shake and the
colour to leave his face, and started him bolt upright? He stared at
the sheet again and again. Yes, there it was. He was not dreaming.
The sheet of paper was material, substantial; the words on it, written
in a somewhat flourishing, clerkly hand, were plain enough, and they
were to the effect that there had been placed to his credit, and lay at
his disposal, in the Standard Bank in Cape Town, the sum of twenty-five
thousand pounds.

Twenty-five thousand pounds! At his disposal! Heavens, what did it
mean? Some hoax? Some practical joke? Of course. But with the bank
communication was an enclosure. This he opened with trembling fingers,
and thus it ran--

"In carrying out my instructions, John Ames, as you have done to the
very letter, you have rendered me a service beyond any money value. Go
now and be happy with her whom you love, and this end the accompanying
communication will materially further. Do not spoil your happiness by
any cursed foolish pride, or insane ideas of being under an obligation,
for this sum is less to me than a five-pound note would be to you
probably at this moment"--again that well-nigh superhuman gift of
forecast--"and take no more risks, but go in peace while you, or rather
while _ye_, may--_the road is still open_--and by your lifelong
happiness continue to justify the forecasts of:--

"Umlimo."

This, then, was what meant the opening of the packet marked "B."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

...AND THE ODD TRICK.

John Ames stared at this communication till his eyes were dizzy, and a
wild rush of joy surged through his being. Its genuineness he could not
doubt. The bank paper, the bank seal--even the signature of the letter
he knew by name. Now he was no longer a penniless nobody, but the
possessor of what was really a small fortune. Why, indeed, should any
false pride stand in the way of his acceptance of it? People received
bequests, even from unknown testators--received them thankfully; why
should not he? The testator was living, yet practically dead to his
kind. Again, there was a sort of appeal in the very wording of this
strange communication. Why should he wreck his life's happiness upon
any rock of false pride? He could now press his suit upon, at any rate,
independent terms.

Then, to dash his exultation, in came that ugly thought again. Could it
really be that that odious woman was deputed by Nidia? Horrible! What
was this sudden access to