"That’s why! The press as a medium of disaffection was bad enough, but El Azhar is worse. It is a hotbed of rebellion, and a word spoken there goes, as by wireless telegraphy, all over Egypt. It is a secret society, and as such it must be stopped." "But have you reflected——" "Do I do anything without reflection?" "Closed, you say? The University? The mosque of mosques? It is impossible! You are trifling with me." "Have you taken leave of your senses, sir?" "I beg your pardon, Father. I only wish to prevent you from doing something you will never cease to regret. It’s dangerous work to touch the religious beliefs of an Eastern people—you know that, sir, better than I do. And if you shut up their University, their holy of holies, you shake the foundations of their society. It’s like shutting up St. Peter’s in Rome or St. Paul’s in London." "Both events have happened," said the old man, resuming his seat. "Father, I beg of you to beware. Trust me, I know these people. No Christian nation nowadays believes in Christianity as these Moslems believe in Islam. We don’t care enough for our faith to fight for it. But these dusky millions will die for their religion. And then there’s Ishmael Ameer—you must see for yourself what manner of man he is—careless alike of comfort or fame; a fanatic if you like, but he has only to call to the people and they’ll follow him. All the wealth and well-being you have bestowed on them will go to the winds, and they’ll follow him to a man." The Consul-General’s lip curled again and he said quietly— "You ask me to believe that at the word of this man without a penny, and with his head full of worthless noise, the blue-shirted fellaheen will leave their comfortable homes and their lands——" "Aye, and their wives and children too—everything they have or ever hope to have! And if he promises them nothing but danger and death all the more they’ll go to him." "Then we must deal with him also." "You can’t—you can’t do anything with a man like that—a man who wants nothing and is afraid of nothing—except kill him, and you can’t do that either." The Consul-General did not reply immediately, and, coming closer, Gordon began to plead with him. "Father, believe me, I know what I’m saying. Don’t be blind to the storm that is brewing, and so undo all the good you have ever done. For Egypt’s sake, England’s, your own, don’t let damnable scoundrels like the Grand Cadi and the Prime Minister play on you like a pipe." It was Gordon who had blundered now, and the consequences were cruel. The ruthless, saturnine old man rose again, and on his square-hewn face there was an icy smile.