not direct enough for Colonel Trench's comprehension.
He heard the word "feather," but he could not connect it as yet with any
action of his own. He was more curious than ever about that
"afterwards"; he began to have a glimmering of its meaning, and he was
struck with wonderment at the thought of how many men there were going
about the world with a calm and commonplace demeanour beneath which
were hidden quaint fancies and poetic beliefs, never to be so much as
suspected, until illness deprived the brain of its control.

"No, one of the reasons why I never said anything that night to you
about what I intended was, I think, that I did not wish you to wait or
have any suspicion of what I was going to attempt." And then
expostulation ceased, and he began to speak in a tone of interest. "Do
you know, it has only occurred to me since I came to the Soudan, but I
believe that Durrance cared."

The name came with something of a shock upon Trench's ears. This man
knew Durrance! He was not merely a stranger of Trench's blood, but he
knew Durrance even as Trench knew him. There was a link between them,
they had a friend in common. He knew Durrance, had fought in the same
square with him, perhaps, at Tokar, or Tamai, or Tamanieb, just as Trench
had done! And so Trench's curiosity as to the life history in its turn
gave place to a curiosity as to the identity of the man. He tried to
see, knowing that in that black and noisome hovel sight was impossible.
He might hear, though, enough to be assured. For if the stranger knew
Durrance, it might be that he knew Trench as well. Trench listened; the
sound of the voice, high pitched and rambling, told him nothing. He
waited for the words, and the words came.

"Durrance stood at the window, after I had told them about you, Ethne,"
and Trench repeated the name to himself. It was to a woman, then, that
his new-found compatriot, this friend of Durrance, in his delirium
imagined himself to be speaking--a woman named Ethne. Trench could
recall no such name; but the voice in the dark went on.

"All the time when I was proposing to send in my papers, after the
telegram had come, he stood at the window of my rooms with his back to
me, looking out across the park. I fancied he blamed me. But I think now
he was making up his mind to lose you.... I wonder."

Trench uttered so startled an exclamation that Ibrahim turned round.

"Is he dead?"

"No, he lives, he lives."

It was impossible, Trenc