“Twice had every preparation been made. The relays of camels to take the exile across the desert were ready. Nothing remained |294| but for Neufeld to pluck up courage and quit Omdurman. Each time he backed out at the last moment. At length he confessed the truth, namely, that he did not care to come away. He had married a black wife. His friends in Germany were dead or had forgotten him. He would stay where he was.” Is it not possible to find some one to swear that _more_ than two attempts were made during those long twelve years to extricate me? I have in my narrative said all that I know of the visits of any guides to Omdurman. Having been promised the publication of interesting documents concerning me, perhaps the proofs of the above will be forthcoming; let it be proved that on even _one_ occasion relays of camels were posted to effect my escape, and at the same time let it be proved that the guide who posted those relays ever came to me. It is quite possible that there are a sheaf of letters waiting to be published bearing my signature; and maybe when they are, I shall learn their contents for the first time. I had to sign many letters the contents of which I was ignorant of, as is evidenced by the letter to my manager, and the letter to General Stephenson, in reply to the one he entrusted me with when I went on my expedition. This letter was photographed, and a translation is given on p. 338. The reply was dictated by Abdullahi to his secretary, and handed me to sign. Let the note, letter, or report, on which my refusal to escape is founded, be produced, and then see if the date of it does not correspond with the date of the maturing of one of my many plans for escape. But do not press me too closely for my reason |295| for writing or giving such a message. If I gave it I should be committing as great an injustice as did poor Lupton, when sending back part of the monies sent him by his friends at Suakin, who were trying to effect his escape, wrote. . . . Those friends are still living, and as they have not chosen to tell the world what they did for their countrymen, and how it was that their schemes fell through, I may not do so—at least, not yet. If I lied, as I have been told to my face that I did, when I denied some of the charges made against me, why should more credence be given me for sincerity in notes refusing to escape than was given to Slatin’s protestations of loyalty in his letter to the Khaleefa when he escaped? If during my capture and my long captivity my behaviour was unmanly, or such as I, a European, ought to be ashamed of, then let the proofs be at once forthcoming. Do not weary me out and keep the world against me with threats of coming disclosures; moreover, have I not good reason to complain of the communication of everything damaging to me while everything in my favour is suppressed?