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Updated: May 29, 2025
The lost soldier that was in him was all astir in his veins as he reviewed his command in the cool air of early morning. The journey from Msala to the Plateau had occupied a busy two months. Oscard expected to reach Msala with his men in forty days.
He had left it a grim legacy to his torturers, and before he reached the river all was still on the Simiacine Plateau. And so we leave Victor Durnovo. His sins are buried with him, and beneath the giant palms at Msala lies Maurice Gordon's secret. And so we leave Msala, the accursed camp.
"What news have you?" he asked, without pausing to explain. He was one of those men who are silenced by an unlimited capacity for prompt action. "That," she replied, handing him the note written by Jack Meredith to Marie at Msala. Guy Oscard read it carefully. "Dated seven weeks last Monday nearly two months ago," he muttered, half to himself. He raised his head and looked out of the window.
Moreover, he allowed Victor Durnovo to further inculpate himself. He led him on to discuss the position of affairs, and the half-breed displayed an intimate knowledge of the enemy's doings. There was only one inference to be drawn, namely, that Victor Durnovo had abandoned his people at Msala with the same deliberation which had characterised his cowardly faithlessness to Jack Meredith.
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.
She could only draw one conclusion. "No," he continued; "to tell you the truth, I think his nerve gave way a little. His health is undermined by this climate. He has been too long in Africa. We have had a bad time at Msala. We have had small-pox in the camp. Oscard and I have been doing doughty deeds.
He vaguely felt that this woman was not accustomed to menial service, but he knew that any suggestion of sympathy was more than he could compass. So he merely spoke to her more gently than to the men, and perhaps she understood, despite her chocolate-coloured skin. They had inaugurated a strange, unequal friendship during the three days that Oscard had been left alone at Msala.
It was not long before the sound of the paddles was quite distinct, and then probably on turning a corner of the river and coming in sight of the lights of Msala Jack Meredith's cheery shout came floating through the night. Oscard took his pipe from his lips and sent back an answer that echoed against the trees across the river.
Durnovo never left them alone together that night. He watched their faces with keen, suspicious eyes. Behind the moustache his lips were pursed up in restless anxiety. But he saw nothing learnt nothing. These two men were inscrutable. At eleven o'clock the next morning the Simiacine seekers left their first unhappy camp at Msala.
Neither Joseph nor his master called her by the name she had offered for their use. Joseph compromised by the universal and elastic "Missis"; his master simply avoided all names. Ambiguity is one of those intangible nothings that get into the atmosphere and have a trick of remaining there. Marie seemed in some subtle way to pervade the atmosphere of Msala.
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