“And strange dreams, too,” was the reply, made with a certain significance. “When I woke up in the dark—”
“Are you sure you did wake up in the dark? Are you sure you did not dream you woke up?”
“Upon my word, I can’t tell. I sometimes think that in these days I can be sure of nothing.”
“Well, you shall hear what will give you something to rejoice over. The ‘friend’ you were taking care of is safe.”
“Safe?”
“Yes. I told you exactly what had happened. And now she will be in Bulawayo as soon as yourself.”
“As soon as myself?”
“Yes, for you will soon be there. You see, I have a use to turn you to. I have a message for the outside world, and you shall be the means of transmitting it.”
“That will I do, with the greatest of pleasure. But what if I do not get through? The Matabele seem to be taking to the hills in force, and it’s a long few days to get through from where we are—or were, rather, should I say, for I’m not at all sure where I am now.”
“Quite right, John Ames. You are not. Still you shall get through. And then, when you rejoin your ‘friend’—the girl with the very blue eyes, and the quick lift of the eyelids, and the animated countenance changing vividly with every expression, and the brown-gold hair—I suppose you will think life holds for you no greater good?”