. "Now you've
lugged me away from my millionaire factory, you must make it worth
while, and let's have time for a smoke and a yarn."

The Native Commissioner agreed to start an hour later; and then there
was much chaff at Peters' expense in his prospecting operations. Then
Driffield said--

"You'll be coming over to the race meeting at Gandela, I suppose,
Lamont?"

"Don't know. When is it?"

"End of week after next."

"I don't care much for race meetings."

"Oh, but there'll be a regular gymkhana--tent-pegging and all sorts of
fun. Oh, and Miss Vidal says you are to be sure and turn up."

"Oh, get out with you, Driffield, and take that yarn somewhere else."

"It's a solemn fact, Lamont. She was booming you no end the other day--
saying what a devil of a chap you were, and all that sort of thing. I
asked her if I should tell you to roll up at the race meeting, and she
answered in that candid, innocent way of hers `Of course.' You can't
stay away after that. Can he, Peters?"

"Not much."

"Oh well, I'll go then."

"You're in luck's way, Lamont. Miss Vidal's far and away the nicest
girl anywhere round here."

"She's all that, I allow." But a subtle note in the tone was not lost
upon one--and that one Ancram.

"So there is a girl in the case!" pronounced that worthy to himself. "I
thought there would be. And he would have cleared me out? Not yet,
friend Lamont. Not yet! Not until I've turned you to real good,
material use." And he now congratulated himself upon the Native
Commissioner's invitation to join his expedition, for in the course of
the same he would contrive to pump that official on the subject of
Lamont and his circumstances and standing in the locality, in such wise
that it would be hard if he could not turn the knowledge to the account
of his own especial advantage.

CHAPTER SIX.

THE DESIRE OF GANDELA.

"What on earth have you been doing to Jim Steele, Clare?" said Mrs
Fullerton, as she came into her drawing-room, and sank into a cane
chair. "He passed me in the gate looking as black as thunder. He made
a lug at his hat, growled like a dog, and was off like a shot. Look!
there he goes," pointing to a fast-receding figure pounding down the
strip of dusty road that fronted the straggling line of unpretentious
bungalows.

"I only refused him," was the half-laughing, half-sad reply. "What else
was I to do when I don't care two brass buttons about the man? Really,
L