Cables at the clubs made it clear that England was not very pleased with the turn events had taken in Cairo. There had been questions in Parliament, and the Foreign Minister was at his wits’ end to defend the Consul-General. Mention of Gordon himself too, and some of the Liberal Opposition up in arms for him. "So wait, I say! Who knows? You may walk out without danger by-and-by." Thursday passed heavily with Gordon, who was alone all day long save for the visits of old Michael when bringing the food which went away untouched, but towards midnight Hafiz arrived with his eyes full of mischief and his fat cheeks wreathed in smiles. "Look!" he said, "that’s the way to beat the brutes," and holding up one foot he pointed to a native yellow slipper which he wore over his military boots. He had made a circuit of six miles to get there, though—it was like taking a country walk in order to cross the street. "But no matter! Trust yourself to Hafiz." He carried a small bundle under his arm, and throwing it on a chair he said— "Your Bedouin clothes, my boy—you’ll find them all right, I think." Gordon caught the flame of his eagerness, and was asking a dozen questions at once when Hafiz said— "A moment, old chap! Let us speak of everything in its place. First," taking a roll of bank notes out of his pocket, "here’s your money—short of what I’ve spent for you. Tommy got it. Couldn’t get anything else, though." Thinking civilian clothes might be useful, Hafiz had told Gordon’s soldier servant to smuggle a suit out also, but it had been found impossible to do so. "That comes of taking up your quarters in a barracks instead of at the Club or at a private house, as Staff Officers always do," said Hafiz, and when Gordon gave some hint of explanation he added, "Oh, I know! You wanted to make common cause with the men, but now you have to pay the price of it." "What about the man to go with me?" asked Gordon. "I’ve got him. You remember the two Sheikhs who went with us to Alexandria. It’s one of them." His name was Osman. He had been tutor to the Khedive’s children, but he wished to become a teacher of Mohammedan law in the college at Khartoum, so the journey suited his book exactly. "And the camels?" "I’ve got them also. Young ones, too, with ripping big humps! They’ll want their humps before they’ve crossed that desert." "Where and when am I to meet them, Hafiz?" "At the first village beyond the fort on the Gebel Mokattam at eleven o’clock to-morrow night. But I’ll come for you at ten and see you safely started." Gordon looked up in alarm. "Don’t be afraid for me. Leave everything to Hafiz. You can’t depend on a better man." "I’m sure I can’t," said Gordon, and then in a lower tone, "But, Hafiz?" "Well?" "What about Helena?" "Packed up and ready to go. The Consul-General’s secretary booked her berth to-day, and she sails, as I said she would, on Saturday."