Under the Rebel's Reign Part 13

"Ah, my friends, we meet sooner than we antic.i.p.ated. I am delighted to see you, but am sorry for your plight. But come," he went on, shaking hands heartily, "this is no place to talk, we will go to my quarters."

Helmar and his friend followed the doctor to his rooms.

"So you managed to escape from Alexandria?" said Doctor Dixon, as he leant back in his chair after listening to the young men's story.

"Well, considering all things, you are lucky. Arabi Pasha, or his followers, are about the most inhuman devils I ever came across. And to think Arabi was one of the Khedive's most trusted ministers!

Well, well, we live and learn!"

"Now the point comes, what are we to do?" said George. "This rebellion has robbed us of our means of living, and we are simply thrown on the world without resource--at least without money. We have been to see the consul, but cannot do so for half-an-hour."

The doctor laughed. George felt angry at this outburst of merriment at their troubles, and his face showed it.

"There, there, my lad," said the officer, becoming serious, "I was not laughing at your troubles, but the way you put them. Now I dare say we can do something for you. You say you speak Arabic. Well," as George nodded in a.s.sent, "I'll see the consul and try to use my influence with him in getting you a job as interpreter. How'll that do?"

"Excellently," replied our hero, beaming with delight; "but how about Osterberg?"

"Ah, well, we'll look after him. He has his bank to go to, and I don't suppose for a moment Arabi will be allowed to remain in Alexandria for long. In fact, news came through this morning that the British warships were bombarding the place already, and if that is so, the blue-jackets will soon clear the town of the rabble. In the meantime provision will be made for him."

Osterberg thanked him for his kind words, and the trio fell to discussing their journey from Varna to Constantinople.

"By the way," said the doctor, "didn't you say that another fellow left the University with you? He played you a scurvy trick or something--didn't you say?"

"Yes, you mean Mark Arden," said Helmar quickly.

"Was that his name? You didn't tell me before. Strange----"

"Why, what do you mean?" asked both young men in a breath.

"Oh, it's nothing. Only some weeks ago a young German of that name came here and he was found some employment. I forget exactly what.

Anyhow the fellow misbehaved himself--stole some money or something and was imprisoned. There was a frightful scene when sentence was pa.s.sed on him. He swore revenge for what he called 'the insulting treatment,' was taken away to the cells, and three days afterwards escaped."

"What was he like?" asked George.

The doctor described him. There was no doubt about it, it was certainly Mark.

"The scoundrel," said Helmar, bitterly, "to think he should disgrace himself in such a manner! Has anything been heard of him since?"

"No, we found no trace at all, and I shouldn't be surprised if he made his way into the rebel camp. But come, we must get to business.

Osterberg can remain here until we return."

Helmar followed his friend over to the consul's office. The doctor left him for a moment outside while he interviewed the arbitrator of his fate.

Whilst waiting the result, Helmar could not help thinking of the perfidious Mark. What a viper he had been, and how quickly he had again fallen across his path! One thing was certain, if ever Helmar met him again, he would extort from him the money he had stolen, and denounce him for the rascal he was.

His reflections were cut short by the door being thrown open and a sharp summons for him to enter.

George found himself in a bare-looking office. The only furniture consisted of a desk, one or two hard, uncomfortable chairs, and a long, wooden bench. For decoration the wall was covered with innumerable paper files and maps. He had no time for inspection. He was standing in front of the desk, seated at which was a slight man.

He was partially bald, and his face matched his hair--it was brick-dust colour. His features were small, though clear and sharply cut, while his eyes were jet black and keenly penetrating. The doctor was standing beside him, and the pair eyed the young man as he stepped forward.

"German," said the man, without taking his eyes from Helmar's face.

"Any relatives in the country?"

"No, sir," replied George without hesitation.

"Want work, eh? Um," and he bit the end of his pen; "you speak Arabic, Dr. Dixon tells me?"

"Yes, sir."

"How much do you know?" he asked in that language.

George replied in the same tongue, and the rest of the conversation was carried on in it.

"Well, I can't promise you anything now at once, but Dr. Dixon recommends you highly, so that if we require any one, I have no doubt you will suit. You speak Arabic well for a man only a few months in the country."

"I speak English and French as well, sir," broke in Helmar, "and----"

"Yes, yes, I have no doubt--that will do. You will hear from me as soon as it is possible."

The doctor smiled at the way the interview was closed, but George simply expressed his thanks and walked out. Presently the doctor joined him, and the two walked back to the quarters.

"Well, what do you think of him?" asked the doctor.

"Who? The consul? A smart-looking man."

"A little abrupt, eh?"

"Yes, but all business men are more or less like that. If he finds me something to do, it _will_ be a relief, and anyway I can never thank you sufficiently for what you have done. It is strange, I always seem to be under obligations. First Mariam, then Naoum, and now you."

"Never mind that, my boy, every one must start in life, and to get that start one has to be under obligations to some one, if it's only your parents. Now about quarters? I'll arrange that you have a spare room with your friend in my house, and you must be my guests until something turns up. No, no more thanks, you've done quite enough in that line already."

In a few hours the two friends, Osterberg and George, were installed in the doctor's house. He was a bachelor, and his place was comfortably arranged. Everything he had he placed at their disposal, and for the next three or four days they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. At last the summons George had awaited came. After the doctor had finished his hospital duties he returned home with the announcement.

"Our fleet has bombarded Alexandria, and the blue-jackets have landed," he cried, as he stepped into the sitting-room. "You, Osterberg, will be able to return to your bank, and you, Helmar, the consul is going to send to the general commanding the forces there as an interpreter. Everything will be arranged here, you will be engaged at a certain salary before you go, and I believe you leave to-night."

The news was so good and had come so suddenly that neither of the young men knew what to say, they were so overjoyed. At length their feelings burst out in a torrent of thanks, from which the kindly doctor took refuge by leaving the room.

CHAPTER XI

A MYSTERIOUS MESSENGER

Everything turned out as the doctor had said, and at seven o'clock they bade good-bye to their friend and protector, and left for the transport.

They had three hours to spare before the boat left, and to fill in the time they went for a walk round the port.

"It seems to me the most marvellous thing, the way in which we have fallen on our feet," said George, as they walked slowly along. "No one can doubt but that a Higher Power guides our footsteps. The miraculous escapes I have so far had teach me this, if I had needed any teaching."