His heart had gradually hardened towards Egypt. Power had emphasised a certain smallness in him. Personal considerations informed the policy of the moment. He was not going to be dragged at the chariot-wheels of the Quaker. To be passive, when David in Egypt had asked for active interest; to delay, when urgency was important to Claridge Pasha; to speak coldly on Egyptian affairs to his chief, the weak Foreign Secretary, this was the policy he had begun. So he answered now: “It is the duty of the Egyptian Government to help him--of Prince Kaid, of Nahoum Pasha, who is acting for him in his absence, who governs finance, and therefore the army. Egypt does not belong to England.” “Nahoum Pasha is his enemy. He will do nothing to help, unless you force him.” “Why do you say that?” “Because I know Nahoum Pasha.” “When did you know Nahoum?” “In Egypt, years ago.” “Your acquaintance is more varied than I thought,” he said sarcastically. “Oh, do not speak to me like that!” she returned, in a low, indignant voice. “Do not patronise me; do not be sarcastic.” “Do not be so sensitive,” he answered unemotionally. “You surely do not mean that you--that the Government will not help him? He is doing the work of Europe, of civilisation, of Christianity there. He is sacrificing himself for the world. Do you not see it? Oh, but you do! You would realise his work if you knew Egypt as I have seen it.” “Expediency must govern the policy of nations,” he answered critically. “But, if through your expediency he is killed like a rat in a trap, and his work goes to pieces--all undone! Is there no right in the matter?” “In affairs of state other circumstances than absolute ‘right’ enter. Here and there the individual is sacrificed who otherwise would be saved--if it were expedient.” “Oh, Eglington! He is of your own county, of your own village, is your neighbour, a man of whom all England should be proud. You can intervene if you will be just, and say you will. I know that intervention has been discussed in the Cabinet.” “You say he is of my county. So are many people, and yet they are not county people. A neighbour he was, but more in a Scriptural than social sense.” He was hurting her purposely. She made a protesting motion of her hand. “No, no, no, do not be so small. This is a great matter. Do a great thing now; help it to be done for your own honour, for England’s honour--for a good man’s sake, for your country’s sake.” There came a knock at the door. An instant afterwards a secretary entered. “A message from the Prime Minister, sir.” He handed over a paper. “Will you excuse me?” he asked Hylda suavely, in his eyes the enigmatical look that had chilled her so often before. She felt that her appeal had been useless. She prepared to leave the room. He took her hand, kissed it gallantly, and showed her out. It was his way--too civil to be real.