They
poured water upon the palm-rope which bound his wrists, so that the
thongs swelled and bit into his flesh.
"Speak, Kaffir. You carry promises to Kordofan."
Feversham was silent. He clung doggedly to the plan over which he had
so long and so carefully pondered. He could not improve upon it, he was
sure, by any alteration suggested by fear, at a moment when he could not
think clearly. A rope was flung about his neck, and he was pushed and
driven beneath the gallows.
"Speak, Kaffir," said Nejoumi; "so shall you escape death."
Feversham smiled and grimaced, and shook his head loosely from side to
side. It was astonishing to him that he could do it, that he did not
fall down upon his knees and beg for mercy. It was still more
astonishing to him that he felt no temptation so to demean himself. He
wondered whether the oft repeated story was true, that criminals in
English prisons went quietly and with dignity to the scaffold, because
they had been drugged. For without drugs he seemed to be behaving with
no less dignity himself. His heart was beating very fast, but it was
with a sort of excitement. He did not even think of Ethne at that
moment; and certainly the great dread that his strong hope would never
be fulfilled did not trouble him at all.
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