e greatest
_nonchalance_; and, on reaching the building which had been pointed out
to him the previous night, simply and plainly told the guard that he
wished to have speech of the condemned woman. Without a word of reply,
one of the men on duty signed to Kenyon to follow him, and well might
our adventurer, under the loose folds of his cloak, clench his fingers
over the butt of a friendly revolver when he found himself ushered
directly into the well-known and hated presence of Zero the Slaver. For
a moment the impulse was almost unconquerable in Kenyon to slip out his
six-shooter and make an end of this inhuman monster without further
palaver; but, recognising how much hung upon the result of his actions
that night, he wisely restrained his passions.

The slaver was sitting in a handsomely got-up room carpeted with furs,
and thick with weapons and with trophies of the chase, and opposite to
him--fortunately, perhaps, for Kenyon--sat the native king already
spoken of, and who immediately did our adventurer reverence, in his
capacity of Muzi Zimba the Ancient.

As the guard detailed his errand. Zero rose with a sneering laugh.
"Ay! let him go to her," he said, "and look 'ee here, old man, if this
captive escapes me as did the last ones, thine own life shall pay the
forfeit. Now go, nay, by all the Gods, I will go too!" and, passing on
in front of the supposed hermit, he provided Kenyon with another almost
overpowering temptation to use his weapons.

Unbarring the door of another room, Zero let the hermit in and closed
the portal behind them both, and Kenyon found himself face to face with
an imperially beautiful woman, still quite young, but whose lovely face
was worn with sorrow and anguish, and furrowed with her bitter tears. A
tall, well-knit figure, a wealth of lustrous golden hair, and glorious
deep blue eyes, formed a _tout ensemble_ which might have won pity from
a stone, but had no effect whatever upon this scoundrel who battened on
human misery.

"Well, madam," said the slaver, in cutting tones, "you have your own
obstinacy to thank for your death, which takes place to-morrow. Here's
a priest for you, so be quick and say your patter, or whatever it is.
You'd be surprised to see how fast your precious boy is picking up the
tenets of our Holy Mormon Faith," and the demon laughed a jeering,
taunting laugh, which made Kenyon's blood boil, and he could have kissed
the feet of the defenceless woman before him