emained perfectly quiet, and the night passed without an alarm of any
kind, even the ultra-particular night-watchman failing for once to
discover so much as the shadow of one of his customary nocturnal
horrors.

Thus did Leigh and his astute comrade for the second time miss the
secret of the place, or, as it is known amongst the scattered native
tribes, the "Black Pass of the Dark Spirit of Evil."

For hours that evening did Leigh and Kenyon discuss the question of the
mysterious disappearance of the slave caravan, for that those who
composed it had not penetrated as far as their own present position they
had quite satisfied themselves before pitching their tent for the night.

The outer, or western end of the rocky defile debouched upon highlands
of soft spongy turf, and this nowhere bore the slightest impress of a
human foot, which it would most certainly have done had anyone crossed
it recently; indeed, had the "slave-drive" passed that way, the whole
place would have been paddled like a sheep pen.

"You may well cudgel your brains, Leigh," said Kenyon, after hours of
profitless arguing on the following night, "for those fellows never left
the kloof either by this end or the other after they once entered it.
Tell me, Leigh," he continued, venturing a question, which, hardened
man-hunter that he was, had scores of times trembled upon the tip of his
tongue in the past few months, and had yet remained unasked--"tell me,
have you no clue, no idea, and absolutely no theory as to who was
responsible for the murder of your wife and child? for foully murdered I
am quite convinced they were."

Vitally important as the query was, Kenyon would have given all he
possessed could he have withdrawn the words ere they were well spoken,
for the fearful anguish depicted in the countenance of his friend gave
him, for but one second as it were, a fleeting glimpse of the agony of
soul in which this strong man lived from day-to-day, and from hour to
hour. The misery of expression was awful, but a glance infinitely less
keen than that of the skilled detective would have noted, with a wealth
of pity, that it was a misery which had never learned to say "Thy will
be done."

For full five minutes did Leigh hide his face in his hands and give no
answering sign, and it was the detective who had once again to break the
dread silence.

"Forgive me," he said, "old friend, if I have torn the quivering wound
anew, and believe me when I say t