Trench interrupted him in a low voice. "I know. You told me things which made me shiver," and he caught hold of Feversham's arm and thrust the loose sleeve back. Feversham's scarred wrists confirmed the tale.
"Well, I felt myself getting light-headed there," he went on. "I made up my mind that of your escape I must let no hint slip. So I tried to think of something else with all my might, when I was going off my head." And he laughed a little to himself.
"That was why you heard me talk of Ethne," he explained.
Trench sat nursing his knees and looking straight in front of him. He had paid no heed to Feversham's last words. He had dared now to give his hopes their way.
"So it's true," he said in a quiet wondering voice. "There will be a morning when we shall not drag ourselves out of the House of Stone. There will be nights when we shall sleep in beds, actually in beds. There will be—" He stopped with a sort of shy air like a man upon the brink of a confession. "There will be—something more," he said lamely, and then he got up on to his feet.
"We have sat here too long. Let us go forward."
They moved a hundred yards nearer to the river and sat down again.
"You have more than a hope. You have a plan of escape?" Trench asked eagerly.
"More than a plan," returned Feversham. "The preparations are made. There are camels waiting in the desert ten miles west of Omdurman."
"Now?" exclaimed Trench. "Now?"