At lunch Sanders was unusually silent, a silence which was unnoticed, save by the girl. Bones and his friend, however, needed no stimulation. Lunch was an almost deafening meal, and when the time came for the duc to leave, the whole party went down to the beach to see him embark.
"Good-bye, old Mug!" roared Bones, as the boat pulled away. "Whoop! hi! how!"
"You're a noisy devil," said Hamilton, admiringly.
"Vox populi, vox Dei," said Bones.
He had an unexpected visitor that evening, for whilst he was dressing for dinner, Sanders came into his hut—an unusual happening.
What Sanders had to say may not be related since it was quite unofficial, but Bones came to dinner that night and behaved with such decorum and preserved a mien so grave, that Hamilton thought he was ill.
The duc continued his journey down the African Coast and presently came to a port which was little more than a beach, a jetty, a big white house, and by far the most imposing end of the Moanda road. In due time, he arrived by the worst track in the world (he was six days on the journey) at Moanda itself, and came into the presence of the Governor.
Did the duc but know it, his Excellency had also been prepared for the young man's mission. The mail had arrived by carrier the day before the duc put in his appearance, and Pinto Bonaventura had his little piece all ready to say.
"I will give you all the assistance I possibly can," he said, as they sat at déjeuner, "but, naturally, I cannot guarantee you immunity."
"Immunity?" said the puzzled duc.