"Four days," repeated the Secretary, as he came to an end.
At that moment a tall man in the costume of a Bedouin walked slowly up the platform. His head and most of his face were closely covered by the loose woollen shawl which the sons of the desert wear, leaving only his eyes, his nose, and part of his mouth visible. As he passed the Sirdar, he looked sharply at him; then, pushing forward with long strides until he came to the third-class compartments, he stepped into the first of them, which was full of coloured people, strident with high-pitched voices and pungent with Eastern odours.
"Who was that?" asked the Sirdar.
"I don't know, sir," replied the Secretary. "I thought at first it was their Bedouin Sheikh, but I see I was mistaken."
Then came the whistle of the locomotive, and its slow, rhythmic, volcanic throb. The guard saluted, and the Sirdar got into his carriage.
"Well, good-bye, Graham! Don't forget the telegram."
"I'll send it at once.... In cypher, sir?"
"In cypher certainly."
At the next moment the Sirdar and Gordon Lord, travelling in the same train, were on their way to Cairo.
END OF THIRD BOOK