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But huntin' as large a country as we do, we mayn't be back at that village for a month, and if the dressings ain't renewed, and gangrene sets in, often as not you find your man pegging about on his stumps. We've a well-known local name for 'em down the river. We call 'em the Mudir's Cranes. You see, I persuaded the Governor only to bastinado on one foot." "On one foot? The Mudir's Cranes!"
The Mudir's hand ran out like a snake towards a bell on the cushions, but Dicky shot forward and caught the wrist in his slim, steel-like fingers. There was a hard glitter in his eyes as he looked down into the eyes of the master of a hundred slaves, the ruler of a province. "I have a command of the Khedive to bring you to Cairo, and to kill you if you resist," said Dicky.
"O Excellency," said the smooth voice of Farag, laying the Field and Country Life square on the table, "is the afflicted of God who resembles Bigglebai one with the man whom the Inspector met in the great house in England, and to whom he told the tale of the Mudir's Cranes?" "The same man, Farag," said the Inspector.
I had been making a visit to the mudir of the province through which we were passing, and, after pipes and coffee, and the usual ceremonies, I mounted my horse, and, at the head of my escort, rode out of the mudir's courtyard, when my eye was caught by the flutter of the robes of a woman in a garden across the road.
Then one of the mudîr's two soldiers, searching in the brushwood, cried: 'I have the remnant of an arm. And then an old man of the village smote his leg and cried: 'O my friends, I see it! Here is neither lies nor devilry. Laughing, he seized me by the arm and bade me come with him.
The Mudir's hand ran out like a snake towards a bell on the cushions, but Dicky shot forward and caught the wrist in his slim, steel-like fingers. There was a hard glitter in his eyes as he looked down into the eyes of the master of a hundred slaves, the ruler of a province. "I have a command of the Khedive to bring you to Cairo, and to kill you if you resist," said Dicky.
She is to die to-morrow by the will of the people and the Mudir of the Fayoum." Dicky paused once more. He did not look at the Mudir, but out of the window towards the Bahr-el-Yusef, where the fellaheen of the Mudir's estate toiled like beasts of burden with the barges and the great khiassas laden with cotton and sugar-cane. "God make your words merciful!" said the Mudir.
Dicky heard, but did no more than fasten his eyes upon the Mudir for a moment. "Your business?" asked the Mudir. "The business of the Khedive," answered Dicky, and his riding-whip tapped his leggings. "I have come about the English girl." As he said this, he lighted a cigarette slowly, looking, as it were casually, into the Mudir's eyes.
The habitual serenity and complacency of the corpulent mudir's mind, however, is not to be unduly disturbed by trifles, and the untutored zaptieh's disposition to attach some significant meaning to it, meets with nothing from his more enlightened superior but the silence of unconcern.
Dicky heard, but did no more than fasten his eyes upon the Mudir for a moment. "Your business?" asked the Mudir. "The business of the Khedive," answered Dicky, and his riding-whip tapped his leggings. "I have come about the English girl." As he said this, he lighted a cigarette slowly, looking, as it were casually, into the Mudir's eyes.
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