Gregory had little sleep that night.

It was clear to him that there was absolutely no chance of making his escape.

Even were his two guards withdrawn, it would not improve his position.

He had no means of disguise, and even if he had an Arab dress and could stain his face, he could not hope to make his way through the crowds of sleeping men, the pitfalls and trenches, and pass out through the jealously guarded zareba.

There was nothing, for him, but to wait till the end.
He could not blame Mahmud.