d himself Ali, it was, as Bones admitted, "sheer swank" to do so,
for this man had "coast" written all over him.

He got up slowly and saluted first his master, then Sanders, and lastly
Hamilton.

Bones had found him at Cape Coast Castle on the occasion of a joy-ride
which the young officer had taken on a British man-of-war. Ali Abid had
been the heaven-sent servant, and though Sanders had a horror of natives
who spoke English, the English of Ali Abid was his very own.

He had been for five years the servant of Professor Garrileigh, the
eminent bacteriologist, the account of whose researches in the field of
tropical medicines fill eight volumes of closely-printed matter, every
page of which contains words which are not to be found in most lexicons.

They walked back to the Residency, Ali Abid in the rear.

"I want you to go up to the Isongo, Bones," said Sanders; "there may be
some trouble there--a woman is working miracles."

"He might get a new head," murmured Hamilton, but Bones pretended not to
hear.

"Use your tact and get back before the 17th for the party."

"The----?" asked Bones.

He had an irritating trick of employing extravagant gestures of a
fairly commonplace kind. Thus, if he desired to hear a statement
repeated--though he had heard it well enough the first time--he
would bend his head with a puzzled wrinkle of forehead, put his hand
to his ear and wait anxiously, even painfully, for the repetition.

"You heard what the Commissioner said," growled Hamilton.
"Party--P-A-R-T-Y."

"My birthday is not until April, your Excellency," said Bones.

"I'd guess the date--but what's the use?" interposed Hamilton.

"It isn't a birthday party, Bones," said Sanders. "We are giving a
house-warming for Miss Hamilton."

Bones gasped, and turned an incredulous eye upon his chief.

"You haven't a sister, surely, dear old officer?" he asked.

"Why the dickens shouldn't I have a sister?" demanded his chief.

Bones shrugged his shoulders.

"A matter of deduction, sir," he said quietly. "Absence of all evidence
of a soothin' and lovin' influence in your lonely an' unsympathetic
upbringin'; hardness of heart an' a disposition to nag, combined with a
rough and unpromisin' exterior--a sister, good Lord!"

"Anyway, she's coming, Bones," said Hamilton; "and she's looking forward
to seeing you--I've written an awful lot about you."

Bones smirked.

"Of course," he said, "you've overdone it a bit--women hate t