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As Helmar glanced at the faces of those nearest him, the expressions he saw written upon their features put all doubt as to their intentions at rest. He had said truly on his journey to Cairo that they were marching to "Death or Glory!" At last the gates were flung open and Major Watson's summons answered.
Helmar knew very little of Mark Arden; he had met him a few times with Osterberg, but he had no idea of the man's character. This, however, did not trouble him. In his open-hearted, manly way he trusted to his friend's judgment. In this he was wrong.
George replied in the same tongue, and the rest of the conversation was carried on in it. "Well, I can't promise you anything now at once, but Dr. Dixon recommends you highly, so that if we require any one, I have no doubt you will suit. You speak Arabic well for a man only a few months in the country." "I speak English and French as well, sir," broke in Helmar, "and "
Was he a magistrate, or some potentate of Arabi's army? He did not give him the idea of being a military man. His costume was decidedly that of the native civilian, and yet there was an air of stern command about the man that puzzled him. At a sign from the new-comer, the two men who held him proceeded to divest Helmar of his coat and shirt.
There was a momentary silence, and the two men exchanged glances of mutual defiance and hatred. Then, with an unpleasant smiling curl of the lip, the latter said "So, George Helmar, we meet again!" It was Mark Arden. Helmar had not been altogether unprepared for this meeting. Mark, he knew, was in the neighbourhood, but he had not been certain he was to be the arbitrator of his fate.
Helmar glanced with apprehension at his guards, and noted the fear expressed in their faces, while Abdu was grinning with the most intense malice. The driver evidently saw danger threatening his vehicle and whipped his horses up, but apparently some signal had been passed along the road, for the number of pursuers was momentarily increasing to a howling crowd.
"If that doesn't hold, nothing will," exclaimed George, ducking involuntarily, as a shot passed over his head. "Come on, boys, we'd better go back. No, on second thoughts, go you down and haul up the cable, I'll remain here and take care of him," pointing to the dying sailor. Without a word, the men darted off, and Helmar was left alone.
While he was yet eating his unsavoury meal one of the new men entered it was the man he had recognized. Glancing furtively at his fellow-guard outside, he advanced to the centre of the room, and with a smile that displayed a row of brilliant teeth, said "You remember, eh, de dahabîeh?" Helmar glanced up with a smile. "Yes, you helped us to beat off the rebels, I remember. I saw you this morning.
So interested was Helmar in what was going on that he forgot his pain and the torture to which he had been subjected, and laughed and cheered Abdu's assailant on with an enthusiasm that astonished even himself. The third man of his guard seemed in some magic way to have disappeared, but George had not thought about him, so busily occupied was he with the combatants.
Outside, the disappointed fanatics beat and hammered at the door, and every moment Helmar expected to see it forced in. He scarcely knew what to do. Suddenly he noticed in front of him a curtained archway; he ran towards it, and flinging back the heavy tapestry he started back as if he had been struck he stood face to face with a smiling countenance.
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