Rumours of all kinds were afloat about him, ludicrous tales which portrayed him as a Frenchman or a Spaniard in Egyptian guise, as the paid agent, in turn of the ex-Khedive Ismaïl, of the pretender Halim, and of the Sultan—as everything in fact but what he really was. I, who had seen him, could explain. It was a matter not of serious interest with anybody, but, as I have said, of considerable curiosity. And so I was listened to.
My first visit on arrival was to 10, Downing Street. Here, though I did not see Mr. Gladstone himself, I found my friend Hamilton, his private secretary, and had with him an altogether satisfactory talk.
I was a little doubtful, seeing that I had quarrelled with Malet, how I might be received. But he hastened to assure me that my "interference" with Malet's diplomacy was in no way resented by his chief. On the contrary, Mr. Gladstone was very much obliged to me for my letters, and for the line I had taken in Egypt.
It was a busy time for him, however, just then, the busiest of the official year, the weeks before Easter, and the thoughts of ministers were elsewhere than in Egypt. The Irish question was priming everything in Mr. Gladstone's mind.
I might, however, make my own mind comfortable about the dangers which seemed to threaten at Cairo. They could not lead to serious trouble. Whatever might be the ideas "over the way" (meaning the Foreign Office), Mr. Gladstone would see that they were not put in practice. Armed intervention with Mr. Gladstone in power was an "impossibility." The mere thought of it was ridiculous.
We would talk of it again and I should see Mr. Gladstone later. In the meanwhile Hamilton would let Lord Granville know that I was come. I left him entirely reassured.