at the Italian and shivered. But to those who had served long in the Sudan, uncompromising necessities had blunted the edge of their imaginations. So General Durham pursued his practical idea, and inquired, "Favara, do you know what became of the Tangle?"
For answer Favara spread his palms with an almost imperceptible gesture of ignorance. "No, nor what became of anything." Then Favara nodded to the Nubian waiter, who refilled his brandy glass.
Durham persisted. "I have a reason. This necklace has lately been heard of in Omdurman; a crippled beggar is said to have it, a holy man called El Hadj Nejuma."
To which Lyttleton added quickly: "That's the beggar whose hands and feet were cut off by the Khalifah? I've seen him."
"He should be easy to find," Colonel Spottiswoode suggested. "Couldn't you send over and get it? Just across the river."
"My dear Colonel Spottiswoode," Durham smiled, "we might as well send across the Milky Way. No Mahometan would tell us of it. There's no human way to locate that necklace."
"Perhaps it may turn up," the Colonel said. "I should like to hear more about it."
"Turn up? Oh, yes, it may turn up—around the neck of a Mahdi, with ten thousand Dervishes
