I've got it, and Hilary's the man to help me."

It was characteristic of Nicholas to forget his own share in that little
ten-day-old scene. Also it may be safely averred that Doctor Hilary would
be equally forgetful.

Nicholas still sat gazing into the fire, chuckling every now and then to
himself. It was midnight before he rang for Jessop. The ringing had been
preceded by one short sentence.

"By gad, Nick the dare-devil, the scheme's worthy of the old days."

CHAPTER I

THE LETTER

Antony was sitting on the stoep of his bungalow. The African sun was
bathing the landscape in a golden glory. Before him lay his garden, a
medley of brilliant colour. Just beyond it was a field of green Indian
corn, scintillating to silver as a little breeze swept its surface.
Beyond it again lay the vineyard, and the thatched roof of an old Dutch
farmhouse half hidden among trees. Farther off still rose the mountains,
golden in the sunlight.

It was the middle of the afternoon. Silence reigned around, broken only
by the occasional chirp of a grasshopper, the muffled note of a frog, the
twitter of the canaries among the cosmos, or the rustle of the reed
curtain which veiled the end of the stoep.

The reed curtain veiled the bathroom, a primitive affair, the bath
consisting of half an old wine vat, filled with velvety mountain water,
conducted thither by means of a piece of hose-piping attached to the
solitary water tap the estate possessed. It was emptied by means of a
bung fixed in the lower part of the vat, the water affording irrigation
for the garden.

Antony sat very still. His coat lay beside him on the stoep. A small
wire-haired puppy named Josephus mounted guard upon it. Woe betide the
person other than Antony's self who ventured to lay finger on the
garment. There would be a bristling of short wiry white hair, a showing
of baby white teeth, and a series of almost incredibly vicious growls.
Josephus permitted no man to take liberties with his master's property,
nor indeed with his ridiculously dignified small self. Antony was the
sole exception to his rule. But then was not he a king among men, a
person whose word was law, whose caress a benediction, whose blow a thing
for which to demand mute pardon? You knew it was deserved, though the
knowledge might possibly at times be vague, since your wisdom was as yet
but puppy wisdom.

Now and again Josephus hung out a pink tongue, a tongue which demanded
milk in a sau