previous financial
transactions--before I had the pleasure of meeting my present valued
colleague, the Honourable Mr. Morcombe-Lycett--and who is now taking
care to inform the world that we are living in South America."

"And how are we going to account for our boxes of sovereigns? Two mining
speculators don't usually carry about heavy sums in gold."

"All managed, my boy. My friend, Mr. Moses Steinberg, will see to
that. The ten thousand sovereigns will be valuable gold specimens from
Queensland, and will be placed on board the North German Lloyd's steamer
at Singapore for safe conveyance to London, where you and I, my dear
boy, will follow it And there also we shall find, I trust, an additional
sum of fifteen thousand lying to our credit--the proceeds of our honest
toil."

"What are you going to do with Sykes?"

"Give him L500 and tell him to hold his tongue. He's a thundering
rascal, and we must pay to shut his mouth."

Then the two proceeded to discuss their lunch, and as they ate and drank
and talked and laughed, Banderah and three or four of his men whispered
together.

"Seize them from behind and bind them tightly," said the chief, "but
kill them not, for that I have promised to Challi."

The Honourable Morcombe-Lycett had just finished his last glass of
bottled beer and wanted to smoke. He had taken out his cigar-case,
and, wondering at the sudden silence which had fallen upon their native
guides, turned round to see where they were, and saw swiftly advancing
upon himself and his companion some half a dozen stalwart natives. In
that momentary glance he read danger, and quick as lightning--for he
was no coward--he seized his loaded gun, which lay beside him, and fired
both barrels one after another, at not ten yards' range.

A chorus of savage yells answered the shots, as two of the natives fell,
but ere he could reload or Dalton could fire there came a fierce rush
of all the dark-skinned men upon them, and, struggling madly for their
lives, they were borne down.

And then the lust of slaughter overcame their fierce assailants, and
despite Banderah and two or three of his most trusted men, a club was
raised and fell swiftly upon the white, fair forehead of "Mr. de Vere"
as he sought to tear away his hands from the vice-like grasp of two huge
natives who held them.

"Death to them both!" cried a thin-faced, wrinkled old man named Toka;
"_hutu_:{*} for the lives of the thirty and one." Then springing ou