Thus it came about that Hercules White within twenty-four hours received a second visitor from Mahal. It cost him some time and patience before he grasped the gist of the Omda's rambling narrative, interspersed with stories of ancient village intrigues, in which His Excellency Darab Nishan Pasha invariably figured prominently. White asked himself again and again whether there could be any connection between the forthcoming brigandage at Ekait and the wrecking of the train at Mahal. In Upper Egypt, of course, all things were possible; and it was decidedly suspicious that the day of the week selected in either case was the same. But to destroy a train-deluxe, in order to get rid of an Omda, was like throwing out a whale to catch a sprat. In the end, he decided that his movements should depend upon the Pasha. If the latter did come on Saturday, White would accompany him to Ekait, and there await developments. In the meantime, he concluded he would consult Greenfield, the District Superintendent of Traffic, State Railways. Greenfield was interested, and readily undertook to help.

"The safety of the train is the first consideration," he remarked.

"Of course," replied White; "but can't we combine that and yet catch the Pasha, supposing the Omda's information is correct?"

"Well, let me see. Train 81-that's the de luxe, you know-is timed to arrive at Ekait at 8 P.M., and runs through Mahal without stopping. Your Omda says that the attempt to derail the train will be made just south of Mahal, desn't he? H'm, H'm," and he mused a moment. "I'll tell you what we can do. If your suspicions are correct, we'll give His Excellency the fright of his life, and perhaps even get a confession from him. If they are

swer a charge of illegal arrest. ᎠᎴ you stick at that responsibility?”

"Not a bit," was the cheerful reply. And the District Superintendent proceeded to expound his plan.

Saturday morning saw Darab Nishan Pasha hurrying to Sarafia, where he waited, fuming and anxious, until Hercules White had completed a leisurely toilet and breakfast. Presently he welcomed his visitor. "Good morning, your Excellency," he said. "How is the cattle plague at Mahal?"

Since the unfortunate contretemps already narrated, this was the last subject of conversation which the Pasha would prefer to discuss; but concealing his irritation he replied, "All finished; all gone. Thanks be to God, and to the Inglezi. Ah, where should we Egyptians be without the help of your honorable country, O Excellency? this very moment am not I imploring you to proceed without delay to Ekait? Do not fail your favorite servant in the hour of his need, but come with many police and loaded firearms. For the work is dangerous."

"What about you, Pasha?"

At

"I leave you not. Is it meet that I, a poor but brave man, should desert his only protector? No; a thousand times, no. I accompany you, and when the brigands advance, I fire my gun at your side-so," and the Pasha levelled his walking-stick to the height of his waist.

The two moved off to the railway station, where a smart young officer and four policemen awaited them. On arriving at Ekait, they found the house in a terrible state of confusion; for the information given had been incorrect, and the brigandage had taken place on the preceding evening. Cupboards had been ransacked, tables and beds overthrown, and everything of value carried off. Astonishment and rage

were depicted upon the face of the owner. He stormed and wept alternately, while the caretaker and the farm-servants vociferously called upon heaven to witness that their assailants were as numerous as the sands of the desert. Little by little, a more or less connected narrative was extracted. It appeared that the caretaker had been awakened at midnight by the sound of men's voices, demanding admittance. While the farm hands were intimidated by a constant fusilade, some of the band broke down the door and plundered the house of its contents. Empty cartridge-cases were produced to support these statements, and White himself picked up several, still lying on the ground in the vicinity of the house. As the district police had not arrived, he directed his own officer to open a Proces Verbal. While the formal inquiry was proceeding, White examined carefully the empty cartridge cases, and was slightly surprised to find that they were identically the same make. At that moment he chanced to look up at the window. In a corner of the garden the Pasha and his servant were

holding an animated conversation. With nothing but intuition to guide him, he determined to make a systematic search of the house at once. In the kitchen stood a large water-jar. White turned it upside down, and some cartridges fell rattling to the ground. He picked up one and compared it with an empty case. They were precisely alike. White whistled softly: he began to see daylight. Replacing the jar, he dropped both cases in his pocket, and proceeded to look for the inevitable gun. Having tried all possible hiding-places inside the house without any success, he turned his attention to the garden. There his eye fell upon an orange-tree, the earth at the base apparently having been dis· turbed recently. White turned over a sod or two with his foot, and at a

few inches below the surface a gun lay buried. He examined its barrel. As he anticipated, it was badly fouled.

"Never mind, Ahmed Effendi, taking down further evidence," he said to the police officer as he turned to the house. "I have found this gun. I want you to ask the caretaker whether he is its owner."

After a full hour of threats and adjurations from the police officer, the caretaker reluctantly admitted the fact. "Ask him, then, why he buried the

gun."

This question gave rise to another animated scene, the caretaker, firstly, denying that he had concealed the gun, and secondly, admitting that if he had done so it was from fear that the police would confiscate it.

"Does he know the owner of these cartridges?" asked White, producing the cases which he had found in the water-jar. With oaths and protestations the caretaker declared that never in his life had he seen cartridges of their description.

"Perhaps your Excellency," continued White, "may recognize them?" The Pasha took the cases in his hand. "No," he answered; "what should I, a man of peace, know of bullets? No doubt the brigands have left them."

"Very well, Ahmed Effendi, it seems we can do no more. I recommend you to arrest the caretaker. If you'd like to know my opinion," he continued, turning towards the Pasha and looking him full in the face, "I believe that the only brigand on these premises last night was your own caretaker. I am very much afraid, Excellency, that he misunderstood your instructions as to the date." The Pasha started. Recovering himself, he thundered, "O Muhammad, son of a dog that you are, what is this?"

"By Allah, I swear that armed robbers fired continuously during the night. You fellows," he cried, appeal

ing to the others, "bear me witness that I speak the truth."

Our

"Yes, Muhammad, we heard boumboum from midnight until dawn. ears are still deafened with the noise." "And you know well the difference between the gentle report of my gun and the boum-boum of last night?"

"That we cannot tell; for we are poor men, and unaccustomed to firearms." "Ah, my brothers, you must remember the ping-ping of my gun. You, O Mansur, remarked it, when I was shooting the pigeons last week."

"Write that down, Ahmed Effendi," broke in White. "He states now that he has been in the habit of using the gun recently. Well, I think that is all we can do at present," he continued, getting up from his chair. "You'll return in the train, Pasha, with us?"

His Excellency made a gesture of dissent.

"Oh, I think you'd better. It will be awkward for you to stay here alone, as your people, at least, must accompany us. Besides, the brigands may come again to fetch their unused cartridges." White paused a moment, and then added, "On your own head, then, be the responsibility. However, you must see us safely to the railway station." The Pasha bowed, and from that moment he became cheerful again. During the ride to the station he commented warmly upon the benefits which the British occupation had conferred upon his country. Thence he slid easily into a recital of his own virtues, laying especial stress upon the rare courage which he had displayed in giving information to the Inspector of the projected crime. Incidentally he criticized his fellow Notables severely for their lack of public spirit, a quality which he, Darab Nishan Pasha, placed higher than any other virtue. At the end of the ride, he begged the Inspector to attach no weight to any statement which the

caretaker might make at the inquiry on the following day.

The train-de-luxe, consisting of whitepainted sleeping- and dining-cars, ran into Ekait five minutes behind scheduled time. As the train drew up, Greenfield stepped out of an Inspector's travelling carriage, coupled behind the leading brake-van.

"The Pasha is here all right, I see," he remarked to White. "One moment; I want to say a word to the driver." He was back at once, and addressing the stationmaster. "Run, Effendi," he said, "and see if the tail lights are burning properly. Look sharp; we are already five minutes late.”

The Coptic stationmaster walked importantly to the rear of the train, and, assisted by his staff, swung himself heavily on to the permanent way. In the meantime, White and Greenfield had closed round the Pasha, who was standing at the opened door of the travelling car.

"Now then," whispered Greenfield, "I'll start the train, while the station staff are examining the lamps."

"Better change your mind, Excellency, and return with us. Really, no? Well, I think you had. In with him, Greenfield," and before the Egyptian could utter a syllable of protest, he found himself lying on the floor of the car with the door securely locked.

The train was moving rapidly before the Pasha recovered his breath. "Oh, you son of a dog. Curse your father and mother," he screamed at White. "I'll write to Lord Cromer. I'll have you dismissed from the Government, I'll," but at this moment he realized that the train was no longer at Ekait. "Stop the train," he yelled, "stop the train, I say, at once, you sons of English pigs. You don't know what is going to happen," and he made a rush at the door. Greenfield caught him round the waist, and swung him on a seat.

The

"Yes, yes, I had forgotten." speaker changed his tone. "O Excellency," he said to Greenfield, "let me speak a word to you in private.”

"Don't mind me," murmured White. "Stop the train at Mahal, and I give you £100."

"My dear Pasha," began Greenfield. "I am a poor man," whined the other. A spasm of fear contracted his face. "I will say £200."

"It's no use trying to bribe me, my good friend. Tell us the reason for your anxiety, and I will see what I can do."

"Oh, let me descend, let me descend," wailed the prisoner, sinking on his knees, "I do not wish to die: I have so many good works yet to accomplish." Suddenly he asked, "Where is the carriage placed in the train, O District Superintendent?"

"Right behind the engine."

"Then I must tell, there is no escape. Listen, and stop the train for Allah's sake."

White motioned to the police officer to take down the statement.

"The Omda of Mahal is a bad man, whom I have tried to guide into righteous ways. Between him and Ibrahim, Sheikh El Balad, also a bad man, exists great hatred. I do not cease to try to reconcile them, but without

avail,-write that down also, Ahmed Effendi," he observed in parenthesis, -"it will show that, even when my body is in danger, I am still mindful of my duty towards the Government."

"Only five minutes to Mahal," said Greenfield, looking at his watch.

"Then to-night this wicked Sheikh El Balad desires to destroy our train in order to ruin his enemy the Omda. For this purpose he has stolen timber from me to build obstructions upon the iron rail. I swear it. Now, Effendim, I implore you to stop the train, and allow this poor man to go in peace."

Greenfield jumped to the communicating cord and jerked it. The train began to feel at once the pressure of the brakes, and pulled up with a sudden jar alongside the platform of Mahal station. A sleepy railway official appeared, and stared with surprise at the sudden halt of the train-de-lure. He stared even harder when he saw Darab Nishan Pasha, held by two Englishmen, advancing towards him.

"Wait a bit," exclaimed the District Superintendent, loosing his hold of the prisoner. "I'll get my trolley, and will go ahead of the train to reconnoitre." The trolley was placed on the rails, and started at once.

"Gently," cried the District Superintendent to his trolley-boys, as he swung a railway lamp to the front.

"What's that in front?" said White, peering into the obscurity of the night. "Bas-enough," and the trolley halted at a formidable obstruction, consisting of two logs lashed crosswise, and secured to the permanent way by wooden pegs driven into the ground. Sheikh Ibrahim had improved upon his chief's instructions.

"Of all devilish contrivances!" ejaculated the District Superintendent. "Oh, Pasha, you and your friends of Mahal have most accursed imaginations."