The older part of Cairo was simply unbearable; the little Koptic community dwelling in the low huts, which reeked with dirt and vermin, would, one would have thought, have been glad to have died.
I had no success in Cairo.

A dozen times I was buoyed up with hopes, a dozen times my hopes were destroyed, leaving me more despairing than ever.

In spite of the terrible heat, all that could be done I did.
Recommended by an hotel proprietor, I engaged two of the shrewdest men in this wonderful city to try and find Kaffar, but they could discover no trace of him.

I went to mosques, to temples, to bazaars--in vain.

If he were in Cairo, he was hiding.
Oh, the weary work, the dreadful uncertainty! Hoping, despairing, ever toiling, ever searching, yet never achieving! The months were slipping by.