know that all right; they are fighting for you, Saadat."

David seemed not to hear. "Five hundred--so many, and the enemy so near,
the temptation so great."

"The deserters are all gone to Ali Wad Hei, Saadat. For a month there
have been only the deserted."

A hardness crept into the dark eyes. "Only the deserted!" He looked out
to where the Nile lost itself in the northern distance. "I asked Nahoum
for one thousand men, I asked England for the word which would send
them. I asked for a thousand, but even two hundred would turn the
scale--the sign that the Inglesi had behind him Cairo and London. Twenty
weeks, and nothing comes!"

He got to his feet slowly and walked up and down the room for a moment,
glancing out occasionally towards the clump of palms which marked
the disappearance of the Nile into the desert beyond his vision. At
intervals a cannon-shot crashed upon the rarefied air, as scores of
thousands had done for months past, torturing to ear and sense and
nerve. The confused and dulled roar of voices came from the distance
also; and, looking out to the landward side, David saw a series of
movements of the besieging forces, under the Arab leader, Ali Wad Hei.
Here a loosely formed body of lancers and light cavalry cantered away
towards the south, converging upon the Nile; there a troop of heavy
cavalry in glistening mail moved nearer to the northern defences; and
between, battalions of infantry took up new positions, while batteries
of guns moved nearer to the river, curving upon the palace north and
south. Suddenly David's eyes flashed fire. He turned to Lacey eagerly.
Lacey was watching with eyes screwed up shrewdly, his forehead shining
with sweat.

"Saadat," he said suddenly, "this isn't the usual set of quadrilles.
It's the real thing. They're watching the river--waiting."

"But south!" was David's laconic response. At the same moment he struck
a gong. An orderly entered. Giving swift instructions, he turned to
Lacey again. "Not Cairo--Darfur," he added.

"Ebn Ezra Bey coming! Ali Wad Hei's got word from up the Nile, I guess."

David nodded, and his face clouded. "We should have had word also," he
said sharply.

There was a knock at the door, and Mahommed Hassan entered, supporting
an Arab, down whose haggard face blood trickled from a wound in the
head, while an arm hung limp at his side.

"Behold, Saadat--from Ebn Ezra Bey," Mahommed said. The man drooped
beside him.

David caught a tin cup