"Madame, I congratulate you on a useful memory. May it serve you as the
hill-fountain the garden in the city! Those indeed were my words. I
hear myself from your lips, and yet recognise myself, if that be not
vanity. But, madame, why have you sought me? What is it you wish to
know--to hear?"

He looked at her innocently, as though he did not know her errand; as
though beyond, in the desert, there was no tragedy approaching--or come.

"Excellency, you are aware that I have come to ask for news of Claridge
Pasha." She leaned forward slightly, but, apart from her tightly
interlaced fingers, it would not have been possible to know that she was
under any strain.

"You come to me instead of to the Effendina. May I ask why, madame?
Your husband's position--I did not know you were Lord Eglington's wife--
would entitle you to the highest consideration."

"I knew that Nahoum Pasha would have the whole knowledge, while the
Effendina would have part only. Excellency, will you not tell me what
news You have? Is Claridge Pasha alive?"

"Madame, I do not know. He is in the desert. He was surrounded. For
over a month there has been no word-none. He is in danger. His way by
the river was blocked. He stayed too long. He might have escaped, but
he would insist on saving the loyal natives, on remaining with them,
since he could not bring them across the desert; and the river and the
desert are silent. Nothing comes out of that furnace yonder. Nothing
comes."