probing, probing without avail into Abdalla's mind and heart, and was
never more at sea in his life. It was not even for Donovan Pasha to read
the Oriental thoroughly. This man before him had the duplicity or
evasion of the Oriental; delicately in proportion to his great ability,
yet it was there--though in less degree than in any Arab he had ever
known. It was the more dangerous because so subtle. It held surprise
--it was an unknown quantity. The most that Dicky could do was to feel
subtly before him a certain cloud of the unexpected. He was not sure
that he deceived Abdalla by his simple manner, yet that made little
difference. The Oriental would think not less of him for dissimulation,
but rather more. He reached over and put a comfit in the hand of
Abdalla.

"Let us eat together," he said, and dropped a comfit into his own mouth.

Abdalla ate, and Dicky dipped his fingers in the basin before them,
saying, as he lifted them again: "I will speak as to my brother. Ismail
has staked all on the Soudan. If, in the will of God, he is driven from
Berber, from Dongola, from Khartoum, from Darfar, from Kassala, his power
is gone. Egypt goes down like the sun at evening. Ismail will be like a
withered gourd. To establish order and peace and revenue there, he is
sending the man his soul loves, whom the nations trust, to the cities of
the desert. If it be well with Gordon, it will be well with the desert-
cities. But Gordon asks for one man--an Egyptian--who loves the land and
is of the people, to speak for him, to counsel with him, to show the
desert tribes that Egypt gives her noblest to rule and serve them.
There is but one man--Abdalla the Egyptian. A few years yonder in the
desert--power, glory, wealth won for Egypt, the strength of thine arms
known, the piety of thy spirit proven, thy name upon every tongue--on thy
return, who then should fear for Egypt!"