Egyptians often came to Brindisi, and to him one name was pretty much like another.

He called them all "Howajja," and remembered nothing more.

He did not keep an hotel register.
Little and poor as this evidence was, I determined to go to Egypt.

It was now June, and terribly hot, even at Brindisi; I knew the heat must be worse in Cairo, but that was nothing.

If I could find this man, I should be rewarded a thousandfold.
Accordingly the next night, when an Austrian Lloyd steamer stopped at this little old-fashioned seaport on its way to Alexandria, I secured a berth and went on board.