w men better than his
indifferent manner would have led the observer to believe. Durnovo's was
just one of those natures which in good hands might have been turned to
good account. Too much solitude, too much dealing with negro peoples,
and, chiefly, too long a sojourn in the demoralising atmosphere of West
Africa, had made a worse man of Victor Durnovo than Nature originally
intended. He was not wholly bad. Badness is, after all, a matter of
comparison, and, in order to draw correctly such a comparison, every
allowance must be made for a difference in standard. Victor Durnovo's
standard was not a high one; that was all. And in continuing to treat
him as an equal, and trust him as such, Guy Oscard only showed that he
was a cleverer man than the world took him to be.

In due time Msala was reached. As the canoes suitable for up-river
traffic were by no means sufficient to transport the whole of the
expeditionary force in one journey, a division was made. Durnovo took
charge of the advance column, journeying up to the camp from which the
long march through the forest was to begin, and sending back the canoes
for Oscard and the remainder of the force. With these canoes he sent
back word that the hostile tribes were within a few days' march, and
that he was fortifying his camp.

This news seemed to furnish Guy Oscard with food for considerable
thought, and after some space of time he called Marie.

She came, and, standing before him with her patient dignity of mien,
awaited his communications. She never took her eyes off the letter in
his hand. Oscard noticed the persistency of her gaze at the time, and
remembered it again afterwards.

"Marie," he said, "I have had rather serious news from Mr. Durnovo."

"Yes?" rather breathlessly.

"It will not be safe for you to stay at Msala--you must take the
children down to Loango."

"Does he say that?" she asked, in her rapid, indistinct English.

"Who?"

"Vic--Mr. Durnovo."

"No," replied Oscard, wondering at the question.

"He does not say anything about me or the children?" persisted Marie.

"No."

"And yet he says there is danger?"

There was a strange, angry look in her great dark eyes which Oscard did
not understand.

"He says that the tribes are within two days' march of his camp."

She gave an unpleasant little laugh.

"He does not seem to have thought of us at Msala."

"I suppose," said Oscard, folding the letter and putting it in his
pocket, "that he