otherwise they would be arrested off-hand. The artistic thing is,
to unmask honest countenances; it's no light task, I admit,
but a real art."

Mr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.

Little by little the scene on the quay became more animated;
sailors of various nations, merchants, ship-brokers, porters, fellahs,
bustled to and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected.
The weather was clear, and slightly chilly. The minarets of the town
loomed above the houses in the pale rays of the sun. A jetty pier,
some two thousand yards along, extended into the roadstead.
A number of fishing-smacks and coasting boats, some retaining
the fantastic fashion of ancient galleys, were discernible on the Red Sea.

As he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit,
scrutinised the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.

It was now half-past ten.

"The steamer doesn't come!" he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.

"She can't be far off now," returned his companion.

"How long will she stop at Suez?"

"Four hours; long enough to get in her coal. It is thirteen hundred
and ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea,
and she has to take in a fresh coal supply."