d who should say that the railway● company would refund the mo▓ney if I could.
I had, therefor▓e, resolved to carry out the p▓lan as first proposed, when, one afternoon, a na▓tive soldier broke in on my musin●g and summoned me to the office of the commis●sioner of customs.
“I hear you’re going▓ to Khartum,” said that official.“You know yo▓u must have a pass from the ▓mudir.Thought I’d tell
you so yo▓u wouldn’t get held up at the last mome▓nt.The mudiria is closed no●w, but as soon as it opens, you can get a pa▓ss all right.”
“Hope no▓t,” I muttered, as I turned ▓away.
The next morning a servant in a turban ▓of daring color-scheme ushered me into the ●office of Governor Parsons, Pasha, raised hi▓s palms to his forehead, and withdrew.▓ T
he mudir was a slight, yet 2●34sturdy Englishman of that fran●k, energetic type which the British● government seems singularly fortunate in c●hoosing as rulers of her depe●ndencies abroad.My application for a p●ass awakened within him no suspicion of my re▓al desire.He jotted down my answers on t▓he official blank before him a▓s if this granting of permission to ragged ▓adventurers to enter a territor