get homesick and come to Egypt again. But I learn to talk maybe some
like American peoples while I am over there."

It sounded plausible enough, the whole story. And if Mrs. East had
snapped the dragoman up under the impression that he came from a man
she had determined to meet, the fellow might be no more to blame than
any other boaster, touting in his own interest. Still, I had an uneasy
feeling that something lay hidden under Armenian plausibility. Bedr el
Gemaly was perhaps a thief who had courted a chance for a big haul of
jewellery. Yet if that were all, why hadn't he hopped off the tram, as
it began to move, with the ladies' hand luggage? He might easily have
got away, and disappeared into space, before we could wire the police
of Alexandria to look out for him. He had not done that, but had
waited, and risked facing my suspicions. And he must have realized,
while in charge of Monny's and Cleopatra's attractive dressing bags,
that he was missing an opportunity such as might never come to him
again. This conduct suggested an honest desire to be a good dragoman.
Yet--well, I resolved not to let the gimlets rust until Bedr el Gemaly
had been got rid of. If Mrs. East had really promised him a permanent
engagement, she could salve his disappointment by giving him a day's
pay. I would take the responsibility of sending him about his business.

Without further parley I opened the letter. It was short, evidently
written in a hurry. Anthony had scribbled:

Horribly sorry, dear old Duffer, but I'm wanted by the Powers that Be
in Cairo. No other reason could have kept me from Alexandria. I was
afraid a wire wouldn't reach you, so I sent a decent old chap by the
train I meant to take. He's pledged to find you on the quay, and he
will--unless some one makes him drunk. This seems unlikely to happen,