CHAPTER V
THE FATHER OF TERROR
When that amiable amateur coachman, Count R., who drives the four-horse drag daily from Cairo to the Pyramids for sheer love of the art, assures the passengers who mount beside and behind him in a blazing sun, that they will need no umbrella or parasol, inasmuch as "the road is shaded all the way," they are apt on the first impulse to suspect that the statement is one of those expressions of affectionate partiality which require a strong dash of seasoning from the salt-cellar of scepticism. To drive for ten or a dozen miles along a public highway, and to be protected from the rays of the sun throughout the whole route is a blessing not often vouchsafed to travellers in a dry and thirsty land.
