“Yes.”
“Then farewell. We shall never meet again, but I know you will carry out everything.”
“That I will. Good-bye.”
They clasped hands, and as Denham rode away from the spot he wondered whether he had been dreaming. At the top of the rise he looked back. The other had disappeared.
“Come, Nkose!” said Mandevu, his tall form striding on in front at the pace of the horse’s fast walk.
Chapter Thirty.
“Curtain.”
The Nodwengu Hotel at Ezulwini was in such a state of turn-out and general excitement as had never occurred within the walls of that not very antique establishment. The big central room, ordinarily used for concerts or dances or public meetings, was crammed with laid-out tables wherever a plate and knife and fork could be crowded in, while the smaller one, the dining-room under conditions of everyday life, was entirely handed over to the bottle department. All this, however, did not herald a royal visit—only a wedding.