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Updated: May 31, 2025
"It is not far," he said, in a peculiar, grating voice, "and I am going that way myself. It will take but a few minutes." Osterberg looked inquiringly at George. "All right, come along. You lead the way, old man," said Helmar, "and we will follow."
You have insulted not only our friend Osterberg, but the Debating Society of which I am a member. These things cannot go unnoticed. Apparently you selected Osterberg as a butt for your insults, knowing that, from the nature of his studies, he could not retaliate in the usual manner; but such cowardly bullying shall not be passed over, you shall account to me for your caddish behaviour."
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.
Belbeis and the guide now remained with the main body, whilst Helmar and Osterberg joined the officer, who, accompanied by an escort of four men, started at once for head-quarters. "By the way," said the officer, after they had ridden a little way in silence, "the man who was leading the rebels is a prisoner he is a white man. Do you know anything of him?"
But why are you here, and why all this mystery?" "But surely you know, George! You know what has happened?" said Osterberg. "I know nothing more than that Arabi is leading a rebellion against the Khedive's rule, with the object of deposing him, and that Cairo is becoming impossible to residents in consequence.
No, a thousand times, no! I am a homicide morally, no matter what the law may countenance. It is a barbarous custom, and one in which I can see no right. Oh! why did he not kill me?" And he turned despairingly to the window. Osterberg endeavoured to interrupt him, but he turned fiercely on his friend. "No, do not speak, my mind is made up. My studies are broken, I can never return to them again.
An ominous murmur went round the room as the door closed behind them, and an air of suppressed resentment pervaded the place. One and all felt that an insult had been offered to Osterberg, an insult which they knew, since he was a theological student, he would be unable to respond to in the customary manner.
"It seems so terrible," said Osterberg, with a sigh, "to think that, for the sake of one great villain, all this destruction should have taken place." "Yes, but you must not forget that if it hadn't, probably there would not be a single European left alive in the city," answered the practical Helmar.
They were not very pleasant, and he put them from him and went out in search of his friend, Charlie Osterberg. He had not the least notion of where to find him. He knew the Engineers had arrived, but he was not aware of where they were quartered. However, a soldier whom he met told him they were outside the western gate of the city.
Here they turned off, and soon found themselves in a lonely, obscure sort of disused brick-field surrounded by some tumble-down hovels. At this spot their guide suddenly stopped. "That is the Mosque, in the distance," he said, and without waiting for reply, hurried off at a pace that belied his age. "I believe there's some trickery," said Osterberg. "I half wish we hadn't come. What's to be done?"
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