"Well, well, the time is ripe," said Dicky piously. They found Kingsley
Bey reading the last issue of the French newspaper published in Cairo.
He was laughing at some article in it abusive of the English, and seemed
not very downcast; but at a warning sign and look from Dicky, he became
as grave as he was inwardly delighted at seeing the lady of Assiout.

As Kingsley Bey and the Ambassadress shook hands, Dicky said to her:
"I'll tell him, and then go." Forthwith he said: "Kingsley Bey, son of
the desert, and unhappy prisoner, the prison opens its doors. No more
for you the cold earth for a bed--relieved though it be by a sleeping-
mat. No more the cake of dourha and the balass of Nile water.
Inshallah, you are as free as a bird on the mountain top, to soar
to far lands and none to say thee nay."

Kingsley Bey caught instantly at the meaning lying beneath Dicky's
whimsical phrases, and he deported himself accordingly. He looked
inquiringly at the Ambassadress, and she responded:

"We come from the Khedive, and he bids us carry you his high
considerations--"

"Yes, 'high considerations,' he said," interjected Dicky with his eye
towards a fly on the ceiling.

"And to beg your company at dinner to-night."

"And the price?" asked Kingsley, feeling his way carefully, for he
wished no more mistakes where this lady was concerned. At Assiout he had
erred; he had no desire to be deceived at Cairo. He did not know how he
stood with her, though her visit gave him audacious hopes. Her face was