The six months came to an end. The seventh began; a fortnight of it
passed, and the boy who brought Feversham food could never cheer their
hearts with word that Abou Fatma had come back.
"He will never come," said Trench, in despair.
"Surely he will--if he is alive," said Feversham. "But is he alive?"
The seventh month passed, and one morning at the beginning of the eighth
there came two of the Khalifa's bodyguard to the prison, who talked with
Idris. Idris advanced to the two prisoners.
"Verily God is good to you, you men from the bad world," he said. "You
are to look upon the countenance of the Khalifa. How happy you should
be!"
Trench and Feversham rose up from the ground in no very happy frame of
mind. "What does he want with us? Is this the end?" The questions
started up clear in both their minds. They followed the two guards out
through the door and up the street towards the Khalifa's house.
"Does it mean death?" said Feversham.
Trench shrugged his shoulders and laughed sourly. "It is on the cards
that Nebbi Khiddr has suggested something of the kind," he said.
They were led into the great parade-ground before the mosque, and thence
into the Khalifa's house, where another white man sat in attendance upon
the threshold.
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