e principal door.

A black servant--a stranger--held the handle, and stood back invitingly.
Supported by Joseph's arm, Jack Meredith entered. The servant threw open
the drawing-room door; they passed in. The room was empty. On the
table lay two letters, one addressed to Guy Oscard, the other to Jack
Meredith. Meredith felt suddenly how weak he was, and sat wearily down
on the sofa.

"Give me that letter," he said.

Joseph looked at him keenly. There was something forlorn and cold
about the room--about the whole house--with the silent, smiling, black
servants and the shaded windows.

Joseph handed the letter as desired, and then, with quick practised
hands, he poured a small quantity of brandy into the cup of his flask.
"Drink this first, sir," he said.

Jack Meredith fumbled rather feebly at the letter. It was distinctly an
effort to him to tear the paper.

"MY DEAR MEREDITH" (he read),--"Just a line to tell you that the
Bungalow and its contents are at your service. Jocelyn and I are off
home for two months' change of air. I have been a bit seedy. I leave
this at the Bungalow, and we shall feel hurt if you do not make the
house your home whenever you happen to come down to Loango. I have left
a similar note for Oscard, in whose expedition to your relief I have all
faith.--Yours ever,

"MAURICE GORDON."

"Here," said Meredith to his servant, "you may as well read it for
yourself."

He handed the letter to Joseph and leant back with a strange rapidity
of movement on the sofa. As he lay there with his eyes closed he looked
remarkably like a dead man.

While Joseph was reading the letter the sound of bare feet on the
cocoa-leaf matting made him turn round.

A small, rotund white figure of a child, clad in a cotton garment, stood
in the doorway, finger in mouth, gazing gravely at the two occupants of
the room.

"Nestorius!" exclaimed Joseph, "by all that's holy! Well, I AM glad to
see you, my son. Where's Mammy, eh?"

Nestorius turned gravely round and pointed a small dusky finger in the
direction of the servants' quarters. Then he replaced the finger between
his lips and came slowly forward to examine Meredith, who had opened his
eyes.

"Well, stout Nestorius. This is a bad case, is it not?" said the sick
man.

"Bad case," repeated Nestorius mechanically.

At that moment Marie came into the room, dignified, gentle,
self-possessed.

"Ah, missis," said Joseph, "I'm glad