ivory he has here, and there’s going to be a scrimmage. We’ve got to make for a better position to-morrow, and meet Abdullah, the bull-Arab, further down the river. That’s one reason why Mustafa and all our friends here are so sweet on us now. They look on the Saadat as a kind of mascot, and they think that he can wipe out the enemy with his flute, which they believe is a witch-stick to work wonders.