A flash of triumph crossed her face. Her heart beat hard. Had it come
at last, the edict to put down slavery? Had the Khedive determined to
put an end to the work of Kingsley Bey in his desert-city-and to Kingsley
Bey himself? . . . Her heart stopped beating now. She glanced
towards Dicky Donovan, and her pulses ran more evenly again. Would the
Khedive have taken such a step unless under pressure? And who in Egypt
could have, would have, persuaded him, save Dicky Donovan? Yet Dicky was
here with his friend Kingsley Bey. The mystery troubled her, and the
trouble got into her eyes.

"You are going to Cairo?" she said, glancing towards the boat.

"It would seem so."

"And Donovan Pasha goes too?"

"I hope so. I am not sure."

"But he must go," she said a little sharply.

"Yes?"

"He--you must have somebody, and he has great power."

"That might or might not be to my benefit. After all, what does it
matter?"--He saw that she was perturbed, and he pressed his advantage.

She saw, however, and retreated. "We reap as we sow," she said, and made
as if to go inside the house. "You have had the game, you must pay for
the candles out of your earnings."