With Edged Tools Part 19

"No, but I do."

It was obvious that he wanted to accept the invitation, although the objection he raised was probably honest. For that taint in the blood that cometh from the subtle tar-brush brings with it a vanity that has its equal in no white man's heart.

"Well, I'll lend you a black coat! Seven o'clock sharp!"

Durnovo hurried away with a gleam of excitement in his dark eyes.

Maurice Gordon did not resume his work at once. He sat for some time idly drumming with his fingers on the desk.

"If I can only get her to be civil to him," he reflected aloud, "I'll get into this business yet."

At seven o'clock Durnovo appeared at the Gordons' house. He had managed to borrow a dress-suit, and wore an orchid in his b.u.t.tonhole. It was probably the first time that Jocelyn had seen him in this garb of civilisation, which is at the same time the most becoming and the most trying variety of costume left to sensible men in these days. A dress-suit finds a man out sooner than anything except speech.

Jocelyn was civil in her reception--more so, indeed, than Maurice Gordon had hoped for. She seemed almost glad to see Durnovo, and evinced quite a kindly interest in his movements. Durnovo attributed this to the dress-suit, while Maurice concluded that his obvious hints, thrown out before dinner, had fallen on fruitful ground.

At dinner Victor Durnovo was quite charmed with the interest that Jocelyn took in the expedition, of which, he gave it to be understood, he was the chief. So also was Maurice, because Durnovo's evident admiration of Jocelyn somewhat overcame his natural secrecy of character.

"You'll hear of me, Miss Gordon, never fear, before three months are past," said Durnovo, in reply to a vague suggestion that his absence might extend to several months. "I am not the sort of man to come to grief by a foolish mistake or any unnecessary risk."

To which sentiment two men at Msala bore generous testimony later on.

The simple dinner was almost at an end, and it was at this time that Jocelyn Gordon began once more to dislike Durnovo. At first she had felt drawn towards him. Although he wore the dress-clothes rather awkwardly, there was something in his manner which reminded her vaguely of a gentleman. It was not that he was exactly gentlemanly, but there was the reflection of good breeding in his bearing. Dark-skinned people, be it noted, have usually the imitative faculty. As the dinner and the wine warmed his heart, so by degrees he drew on his old self like a glove. He grew bolder and less guarded. His opinion of himself rose momentarily, and with it a certain gleam in his eyes increased as they rested on Jocelyn.

It was not long before she noted this, and quite suddenly her ancient dislike of the man was up in arms with a new intensity gathered she knew not whence.

"And," said Maurice, when Jocelyn had left them, "I suppose you'll be a millionaire in about six months?"

He gently pushed the wine towards him at the same time. Durnovo had not slept for forty hours. The excitement of his escape from the plague-ridden camp had scarcely subsided. The glitter of the silver on the table, the shaded candles, the subtle sensuality of refinement and daintiness appealed to his hot-blooded nature. He was a little off his feet perhaps. He took the decanter and put it to the worst use he could have selected.

"Not so soon as that," he said; "but in time--in time."

"Lucky beggar!" muttered Maurice Gordon, with a little sigh.

"I don't mind telling you," said Durnovo, with a sudden confidence begotten of Madeira, "that it's Simiacine--that's what it is. I can't tell you more."

"Simiacine," repeated Gordon, fingering the stem of his wine-gla.s.s and looking at him keenly between the candle-shades. "Yes. You've always been on its track, haven't you?"

"In six months your go-downs will be full of it--my Simiacine, my Simiacine."

"By G.o.d, I wish I had a hand in it."

Maurice Gordon pushed the decanter again--gently, almost surrept.i.tiously.

"And so you may, some day. You help me and I'll help you--that is my ticket. Reciprocity--reciprocity, my dear Maurice."

"Yes, but how?"

"Can't tell you now, but I will in good time--in my own time. Come, let's join the ladies--eh? haha!"

But at this moment the servant brought in coffee, saying in his master's ear that Miss Jocelyn had gone to bed with a slight headache.

CHAPTER XV. A CONFIDENCE

The spirits Of coming things stride on before their issues.

There is nothing that brings men so close to each other as a common grievance or a common danger. Men who find pleasure in the same game or the same pursuit are drawn together by a common taste; but in the indulgence of it there is sure to arise, sooner or later, a spirit of compet.i.tion. 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 circ.u.mstance. Smallpox rages in Africa as it rages nowhere else in these days. The natives fight it or bow before it as before an ancient and deeply dreaded foe. It was nothing new to them, and it would have been easy enough for Jack and Oscard to prove to their own satisfaction that the presence of three white men at Msala was a danger to themselves and no advantage to the natives. It would have been very simple to abandon the river station, leaving there such men as were stricken down to care for each other. But such a thought never seemed to suggest itself.

The camp was moved across the river, where all who seemed strong and healthy were placed under canvas, awaiting further developments.

The infected were carried to a special camp set apart and guarded, and this work was executed almost entirely by the three Englishmen, aided by a few natives who had had the disease.

For three days these men went about with their lives literally in their hands, tending the sick, cheering the despondent, frightening the cowards into some semblance of self-respect and dignity. And during these three days, wherein they never took an organised meal or three consecutive hours of rest, Joseph, Meredith, and Oscard rose together to that height of manhood where master and servant, educated man and common soldier, stand equal before their Maker.

Owing to the promptness with which measures had been taken for isolating the affected, the terrible sickness did not spread. In all eleven men were stricken, and of these ten died within three days. The eleventh recovered, but eventually remained at Msala.

It was only on the evening of the third day that Jack and Guy found time to talk of the future. They had never left Durnovo's house, and on this third day they found time to dine together.

"Do you think," Oscard asked bluntly, when they were left alone to smoke, "that Durnovo knew what was the matter?"

"I am afraid that I have not the slightest doubt of it," replied Jack lightly.

"And bolted?" suggested Oscard.

"And bolted."

Guy Oscard gave a contemptuous little laugh, which had a deeper insult in it than he could have put into words.

"And what is to be done?" he inquired.

"Nothing. People in books would mount on a very high pinnacle of virtue and cast off Mr. Durnovo and all his works; but it is much more practical to make what use we can of him. That is a worldly-wise, nineteenth-century way of looking at it; we cannot do without him."

The contemplativeness of nicotine was upon Guy Oscard.

"Umph!" he grunted. "It is rather disgusting," he said, after a pause; "I hate dealing with cowards."

"And I with fools. For everyday use, give me a coward by preference."

"Yes, there is something in that. Still, I'd throw up the whole thing if--"

"So would I," said Jack, turning sharply in his chair, "if--"

Oscard laughed curtly and waited.