to luck for discovering some other excuse for remaining out of the Saier when failure could no longer be concealed, appealed to me, and, in reply to my offer of assistance, a messenger came from the Khaleefa ordering the Saier to hand me over to the director of the Beit-el-Mal. His other instructions were that the bars and heavy chains were to be taken off my feet and legs, and that I was to be secured by a single pair of anklets connected with a light chain. While this change was being made I received the congratulations of the gaolers and prisoners, and (February, 1896) was escorted out of the prison by two guards to enter upon a new industry which had in it as much of the elements of success as would accompany an attempt to squeeze blood out of a cobbler's lap-stone. I had not forgotten Shwybo's fate.
When I reached Khartoum, Awwad-el-Mardi had not yet arrived. It was the month of Ramadan, and as all transactions were in abeyance until after sunset, I was not allowed to land until Awwad arrived to hand me over officially. I was left alone on one of Gordon's old steamers, moored at the spot where Gordon fell, and where the victorious Sirdar and his troops landed to conduct the burial service. During the hours I had to wait gazing at the ruined town and the dismantled palace which saw the martyrdom of as good a man and soldier as ever trod this earth, I ruminated over his blasted hopes and my own. I shall not pretend to call to mind all the thoughts which surged through my brain as I paced alone over the shell-and bullet-splintered deck; but you can imagine what they
