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Updated: May 12, 2025
I have heard strange stories in corroboration of this from persons whom I could not doubt, and about persons whom all the world knew. Thus, one who was with Fuad Pasha, the most European of Ottoman diplomatists, in his last days at Nice, assures me that his whole time was spent in a recitation of the Koran, learning it by heart.
After wandering about in different countries, I more by accident than design visited Constantinople. While there, I called upon that great statesman Fuad Pasha, the Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire, to whom I presented my letters of introduction.
He wore thick eyeglasses with stainless-steel rims. On his curly hair was a tarboosh of red velvet. In his hand was a gleaming, snub-nosed hammerless revolver, pointed at Rick's midriff. "I know it's late," the man said pleasantly, "but may I come in?" He walked through the door, and Rick backed away to make room. "Are you Fuad Moustafa?" he asked shakily. The man smiled. "I have not that honor.
The Egyptian Red Cross, under the presidency of His Highness Prince Fuad Pasha, being anxious to help its co-religionists, founded in March, 1915, a hospital for sick and wounded prisoners of war. This hospital is under the sole management of the Turkish Red Cross, which is in touch with the British authorities through Dr. Keatinge, Professor of the Faculty of Medicine at Cairo. Sanitary Staff.
If you will call me, I shall come at your convenience. Or, if you will do me the honor of breaking bread at my home, I shall be at your service. Since my home is also my office, any time that is convenient for you will be my pleasure. Sincerely, Fuad Moustafa." Rick jumped for the phone and called the desk, "See if Hassan is still around, please. Tell him to wait, if he is."
Born to a throne; weak, stupid, ignorant, almost, as his meanest slave; chief of a vast royalty, yet the puppet of his Premier and the obedient child of a tyrannical mother; a man who sits upon a throne the beck of whose finger moves navies and armies who holds in his hands the power of life and death over millions yet who sleeps, sleeps, eats, eats, idles with his eight hundred concubines, and when he is surfeited with eating and sleeping and idling, and would rouse up and take the reins of government and threaten to be a sultan, is charmed from his purpose by wary Fuad Pacha with a pretty plan for a new palace or a new ship charmed away with a new toy, like any other restless child; a man who sees his people robbed and oppressed by soulless tax-gatherers, but speaks no word to save them; who believes in gnomes and genii and the wild fables of The Arabian Nights, but has small regard for the mighty magicians of to-day, and is nervous in the presence of their mysterious railroads and steamboats and telegraphs; who would see undone in Egypt all that great Mehemet Ali achieved, and would prefer rather to forget than emulate him; a man who found his great empire a blot upon the earth a degraded, poverty-stricken, miserable, infamous agglomeration of ignorance, crime, and brutality and will idle away the allotted days of his trivial life and then pass to the dust and the worms and leave it so!
I accidentally hinted to His Highness, Fuad Pasha, that I thought the blockade-running could be put a stop to without infringing any law, especially where laws were so elastic. He seemed much struck with my remark, and asked me to call on him again in a few days. Now I had merely mentioned casually what I thought. I had no idea of anything serious resulting from our interview.
Born to a throne; weak, stupid, ignorant, almost, as his meanest slave; chief of a vast royalty, yet the puppet of his Premier and the obedient child of a tyrannical mother; a man who sits upon a throne the beck of whose finger moves navies and armies who holds in his hands the power of life and death over millions yet who sleeps, sleeps, eats, eats, idles with his eight hundred concubines, and when he is surfeited with eating and sleeping and idling, and would rouse up and take the reins of government and threaten to be a sultan, is charmed from his purpose by wary Fuad Pacha with a pretty plan for a new palace or a new ship charmed away with a new toy, like any other restless child; a man who sees his people robbed and oppressed by soulless tax-gatherers, but speaks no word to save them; who believes in gnomes and genii and the wild fables of The Arabian Nights, but has small regard for the mighty magicians of to-day, and is nervous in the presence of their mysterious railroads and steamboats and telegraphs; who would see undone in Egypt all that great Mehemet Ali achieved, and would prefer rather to forget than emulate him; a man who found his great empire a blot upon the earth a degraded, poverty-stricken, miserable, infamous agglomeration of ignorance, crime, and brutality and will idle away the allotted days of his trivial life and then pass to the dust and the worms and leave it so!
We picked up Ali the day before you arrived. We did not get Fuad until an hour before you visited him. The local people were nervous over the arrest. Many in that neighborhood support the Moustafas." Kemel Moustafa spoke. "I'm not in it. You can't prove that I am." Ben nodded. "Proof may be difficult. That is why you were allowed to remain at large while we collected your brothers.
For instance, Fuad Moustafa had written a polite letter claiming the cat, but strictly impolite and violent efforts had been made to get it. And where were the brothers Moustafa? Hassan drew to a stop before the great pyramid of Khufu. "We here. Want to go in?" "In a while," Rick answered. "We'll take a look around outside, first."
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