Bismillah, I would fight Kaid's Nubians, but not this infidel pasha!" Never had David appeared to such advantage.

The victory over himself the night before, the message of hope that had reached him at the monastery in the desert, the coming of Lacey, had given him a certain quiet masterfulness not reassuring to his foes.
As he entered the chamber but now, there flashed into his mind the scene six years ago when, an absolute stranger, he had stepped into this Eastern salon, and had heard his name called out to the great throng: "Claridge efendi!" He addressed no one, but he bowed to the group of foreign consuls-general, looking them steadily in the eyes.

He knew their devices and what had been going on of late, he was aware that his fall would mean a blow to British prestige, and the calmness of his gaze expressed a fortitude which had a disconcerting effect upon the group.
The British Consul-General stood near by.

David advanced to him, and, as he did so, the few who surrounded the Consul-General fell back.

David held out his hand.