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Updated: May 29, 2025
She went to a drawer in her writing-table and took from it an almanac. "The letter you have in your hand," she said, "was handed to Mr. Durnovo exactly a month ago by the woman at Msala. From that time to this he has done nothing. He has simply abandoned Mr. Meredith." "He is in Loango?" inquired Oscard, with a premonitory sense of enjoyment in his voice. "Yes."
Meredith had no reason to suppose that his appeal for help had reached Msala, infested as the intervening forests were by cannibal tribes. Provisions were at a low ebb. There seemed to be no hope of outside aid, and disaffection was rife in his small force. Jack Meredith, who was no soldier, found himself called upon to defend a weak position, with unreliable men, for an indefinite period.
All went well with the retreating column until they were almost in sight of Msala, when the flotilla was attacked by no less than three hippopotamuses. One canoe was sunk, and four others were so badly damaged that they could not be kept afloat with their proper complement of men.
It would seem that Guy Oscard, in his thick-headed way, was conscious of this mystery in the air; for he had not been two hours in Msala before he asked "Who is that woman?" and received the reply which has been recorded. After dinner they passed out on to the little terrace overlooking the river, and it was here that the great Simiacine scheme was pieced together.
At this moment the kettle boiled over, and Marie had to turn away to attend to her duties. When she came back Oscard was looking, not at Nestorius, but at her. "We spent four days at Msala," he said, in a tone that meant that he had more to tell her. "Yes?" "The place is in ruins, as you know." She nodded with a peculiar little twist of the lips as if he were hurting her.
"Of course they expect it," shouted Joseph in his face; "of course they expect it, Mr. Durnovo." "Why?" "Because they're SLAVES. Think I don't know that?" He turned to Oscard. "This man, Mr. Oscard," he said, "is a slave-owner. Them forty that joined at Msala was slaves. He's shot two of 'em now; this is his second. And what does he care? they're his slaves.
He was evidently very much pleased with himself held himself erect, and squinted more violently than usual. "I have been to Msala," he said, with considerable dignity of manner. "Yes, and what news have you?" Nala squatted down on the chunam floor, and proceeded to unfold a leaf. The operation took some time.
"I have no doubt," said Oscard to Marie, "that he would have sent some message to you had he been able; but he was very ill he was dying when he reached Msala. It was wonderful that he got there at all. We did what we could for him, but it was hopeless." Marie raised her shoulders with her pathetic gesture of resignation. "The sleeping sickness," she said, "what will you? There is no remedy.
There was a twinkle in Jack Meredith's eyes, but Oscard was quite grave. His sense of humour was not very keen, and he was before all things a sportsman. "I left the canoes a mile below Msala, and landed to shoot a deer we saw drinking, but I never saw him. Then I heard you, and I have been stalking you ever since." "But I never expected you so soon; you were not due till look!"
"Ah!" she exclaimed, and her voice thrilled with some emotion which he did not understand. "Ah, it is you!" "Yes," he said, holding her hand a little longer than was necessary. "It is I." His journey from Msala through the more civilised reaches of the lower river, his voyage in the coasting boat, and his arrival at Loango, had partaken of the nature of a triumphal progress.
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