"He's after us--one of the Palace cavalry," said Lacey.
"Effendi--Claridge Effendi! May his grave be not made till the karadh-gatherers return," said the orderly to David.
"My name is Claridge," answered David.
"To the hotel, effendi, first, then to the Mokattam Hills after thee, then here--from the Effendina, on whom be God's peace, this letter for thee." David took the letter.

"I thank thee, friend," he said.
As he read it, Lacey said to the orderly in Arabic "How didst thou know he was here ?" The orderly grinned wickedly.
"Always it is known what place the effendi honours.

It is not dark where he uncovers his face." Lacey gave a low whistle.
"Say, you've got a pull in this show," he said, as David folded up the letter and put it in his pocket.
"In Egypt, if the master smiles on you, the servant puts his nose in the dust." "The Prince Pasha bids me to dinner at the Palace to-night.

I have no clothes for such affairs.

Yet--" His mind was asking itself if this was a door opening, which he had no right to shut with his own hand.