That walk was a nightmare. My wet skirts flapped round my legs, and my stockings were soon torn off by the thorns. Finally I stopped, utterly exhausted. Harry came back to me.
“Hold up, honey. I’ll carry you for a bit.”
That was the way I came into Livingstone, slung across his shoulder like a sack of coals. How he did it for all that way, I don’t know. The first faint light of dawn was just breaking. Harry’s friend was a young man of twenty odd who kept a store of native curios. His name was Ned—perhaps he had another, but I never heard it. He didn’t seem in the least surprised to see Harry walk in, dripping wet, holding an equally dripping female by the hand. Men are very wonderful.
He gave us food to eat, and hot coffee, and got our clothes dried for us whilst we rolled ourselves in Manchester blankets of gaudy hue. In the tiny back room of the hut we were safe from observation whilst he departed to make judicious inquiries as to what had become of Sir Eustace’s party, and whether any of them were still at the hotel.
It was then that I informed Harry that nothing would induce me to go to Beira. I never meant to, anyway, but now all reason for such proceedings had vanished. The point of the plan had been that my enemies believed me dead. Now that they knew I wasn’t dead, my going to Beira would do no good whatever. They could easily follow me there and murder me quietly. I should have no one to protect me. It was finally arranged that I should join Suzanne, wherever she was, and devote all my energies to taking care of myself. On no account was I to seek adventures or endeavour to checkmate the “Colonel.”
I was to remain quietly with her and await instructions from Harry. The diamonds were to be deposited in the Bank at Kimberley under the name of Parker.
“There’s one thing,” I said thoughtfully, “we ought to have a code of some kind. We don’t want to be hoodwinked again by messages purporting to come from one to the other.”
“That’s easy enough. Any message that comes genuinely from me will have the word ‘and’ crossed out in it.”
“Without trade-mark, none genuine,” I murmured. “What about wires?”
“Any wires from me will be signed ‘Andy.’”