“Surely you’ve heard about Mr. Donnington, major,” said the contesse. “He’s the millionaire who has come about the mining concessions in Beira, or somewhere.”
“No, I had not heard that,” he replied, with a little start, as if this might have suggested a clue to his problem. “Have you been in Beira, sir?”
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. “I suppose I ought not to own it, but I was never there in my life.”
“Major Sampayo knows every inch of South Africa, Mr. Donnington,” said the contesse. “He was out there at the time your country was at war with the Boers.”
“Oh, indeed,” said I, as if in great surprise. I knew that well enough. “Then I shall hope to get some wrinkles from him.”
“You served in that war, didn’t you, Mr. Donnington?” asked Miralda, evidently feeling she ought to say something.
“For a few months. I was in Bloemfontein and Mafeking.” I purposely named places as distant as possible from the spot where I had seen him. I did not wish him to recognize me yet.
“Were you out at the finish of the campaign?” he asked at the prompting of his uneasy fears.
“About the middle. I was sent down country after the relief of Mafeking.” This was half truth but also half lie. I had gone up again almost immediately. But it appeared to ease his unrest.
“I have a curious feeling that we have met somewhere,” he said; “and was wondering whether it could have been out in South Africa. That was the reason for my rather inquisitive questions.”