"I suppose we might be able to punish him yet," said Dicky meditatively.
"If Ismail turned rusty, we could soon settle him, I fancy. Certainly,
you present a strong case." He peered innocently into the distance.

"But could it be done--but would you?" she asked, suddenly leaning
forward. "If you would, you could--you could!"

"If I did it at all, if I could make up my mind to it, it should be done
thoroughly--no half measures."

"What would be the whole measures?" she asked eagerly, but with a
certain faint shrinking, for Dicky seemed cold-blooded.

"Of course you never could tell what would happen when Ismail throws the
slipper. This isn't a country where things are cut and dried, and done
according to Hoyle. You get a new combination every time you pull a
string. Where there's no system and a thousand methods you have to run
risks. Kingsley Bey might get mangled in the machinery."

She shrank a little. "It is all barbarous."

"Well, I don't know. He is guilty, isn't he? You said you would like to
see him in the prisoner's dock. You would probably convict him of
killing as well as slavery. You would torture him with prison, and then
hang him in the end. Ismail would probably get into a rage--pretended,
of course--and send an army against him. Kingsley would make a fight for
it, and lose his head--all in the interest of a sudden sense of duty on
the part of the Khedive. All Europe would applaud--all save England, and
what could she do? Can she defend slavery? There'll be no kid-gloved
justice meted out to Kingsley by the Khedive, if he starts a campaign