The unexpected greeting brought a rush of color to Dick's face. But yesterday's cloud had vanished, and his natural embarrassment was obviously that of a well-bred man young enough to be delighted by the recognition. Moreover, he was not covered with mud, nor had his sensibilities been jarred by standards representing the hell and heaven of modern existence. He lifted his hat. "I am glad to see you have experienced no ill effects from yesterday's shock, Miss Fenshawe," he said. "Not in the least. It was a wonderful escape. Even the victoria leaves hospital this afternoon, I am told." Mr. Fenshawe, whose silvery-white hair and wrinkled skin betokened an age that his erect, spare frame would otherwise have concealed, patted Royson's shoulder. "You did well, Mr. King, very well. I am much beholden to you. And I was pleased to hear from Baron von Kerber last night that you have joined our expedition." Though of middle height, Mr. Fenshawe had to raise his hand as high as his own forehead to reach Dick's back. His eyes were shrewd and keen, with the introspective look of the student. Though it was more than probable that he was very wealthy, judging from the meager details within Royson's ken, he had the semblance of a university professor rather than a millionaire. "I think the good fortune is wholly mine, sir," said Dick, trying to answer both at once, and puzzled to determine how he could repudiate the name which von Kerber had fastened on to him. "No, we will not put it that way," and the other seemed to sweep some confusing thought from before his mental vision. "Let us say that the reward will be commensurate with the deed. We do not forget, we Fenshawes, do we, Irene? Good day, Mr. King. I hope to make your better acquaintance. We shall see much of each other ere long." Thus dismissed, with another friendly tap on the shoulder, Royson had no option but to raise his hat again. He received a very gracious smile from Miss Fenshawe, and he left the two with a curious consciousness that there was at least one woman in the world who had the power to send his blood whirling through his veins. As he walked off under the trees, the eyes of grandfather and granddaughter followed him. "A useful man that, for work in the desert," said Mr. Fenshawe. "Yes. Quite a Crusader in appearance," mused the girl aloud. The old man laughed noiselessly. "I find you are only half persuaded as to the peaceable nature of our task, Irene," he said. "I find it even more difficult to persuade you that Count von Kerber fears interference, grandad." "My dear child, these foreigners are all nerves. Look at me. I have spent twenty years of my life among the Arabs, and felt safer there than in a London crowd." "Yes, you dear old thing, but you are not Count von Kerber."