we arrived at Cape Town. I was standing on deck, looking out for the
first time in my life on that tremendous view--the steep and massive
bulk of Table Mountain,--a mere lump of rock, dropped loose from the
sky, with the long white town spread gleaming at its base, and the
silver-tree plantations that cling to its lower slopes and merge by
degrees into gardens and vineyards--when a messenger from the shore came
up to me tentatively.

"Dr. Cumberledge?" he said, in an inquiring tone.

I nodded. "That is my name."

"I have a letter for you, sir."

I took it, in great surprise. Who on earth in Cape Town could have
known I was coming? I had not a friend to my knowledge in the colony.
I glanced at the envelope. My wonder deepened. That prescient brain! It
was Hilda's handwriting.

I tore it open and read:

"MY DEAR HUBERT,--I KNOW you will come; I KNOW you will follow me. So
I am leaving this letter at Donald Currie & Co.'s office, giving their
agent instructions to hand it to you as soon as you reach Cape Town.
I am quite sure you will track me so far at least; I understand your
temperament. But I beg you, I implore you, to go no further. You will
ruin my plan if you do. And I still adhere to it. It is good of you to
come so far; I cannot blame you for that. I know your motives. But
do not try to find me out. I warn you, beforehand, it will be quite
useless. I have made up my mind. I have an object in life, and, dear as
you are to me--THAT I will not pretend to deny--I can never allow even
YOU to interfere with it. So be warned in time. Go back quietly by the
next steamer.

"Your ever attached and grateful,

"HILDA."

I read it twice through with a little thrill of joy. Did any man ever
court so strange a love? Her very strangeness drew me. But go back by
the next steamer! I felt sure of one thing: Hilda was far too good a
judge of character to believe that I was likely to obey that mandate.

I will not trouble you with the remaining stages of my quest. Except
for the slowness of South African mail coaches, they were comparatively
easy. It is not so hard to track strangers in Cape Town as strangers in
London. I followed Hilda to her hotel, and from her hotel up
country, stage after stage--jolted by rail, worse jolted by
mule-waggon--inquiring, inquiring, inquiring--till I learned at last she
was somewhere in Rhodesia.

That is a big address; but it does not cover as many names as it covers
square miles.