The gaolers were within view, but not within ear-shot.
"Yes, we can talk here. Why have you come?"
"I was captured in the desert, on the Arbain road," said Feversham,
slowly.
"Yes, masquerading as a lunatic musician who had wandered out of Wadi
Halfa with a zither. I know. But you were captured by your own
deliberate wish. You came to join me in Omdurman. I know."
"How do you know?"
"You told me. During the last three days you have told me much," and
Feversham looked about him suddenly in alarm, "Very much," continued
Trench. "You came to join me because five years ago I sent you a white
feather."
"And was that all I told you?" asked Feversham, anxiously.
"No," Trench replied, and he dragged out the word. He sat up while
Feversham lay on his side, and he looked towards the Nile in front of
him, holding his head between his hands, so that he could not see or be
seen by Feversham. "No, that was not all--you spoke of a girl, the same
girl of whom you spoke when Willoughby and Durrance and I dined with you
in London a long while ago. I know her name now--her Christian name. She
was with you when the feathers came. I had not thought of that
possibility.
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