CHAPTER XIX 



AT various periods of my strenuous life, I have arrived 

 at certain crises of a more or less devastating charac- 

 ter. On one such occasion, being " all torn out," broken- 

 hearted, and on the verge of neurasthenia, a " Deus ex 

 machina " appeared in the person of my cousin and partner, 

 Ted Jaquet, who was accompanied by his gentle wife Ida. 



" Look here, Cockie, old chap," he said, " this won't do. 

 Unless you take a pull we shall have you carted off to the 

 nearest lunatic asylum before you know where you are. 

 Ida and I have put our heads together and have decided to 

 whisk you off to sunnier and more congenial climes, where, 

 amid new surroundings and plenty of sport, you are bound 

 to find respite and nepenthe from harrowing memories." 



Well, I was much too weak and distressed to argue the 

 matter, even had I felt so inclined. On the contrary, my 

 weary soul saw a glimmer of light through the drab clouds 

 of my despair ; so I jumped at the proposition with alacrity 

 and thankfulness. 



Behold us then, three weeks later, at Ismailia, with the 

 addition to the party of my cousin's dinky little daughter 

 my godchild, Phyllis (at that time about nine years of age) 

 plus my redoubtable valet, Thomas Bedford, who was then 

 a widower with only a vague inclination to resume matrimonial 

 amenities by taking the fatal oath of allegiance to the fair 

 Flora, our most admirable cook. 



It was about 3 a.m. when we set foot on the ramshackle 

 landing-stage, having been conveyed thither by a steam 

 launch from the good ship Oroya, We adjourned to the only 

 likely looking hotel, situated within a stone's throw of the 

 wharf. We had not retired to " rest " (save the mark !) 



211 14* 



