m, be over them? Would
not a handful of gold bind them to me? Is not the man dead? Are they not
mine--mine to bind or break as I will?"

"So be it! Wisdom is of thee as the breath of man is his life. I will
drive Foorgat Bey to his home."

A few moments later all that was left of Foorgat Bey was sitting in his
carriage beside Mizraim the Chief Eunuch--sitting upright, stony, and
still, and in such wise was driven swiftly to his palace.

CHAPTER VIII. FOR HIS SOUL'S SAKE AND THE LAND'S SAKE

David came to know a startling piece of news the next morning-that
Foorgat Bey had died of heart-disease in his bed, and was so found by
his servants. He at once surmised that Foorgat's body had been carried
out of the Palace; no doubt that it might not be thought he had come
to his death by command of Kaid. His mind became easier. Death, murder,
crime in Egypt was not a nine days' wonder; it scarce outlived one day.
When a man was gone none troubled. The dead man was in the bosom of
Allah; then why should the living be beset or troubled? If there was
foul play, why make things worse by sending another life after the life
gone, even in the way of justice?

The girl David saved had told him her own name, and had given him the
name of the hotel at which she was staying. He had an early breakfast,
and prepared to go to her hotel, wishing to see her once more. There
were things to be said for the first and last time and then be buried
for ever. She must leave the country at once. In this sick, mad land, in
this whirlpool of secret murder and conspiracy, no one could tell what
plot was hatching, what deeds were forward; and he could not yet be sure
that no one save himself and herself knew who had killed Foorgat Bey.
Her perfect safety lay in instant flight. It was his duty to see that
she went, and at once--this very day. He would go and see her.

He went to the hotel. There he learned that, with her aunt, she had left
that morning for Alexandria en route to England.

He approved her wisdom, he applauded her decision. Yet--yet, somehow,
as he bent his footsteps towards his lodgings again he had a sense of
disappointment, of revelation. What might happen to him--evidently that
had not occurred to her. How could she know but that his life might be
in danger; that, after all, they might have been seen leaving the fatal
room? Well, she had gone, and with all his heart he was glad that she
was safe.

His judgment upon last nigh