"What am I to do?" he said at length.

"I have thought it out," returned Durrance. "You must go to Suakin. I
will give you a letter to Willoughby, who is Deputy-Governor, and
another to a Greek merchant there whom I know, and on whom you can draw
for as much money as you require."

"That's good of you, Durrance, upon my word," Sutch interrupted; and
forgetting that he was talking to a blind man he held out his hand
across the table. "I would not take a penny if I could help it; but I am
a poor man. Upon my soul it's good of you."

"Just listen to me, please," said Durrance. He could not see the
outstretched hand, but his voice showed that he would hardly have taken
it if he had. He was striking the final blow at his chance of happiness.
But he did not wish to be thanked for it. "At Suakin you must take the
Greek merchant's advice and organise a rescue as best you can. It will
be a long business, and you will have many disappointments before you
succeed. But you must stick to it until you do."

Upon that the two men fell to a discussion of the details of the length
of time which it would take for a message from Suakin to be carried
into Omdurman, of the untrustworthiness of some Arab spies, and of the
risks which the trustworthy ran. Sutch's house was searched for maps,
the various routes by which the prisoners might escape were described by
Durrance--the great forty days' road from Kordofan on the west, the
straight track from Omdurman to Berber and from Berber to Suakin, and
the desert journey across the Belly of Stones by the wells of Murat to
Korosko. It was late before Durrance had told all that he thought
necessary and Sutch had exhausted his questions.

"You will stay at Suakin as your base of operations," said Durrance, as
he closed up the maps.

"Yes," answered Sutch, and he rose from his chair. "I will start as soon
as you give me the letters."

"I have them already written."

"Then I will start to-morrow. You may be sure I will let both you and
Miss Eustace know how the attempt progresses."

"Let me know," said Durrance, "but not a whisper of it to Ethne. She
knows nothing of my plan, and she must know nothing until Feversham
comes back himself. She has her point of view, as I have mine. Two lives
shall not be spoilt because of her. That's her resolve. She believes
that to some degree she was herself the cause of Harry Feversham's
disgrace--that but for her he would not have resigned his commission