y. He
was more than willing to talk about Mather; he had a hope that in
talking about Mather, Durrance might forget that other matter which
caused him anxiety.

"We are both of us curious," Durrance continued, "and you can clear up
the point we are curious about. Did you ever come across an Arab called
Abou Fatma?"

"Abou Fatma," said Willoughby, slowly, "one of the Hadendoas?"

"No, a man of the Kabbabish tribe."

"Abou Fatma?" Willoughby repeated, as though for the first time he had
heard the name. "No, I never came across him;" and then he stopped. It
occurred to Durrance that it was not a natural place at which to stop;
Willoughby might have been expected to add, "Why do you ask me?" or some
question of the kind. But he kept silent. As a matter of fact, he was
wondering how in the world Durrance had ever come to hear of Abou Fatma,
whose name he himself had heard for the first and last time a year ago
upon the verandah of the Palace at Suakin. For he had spoken the truth.
He never had come across Abou Fatma, although Feversham had spoken of
him.

"That makes me still more curious," Durrance continued. "Mather and I
were together on the last reconnaissance in '84, and we found Abou Fatma
hiding in the bushes by the Sinkat fort. He told us about the Gordon
letters which he had hidden in Berber. Ah! you remember his name now."

"I was merely getting my pipe out of my pocket," said Willoughby. "But I
do remember the name now that you mention the letters."

"They were brought to you in Suakin fifteen months or so back. Mather
showed me the paragraph in the _Evening Standard_. And I am curious as
to whether Abou Fatma returned to Berber and recovered them. But since
you have never come across him, it follows that he was not the man."

Captain Willoughby began to feel sorry that he had been in such haste to
deny all acquaintance with Abou Fatma of the Kabbabish tribe.

"No; it was not Abou Fatma," he said, with an awkward sort of
hesitation. He dreaded the next question which Durrance would put to
him. He filled his pipe, pondering what answer he should make to it. But
Durrance put no question at all for the moment.

"I wondered," he said slowly. "I thought that Abou Fatma would hardly
return to Berber. For, indeed, whoever undertook the job undertook it at
the risk of his life, and, since Gordon was dead, for no very obvious
reason."

"Quite so," said Willoughby, in a voice of relief. It seemed that
Durrance