fields of
Tel-el-Kebir and Kassassin, and still Pharos and the woman opposite him
remained seated in the same position, he with his head thrown back, and
the same death-like expression upon his face, and she staring out of the
window, but, I am certain, seeing nothing of the country through which
we were passing. It was long after midnight when we reached the capital.
Once more the same obsequious servant was in attendance. A carriage, he
informed us, awaited our arrival at the station door, and in it we were
whirled off to the hotel, at which rooms had been engaged for us.
However disagreeable Pharos might make himself, it was at least certain
that to travel with him was to do so in luxury.

Of all the impressions I received that day, none struck me with greater
force than the drive from the station to the hotel. I had expected to
find a typical Eastern city; in place of it I was confronted with one
that was almost Parisian, as far as its handsome houses and broad
tree-shaded streets were concerned. Nor was our hotel behind it in point
of interest. It proved to be a gigantic affair, elaborately decorated in
the Egyptian fashion, and replete, as the advertisements say, with every
modern convenience. The owner himself met us at the entrance, and from
the fact that he informed Pharos, with the greatest possible respect,
that his old suite of rooms had been retained for him, I gathered that
they were not strangers to each other.

"At last we are in Cairo, Mr. Forrester," said the latter, with an ugly
sneer, when we had reached our sitting-room, in which a meal had been
prepared for us, "and the dream of your life is realised. I hasten to
offer you my congratulations."

In my own mind I had a doubt as to whether it was a matter of
congratulation to me to be there in his company. I, however, made an
appropriate reply, and then assisted the Fraeulein Valerie to divest
herself of her travelling cloak. When she had done so we sat down to our
meal. The long railway journey had made us hungry, but, though I
happened to know that he had tasted nothing for more than eight hours,
Pharos would not join us. As soon as we had finished we bade each other
good-night and retired to our various apartments.

On reaching my room I threw open my window and looked out. I could
scarcely believe that I was in the place in which my father had taken
such delight and where he had spent so many of the happiest hours of his
life.

When I woke,