'There is the letter,' he said, and he handed it to Abdul, and, taking Trench by the arm, walked without another word away.
They passed out of the alley and came again to the great mud wall. It was sunset. To their left the river gleamed with changing lights-here it ran the colour of an olive, there rose pink, and here again a brilliant green; above their heads the stars were coming out, in the east it was already dusk; and behind them in the town, drums were beginning to beat with their barbaric monotone. Both men walked with their chins sunk upon their breasts, their eyes upon the ground. They had come to the end of hope, they were possessed with a lethargy of despair. Feversham thought not at all of the pine trees on the Surrey hills, nor did Trench have any dread that something in his head would snap and that which made him man be reft from him. They walked slowly, as though their fetters had grown ten times their weight, and without a word. So stricken, indeed, were they that an Arab turned and kept pace beside them, and neither noticed his presence. In a few moments the Arab spoke: 'The camels are ready in the desert, ten miles to the west.'
But he spoke in so low a voice, and those to whom he spoke were so absorbed in misery, that the words passed unheard. He repeated them, and Feversham looked up. Quite slowly their meaning broke in on Feversham's mind; quite slowly he recognised the man who uttered them.
'Abou Fatma!' he said.
'Hoosh!' returned Abou Fatma, 'the camels are ready.'
'Now?'
'Now.'
Trench leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, and the face of a sick man. It seemed that he would swoon, and Feversham took him by the arm.
'Is it true?' Trench asked faintly; and before Feversham could answer Abou Fatma went on: 'Walk forwards very slowly. Before you reach the end of the wall it will be dusk. Draw your cloaks over your heads, wrap these rags about your chains, so that they do not rattle. Then turn and come back, go close to the water beyond the storehouses. I will be there with a man to remove your chains. But keep your faces well covered and do not stop. He will think you slaves.'
With that he passed some rags to them, holding his hands behind his back, while they stood close to him. Then he turned and hurried back. Very slowly Feversham and Trench walked forwards in the direction of the prison; the dusk crept across the river, mounted the long slope of sand, enveloped them. They sat down and quickly wrapped the rags about their chains and secured them there. From the west the colours of the sunset had altogether faded, the darkness gathered quickly about them. They turned and walked back along the road they had come. The drums were more numerous now, and above the wall there rose a glare of light. By the time they had reached the water's edge opposite the storehouses it was dark. Abou Fatma was already waiting with his blacksmith. The chains were knocked off without a word spoken.
'Come,' said Abou. 'There will be no moon to-night. How long before they discover you are gone?'
'Who knows? Perhaps already Idris has missed us. Perhaps he will not till morning. There are many prisoners.'
They ran up the slope of sand, between the quarters of the tribes, across the narrow width of the city, through the cemetery. On the far side of the cemetery stood a disused house; a man rose up in the doorway as they approached, and went in.
'Wait here,' said Abou Fatma, and he too went into the house. In a moment both men came back, and each one led a camel and made it kneel.
'Mount,' said Abou Fatma. 'Bring its head round and hold it as you mount.'
'I know the trick,' said Trench.
Feversham climbed up behind him, the two Arabs mounted the second camel.
'Ten miles to the west,' said Abou Fatma, and he struck the camel on the flanks.
Behind them the glare of the lights dwindled, the tapping of the drums diminished.
Chapter XXX — The Last of the Southern Cross
The wind blew keen and cold from the north. The camels, freshened by it, trotted out at their fastest pace.
'Quicker,' said Trench, between his teeth. 'Already Idris may have missed us.'
'Even if he has,' replied Feversham, 'it will take time to get men together for a pursuit, and those men must fetch their camels, and already it is dark.'
But although he spoke hopefully, he turned his head again and again towards the glare of light above Omdurman. He could no longer hear the tapping of the drums, that was some consolation. But he was in a country of silence, where men could journey swiftly and yet make no noise. There would be no sound of galloping horses to warn him that pursuit was at his heels. Even at that moment the Ansar soldiers might be riding within thirty paces of them, and Feversham strained his eyes backwards into the darkness and expected the glimmer of a white turban. Trench, however, never turned his head. He rode with his teeth set, looking forwards. Yet fear was no less strong in him than in Feversham. Indeed, it was stronger, for he did not look back towards Omdurman because he did not dare; and though his eyes were fixed directly in front of him, the things which he really saw were the long narrow streets of the town behind him, the dotted fires at the corners of the streets, and men running hither and thither among the houses, making their quick search for the two prisoners escaped from the House of Stone.
Once his attention was diverted by a word from Feversham, and he answered without turning his head: 'What is it?'
'I no longer see the fires of Omdurman.'
'The golden blot, eh, very low down?' Trench answered in an abstracted voice. Feversham did not ask him to explain what his allusion meant, nor could Trench have disclosed why he had spoken it; the words had come back to him suddenly with a feeling that it was somehow appropriate that the vision which was the last thing to meet Feversham's eyes as he set out upon his mission he should see again now that that mission was accomplished. They spoke no more until two figures rose out of the darkness in front of them, at the very feet of their camels, and Abou Fatma cried in a low voice: 'Instanna!'
They halted their camels and made them kneel.
'The new camels are here?' asked Abou Fatma, and two of the men disappeared for a few minutes and brought four camels up. Meanwhile the saddles were unfastened and removed from the camels Trench and his companion had ridden out of Omdurman.
'They are good camels?' asked Feversham, as he helped to fix the saddles upon the fresh ones.
'Of the Anafi breed,' answered Abou Fatma. 'Quick! Quick!' and he looked anxiously to the east and listened.
'The arms?' said Trench. 'You have them? Where are they?' and he bent his body and searched the ground for them.
'In a moment,' said Abou Fatma, but it seemed that Trench could hardly wait for that moment to arrive. He showed even more anxiety to handle the weapons than he had shown fear that he would be overtaken.
'There is ammunition?' he asked feverishly.
'Yes, yes,' replied Abou Fatma, 'ammunition and rifles and revolvers.' He led the way to a spot about twenty yards from the camels, where some long desert grass rustled about their legs. He stooped and dug into the soft sand with his hands.
'Here,' he said.
Trench flung himself upon the ground beside him and scooped with both hands, making all the while an inhuman whimpering sound with his mouth, like the noise a foxhound makes at a cover. There was something rather horrible to Feversham in his attitude as he scraped at the ground on his knees, at the action of his hands, quick like the movements of a dog's paws, and in the whine of his voice. He was sunk for the time into an animal. In a moment or two Trench's fingers touched the lock and trigger of a rifle, and he became man again. He stood up quietly with the rifle in his hands. The other arms were unearthed, the ammunition shared.
'Now,' said Trench, and he laughed with a great thrill of joy in the laugh. 'Now I don't mind. Let them follow
