And then followed further particulars.

Warren had little doubt as to the genuineness of the missive. It was
matter of common report that there had been serious disturbances in the
remoter parts of Zululand between the faction which cleaved to the
captive and exiled King, and that which did not, to wit that influenced
by most of the thirteen kinglets appointed under the Wolseley
settlement. Wyvern and his friend had somehow got mixed up in one of
these ructions, and--there was an end of them.

Unlocking a drawer he got out the portrait of Lalante, and set it
upright before him. She was his now; not all at once of course, but
when she began to get over her loss, when the first sense of it began to
be bluntened. He was far too cautious in his knowledge of human nature
to hurry matters; to seem to "rush" her in any way. His was the part of
earnest sympathiser. He would sound the dead man's praises in every
way, and on every available opportunity. He would make himself
necessary to her by doing this when other people had practically
forgotten that any such person had ever existed. In time she would turn
to him, not for a long time it might be--Warren was shrewd enough to
realise this--but time was nothing and he could afford to wait, even as
he had waited already, and he knew full well that next to Wyvern there
was no man living of whom Lalante held a higher opinion than himself.

The river incident had had much to do with cementing this. Fervently
Warren blessed that incident, and had done his best to make the most of
it; not by dwelling on it in any way, on the contrary if it was ever
mentioned he would pooh-pooh it and change the subject. But he was more
than ever welcome at Le Sage's, and made a good deal of his welcome by
being frequently there. Moreover he knew that in Le Sage himself he had
a powerful and steadfast ally.

All this ran through his busy mind as he gazed at the portrait in a
perfect ecstasy of love and passion; taking in the splendid outlines of
the form, the straight glance of the fearless wide-opened eyes, the
seductive attractiveness of the face, firm, yet so sweet and tender.
His! his at last I and yet he would need all his patience. Then a tap
at the door brought him back to the practicalities of the hard, business
world again. Drawing some papers over the portrait, he sung out:

"Come in."

A clerk entered.

"There's a party downstairs wants to see you, sir. Roughish looking