left for her to think of but death? She had no child. But death was a
black prospect; for you would go to heaven, and she would be in the outer
darkness; and she loved you! A woman's brain thinks wild things. She
fled from you, and went the pilgrimage to Mecca. She did all that a man
might do to save her soul, according to Mahomet. She is to die to-morrow
by the will of the people--and the Mudir of the Fayoum."

Dicky paused once more. He did not look at the Mudir, but out of the
window towards the Bahr-el-Yusef, where the fellaheen of the Mudir's
estate toiled like beasts of burden with the barges and the great
khiassas laden with cotton and sugar-cane.

"God make your words merciful!" said the Mudir. "What would you have me
do?"

"The Khedive, our master, has given me your life," said Dicky. "I will
make your end easy. The woman has done much to save her soul. She
buries her face in the dust because she hath no salvation. It is written
in the Koran that a man may save the soul of his wife. You have your
choice: will you come to Cairo to Sadik Pasha, and be crucified like a
bandit of your own province, or will you die with the woman in the
Birket-el-Kurun to-morrow at sunrise, and walk with her into the Presence
and save her soul, and pay the price of the English life?"

"Malaish!" answered the Mudir. "Water," he added quickly. He had no
power to move, for fear had paralysed him. Dicky brought him a goolah of
water.

The next morning, at sunrise, a strange procession drew near to the
Birket-el-Kurun. Twenty ghaffirs went ahead with their naboots; then