. The dress he had selected was not one to attract attention;
he had modelled it on that of a Greek merchant who was continually
trading with the interior. He wore full pantaloons, a loose sort of
jacket, with a shawl bound round the waist, and his head was protected
by a tarboosh, with a turban wrapped round it.

But though his clothes did not look European, the pistol stuck in his
shawl belt was of the best, strongest, and most hard-hitting type. Old-
fashioned, indeed, so far that it was not breech-loading; for he had
considered that if he lost his cartridges, or spent them, his weapon
would become a useless lump of iron, whereas percussion caps, powder,
and lead, are procurable almost everywhere.

He went to the stall of a man who sold filigree work, and at his
invitation squatted down and had a pipe and a cup of coffee, while he
asked the price of several things. That was very well, but when he
began to inquire about the object of his search, the shopkeeper lost all
interest in the conversation.

He tried a money-changer with better success; he knew Daireh, but had
not seen him for months. More he could not say. After many more
failures Harry turned into a coffee-house, to sit down and rest, and
have a glass of sherbet and enjoy a smoke.

While resting in the comparative cool portico where he was served, a
barber came and offered his services, and Harry, suddenly remembering
how the barber in the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments" always knew
everybody, thought he would try his luck with him.

"I have come all the way from Cairo," he said, in reply to a bit of
characteristic curiosity, "and my business is with one Daireh, who
should reside here; for the last time our house transacted business with
him he was here."

"He was here but six moons back. And he came from the land of the
English to his cousin, who lived here. If you have dealings with
Daireh, I know your business,"--and here the barber looked inexpressibly
cunning--"Gordon Pasha spoilt that trade; but since he has gone there is
good profit to be made. And what are the pagans fit for but slaves,
sons of pigs that they are? But they tell me there will be fine times
when the Mahdi rules. Not that I know, but while I shave heads the
tongues wag and I listen. It is nothing to me. Mahdi or Khedive, what
do I care! All want to be shaved."

"To be sure," said Harry; "the wise man has the same opinion as his
customer. And where has the family