When the General’s flurried words were spoken there was silence for a moment, and then Gordon, trying in vain to control his voice, said haltingly— "You know I don’t want to do this work, General, and if it must be done I beg of you to order some one else to do it." "That is impossible," replied the General. "You are the proper person for this duty, and to give it to another officer would be to—to strengthen the party of rebellion by saying in so many words that there is disaffection in our own ranks." "Then permit me to resign my appointment on your staff, sir. I don’t want to do so—God knows I don’t. My rank as a soldier is the one thing in the world I’m proudest of, but I would rather resign it——" "Resign it if you please—if you are so foolish. Send in your papers, but until they are accepted you are my officer, and I must ask you to obey my order." Gordon struggled hard with himself, and then said boldly— "General, you must pardon me if I tell you that you don’t know what you are asking me to do." The three old men looked sharply round at him, but he was now keyed up and did not care. "No, sir—none of you! You think you are merely asking me to drive out of El Azhar a number of rebellious students and their teachers. But you are really asking me to kill hundreds, perhaps thousands of them." "Fudge! Fiddlesticks!" cried the General, and then, forgetting the presence of the Pasha, he said, "These people are Egyptians—miserable, pigeon-livered Egyptians! Before you fire a shot they’ll fly away to a man. But even if they stay the responsibility will be their own—so what the dev——" "That’s just where we join issue, General," said Gordon. "There isn’t a worm that hasn’t a right to resent a wrong, and this will be a wrong, and the people will be justified in resenting it." The General, who was breathing hard, turned to the Consul-General and said, "I’m sorry, my lord, very sorry, but you see——" There was a short silence, and then the Consul-General, still calm on the outside as a frozen lake, said, "Gordon, I presume you know what you will be doing if you refuse to obey your General’s order?" Gordon did not answer, and his father, in a biting note, continued—- "I dare say you suppose you are following the dictates of conscience, and I don’t question your sincerity. I’m beginning to see that this empire of ours is destined to be destroyed in the end by its humanitarians, its philanthropists, its foolish people who are bewitched by good intentions." The sarcasm was cutting Gordon to the bone, but he did not reply, and presently the old man’s voice softened. "I presume you know that if you refuse to obey your General’s order you will be dealing a blow at your father—dishonouring him, accusing him. Your refusal will go far. There will be no hushing it up. England as well as Egypt will hear of it." A deep flush overspread the Proconsul’s face.