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One of the strangest journeys in the vast unwritten history of commercial advance was that made by the five men from the camp of the main expedition across the lower slopes of a mountain range unmarked on any map, unnamed by any geographer to the mysterious Simiacine Plateau.
It had travelled down from the Simiacine Plateau with others, in a parcel beneath the mattress of Jack Meredith's litter. It was a letter written in good faith by an honest, devoted man to the woman whom he looked upon already as almost his wife a letter which no man need have been ashamed of writing, but which a woman ought not to have read unless she intended to be the writer's wife.
The Simiacine was, in his mind, relegated to a distant place behind weeks of sport and adventure such as his soul loved. He scarcely took Victor Durnovo au pied de la lettre. Perhaps he knew too much about him for that. Certain it is that neither of the two realised at that moment the importance of the step that they were taking.
Joseph's arrival with ten new men seemed to give a fresh zest to the work, and the carefully-packed cases of Simiacine began to fill Oscard's tent to some inconvenience. Thus things went on for two tranquil weeks. "First," Oscard had said, "let us get the crop in and then we can arrange what is to be done about the future."
But Millicent loved him, so it must be all right. He had always cared for Millicent. Everything had been done in order that he might marry her the quarrel with his father, the finding of the Simiacine, the determination to get well which had saved his life all this so that he might marry Millicent. And now he was going to marry her, and it must be all right.
Victor Durnovo stooped over one of these. He buried his face among the leaves of it, and suddenly he toppled over. "Yes," he cried as he fell, "it's Simiacine!" And he turned over with a groan of satisfaction, and lay like a dead man. Since all that I can ever do for thee Is to do nothing, may'st thou never see, Never divine, the all that nothing costeth me.
The natives find the leaf in the forests by the aid of trained monkeys, and only in very small quantities. Do you follow me?" "Yes, I follow you." Victor Durnovo leant forward until his face was within three inches of Meredith, and the dark wild eyes flashed and glared into the Englishman's steady glance. "What," he hissed, "what if I know where Simiacine grows like a weed?
"What risks?" asked Millicent, quite forgetting to modulate her voice. "Well, of course, the Ogowe river is most horribly unhealthy, and there are other risks. The natives in the plains surrounding the Simiacine Plateau are antagonistic. Indeed, the Plateau was surrounded and quite besieged when we left Africa."
"Ah, yes," said Millicent unblushingly that was her strong point, blushing in the right place, but not in the wrong "Mr. Oscard is associated with Mr. Meredith, is he not, in this hare-brained scheme?" "I believe they are together in it the Simiacine, you mean?" said Jocelyn. "What else could she mean?" reflected the looker-on. "Yes the Simiacine. Such a singular name, is it not?
"The only pity is," he said judicially, "that you ever undertook to look for the Simiacine if you were going to funk it when the first difficulty arose." Without further comment he walked away, and entered into conversation with the captain of the steamer. "All right," muttered Durnovo between his teeth "all right, my sarcastic grand gentleman. I'll be even with you yet."
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