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It was Africa that had done this, and he was conscious of it. He remembered Victor Durnovo's strange outburst on their first meeting a few miles below Msala on the Ogowe river, and the remembrance only made him the more anxious that Jocelyn and he should turn their backs upon the accursed West Coast for ever. Before they went to bed that night it was all arranged.
Even in the short time that Maurice and I have been here we have learnt to treat the climate of Western Africa with a proper respect. We have known so many people who have succumbed." "Yes, but I do not mean to do that. In a way, Durnovo's what shall we call it? lack of nerve is a great safeguard. He will not run into any danger." "No, but he might run you into it."
Now, this spirit, which is in most human affairs, is a new bond of union when men are fighting side by side against a common foe. During the three days that followed Durnovo's departure from Msala, Jack Meredith and Oscard learnt to know each other. These three days were as severe a test as could well be found; for courage, humanity, tenderness, loyalty, were by turns called forth by circumstance.
"Not a second time, Miss Gordon. Not if we know it. Oscard mentioned a desire to wring Durnovo's neck. I am afraid he will do it one of these days." "The mistake that most people make," the girl went on more lightly, "is a want of care. You cannot be too careful, you know, in Africa." "I am careful; I have reason to be." She was looking at him steadily, her blue eyes searching his.
The pleasant, half-cynical glance wandered from Durnovo's dark face very deliberately down to his jacket pocket, where the stock of a revolver was imperfectly concealed. "We were getting anxious about you," he explained, "seeing that you did not come back. Of course, we knew that you were capable of taking care of yourself."
The awe inspired by Victor Durnovo's name went before the little caravan like a moral convoy and cleared their path. Thus guarded by the name of a man whom he hated, Jack Meredith was enabled to pass through a savage country literally cast upon a bed of sickness. In due course the river was reached, and the gentle swing of the litter was changed for the smoother motion of the canoe.
He had stood on the verge of many crimes, and had been forcibly dragged back therefrom by the strong arm of Guy Oscard. It had been Victor Durnovo's intention not only to abandon Jack Meredith to his certain fate, but to appropriate to his own use the consignment of Simiacine, valued at sixty thousand pounds, which he had brought down to the coast.
Oscard took him by the arms, and held him in a sitting position. Durnovo's fingers were clutching at his sleeve. "Shake me! God! shake me!" Then Oscard took him in his strong arms, and set him on his feet. He shook him gently at first, but as the dread somnolence crept on he shook harder, until the mutilated inhuman head rolled upon the shoulders.
"Somethin'," he reflected, "that'll just curl his back hair for 'im; that's what I'll write 'im." Msala had been devastated, and it was within the roofless walls of Durnovo's house that Joseph finally wrote out laboriously the projected capillary invigorator.
"And Durnovo is the man I want," weighing on each word. Durnovo's right hand was in his jacket pocket. Seeing Meredith's proffered salutation, he slowly withdrew it and shook hands. The flash of hatred was still in his eyes when Jack Meredith turned upon him with aggravating courtesy.
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