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 ransacked, and the contents thrown into one of the camel-food bags, the neck of which was tied up by Ali Wad Ibrahim’s own hands.

“I say, Cochrane,” whispered Belmont, looking with smouldering eyes at the wretched Mansoor, “I’ve got a little hip revolver which they have not discovered. Shall I shoot that cursed dragoman for giving away the women?”

The Colonel shook his head.

“You had better keep it,” said he, with a sombre face. “The women may find some other use for it before all is over.”