"Not you, George," said I, "I know you well enough."
"I wonder what became of Mersina," said Edwards.
"As I told you," said I, "Daud fancied that he had cleared off with his ill-gotten gains, to start afresh in Syria or Egypt. I am rather glad, though, that he let in that scoundrel of an astrologer. He is a bad lot, I am sure. He gave away poor old Raspul, and he tried to give away Mersina to the Turks. But it was a case of the biter bitten that time."
"That is all fair enough in this part of the world," said Edwards. "The Turks themselves would give away the astrologer, or anyone else, without a blush, if they thought it to their own advantage to do so. But, as a rule, they find it more profitable to let the various badmashes cut each others' throats."
It was a great disappointment to me to find, when I was well enough to think of such things, that all my letters from home, of which I was told there had been a number, had been packed up, with my other belongings, and sent home to my people, directly after I had disappeared from the steamer. I had written very fully to my uncle as soon as Edwards and I had returned from our wanderings, and I had hoped that I should now find answers to my letters; but the only home news that I received was in a note which my mother had written to Edwards. There was nothing much in it, except thanks for the care which he had bestowed on me when we were together in the desert, and a request that he would take the greatest care of my health, and not allow me to run any further risks. Still, even that short letter was something; it was in my mother's handwriting, and it brought me nearer home. Since she had written it, however, she had heard of my death, and all my papers and clothes had probably reached her. But there was just a chance that the telegram announcing my safety might have arrived before my boxes, and I hoped that it had been so. My one thought now was to get home as quickly as possible, but my gaoler damped all my ardour by telling me that he certainly would not let me think of the journey for another month or six weeks.
Among my earliest visitors was the captain of the river steamer, who had quite forgiven me for all the trouble that I had been to him, though he warned me that if I ever took passage with him again, he would have me chained to my berth. As I had surmised, my absence from the steamer was not discovered until some hours after I had gone. The steward had brought a cup of tea to my cabin, and finding it empty, and that the bed had not been slept in, went and reported matters to the captain. Then the steamer was searched from stem to stern, and a whole day wasted in sending boats up the river to look for me. At last the search was abandoned, the captain coming to the conclusion that I must have walked overboard in my sleep. He laughed heartily over his story, and though, of course, I apologised most humbly for having deceived him, I inwardly enjoyed the description of his discomfiture.
I promised him that I would never willingly jump overboard again, and we remained the best of friends.
So the time dragged on, and I began to have a craving to see the Golden Girdle which the Consul-General guarded so jealously. I noticed that none of my visitors ever referred to it, and if I happened to mention it, they promptly changed the subject. I grew suspicious, and one day I suddenly tackled Edwards.
"Why is it," I asked, "that you will never speak about my Girdle?"
"I am always talking about it," said he.