With her face buried in both hands and the tears at last trickling through her fingers, she saw everything over again, and one thing above all—Gordon standing in silence while her father insulted and degraded him. The General opened his eyes, and seeing Helena at his feet he tried to comfort her, but every word he spoke went like iron into her soul. "I’m sorry for you, Helena—very sorry! We must bear this trouble together, dear. Only ourselves again now, you know, just as it was five years ago at home. Your dark hour, this time, darling, but I’ll make it up to you. Come, kiss me, Helena," and, drying her weary eyes, she kissed him. The afternoon sun was then reddening the alabaster walls of the mosque outside, and they heard a surging sound as of a crowd approaching. A moment later little black Mosie ran in to say that the new Mahdi was coming, and almost before the General and Helena could rise to their feet a tall man in white Oriental costume entered the room. He came in slowly, solemnly, and with head bent, saying— "Excuse me, sir, if I come without ceremony." "Ishmael Ameer?" asked the General. "My name is Ishmael—you are the Commander of the British forces. May I speak with you alone?" The General stood still for a moment, measuring his man from head to foot, and then said— "Leave us, Helena." Helena hesitated, and the General said, "I’m better now—leave us." With that she went out reluctantly, turning at the door to look at her enemy, who stood in his great height in the middle of the floor and never so much as glanced in her direction. *CHAPTER XXVI* Both men continued to stand during the interview that followed—the one in his white robes by the end of the sofa, resting two tapering fingers upon it, the other in his General’s uniform by the side of the desk, except when in the heat of his anger he strode with heavy step and the jingling of spurs across the space between. "Now, sir, now," said the General. "I have urgent work to do, and not much time to give you. What is it?" "I come," said Ishmael, who was outwardly very calm, though his large black eyes were full of fire and light, "I come to speak to you about the order to close El Azhar." "Then you come to the wrong place," said the General sharply. "You should go to the Agency—the British Agency." "I have seen the English lord already. He refuses to withdraw his order. Therefore I am here to ask you—forgive me—I am here to ask you not to obey it." The General tried to laugh. "Wonderful!" he said. "Your Eastern ideas of discipline are wonderful! Please understand, sir, _I_ am here as the instrument of authority—that and that only." "An instrument has its responsibility," said Ishmael. "If there were no instruments to do evil deeds would evil deeds be done? It is not your fault, sir, that the order has been issued, but it _will_ be your fault if it is carried into effect."