it would have convinced the other, if he had needed
convincing, that this was so.

"That doesn't matter. I do know it. If I did not, you would not have
walked away from Sapazani's place so easily. In fact, you would never
have got away from it at all."

"I am sure I owe you an endless debt of gratitude," answered Denham
earnestly. "The only thing is I don't believe you will ever give me a
chance of showing it."

"But I will; I am going to give you just such a chance before we part.
But that will keep. Now--when are you going to marry Ben Halse's
daughter?"

Denham stared, then burst into a joyous laugh.

"When? As soon as ever I can, by God!"

The stranger looked at him curiously.

"Do you know why I have helped you?" he said.

"Not in the least."

"On that account, and--on another. You were made for each other, and I
could see it. _I know_."

There was that in the tone, in the expression of the man's face, that
went to Denham's heart. He, then, had a sacred memory, which had
remained green all these years. Some telepathic thought seemed to
convey this. He put forth his band and the other took it.

"May I ask," he said, "if you devote life to befriending people in
similar circumstances?"

The other laughed--the dry, mirthless laugh which was the only form of
merriment in which he ever seemed to indulge.

"No, indeed. Once only, under similar circumstances. That was during
the trouble in Matabeleland."

"By Jove!"

Then fell an interval of silence, which neither seemed in a hurry to
break. The sun mounted higher and higher, and grew hot. At length the
mysterious stranger drew a parcel from his inner pocket. It was of no
size, but carefully done up in waterproof wrappings.

"You have given me your word," he said, "and you have kept it--I mean as
to having met me at all. You can account for your escape, as may occur
to you, but no word, no hint about me. Another condition I must impose
upon you, and that is that you take no further part in the fighting
here, but proceed straight to England, and deliver the contents of this
packet in the quarter whither they are addressed. But the packet is not
to be opened until you are on English soil. Do you agree?"

"Most certainly. Why, I owe you everything, even life."

"Even life, as you say. And not even to the girl you love must you
divulge the knowledge of my existence--the secrets between man and man
are just as inviolable as those b