More than eleven years have gone by, and the scene upon which our curtain rises again is different indeed to that upon which it fell. In place of that little London house where Rupert had lain sick, behold the mouth of a cliff-hewn temple, and on the face of it, cut from the solid rock, four colossal statues of an Egyptian king, nearly seventeen feet high each of them, that gaze for ever across the waters of the Nile and the desert beyond-that unchanging desert whence for three thousand five hundred years, dawn by dawn, they have greeted the newly-risen sun. For this place is the temple of Abu-Simbel below the Second Cataract of the Nile in the Soudan.It is afternoon in the month of September, of the year 1889, and beneath one of the colossi near to the entrance of the temple is seated a British officer in uniform-a big, bearded observer as remarkable for intensity and power. Indeed, in this respect it was not unlike that stamped upon the stone countenances of the mighty statues above him. There was in it something of the same calm, patient strength-something of that air of contemptuous expectancy with which the old Egyptian sculptors had the art of clothing those effigies of their gods and kings.It would have been hard to recognise in this man the lad whom we left recovering from a sore sickness, for some twelve years of work, thought, struggle, and self-control-chisels, all of them, that cut deeply-had made their marks upon him. Yet it was Rupert Ullershaw and no other.The history of that period of his life can be given in few words. He had entered the army and gone to India, and there done very well. Having been fortunate enough to be employed in two of our little frontier wars, attention had been called to his conspicuous professional abilities. As it chanced also he was a studious man, and the fact that he devoted himself but little to amusements-save to big-game shooting when it came in his way-left him plenty of time for study. A chance conversation with a friend who had travelled much in the East, and who pointed out to him how advantageous it might be for his future to have a knowledge of Arabic, with which very few English officers were acquainted at the time, caused him to turn his attention to that language. These labours of his becoming known to those in authority, the Indian Government appointed him upon some sudden need to a semi-diplomatic office on the Persian Gulf. Here he did well, and although he never got the full public credit of it, was fortunate enough to avert a serious trouble that might have grown to large proportions and involved a naval demonstration. In recognition of his services he was advanced in rank and made a C.B. at a very early age, with the result that, had he wished it, he might have entered on a diplomatic career with every hope of distinction.But Rupert was, above all things, a soldier, so turning his back upon these pleasant prospects, he applied to be allowed to serve in Egypt, a request that was readily granted on account of his knowledge of Arabic. Here in one capacity or another he took part in various campaigns, being present at the battles of El-Teb and Tamai, in the latter of which he was wounded. Afterwards he marched with Sir Herbert Stewart from Dongola and fought with him at Abu Klea. Returning to Egypt after the death of Gordon, he was employed as an Intelligence officer at Cairo, and finally made a lieutenant-colonel in the Egyptian army.