"Henry Pym, you've probably heard of him, is likely to arrive here in a few days."
Stanley opened his eyes a little. "What! the millionaire?... Good biz! We'll rook him at poker and bridge and shooting, and a few other things. It isn't right for him to have all that money. It would even things up a little if we could transfer some of it to poor, penniless policemen."
"He is accompanied by his daughter and a niece," said Carew in even tones.
"Lord love a holy duck!..." exclaimed the young policeman, and was fairly astonished on to his feet. "Coming here, sir?... Coming here to Zimbabwe?"
"So the letter says. It also adds that they may wish to camp near, and they are to be shown every attention."
"They shall be ..." quoth The Kid, so comically that even Carew's lips relaxed. "I suppose the letter doesn't specify the attention?... Christopher Columbus!... Great Scott!... Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!... To think of two millionaires' daughters all at once in this benighted, thirsty land!... It fairly catches me in the breath," and he sat down again suddenly as if the news was too much for him.
"By gad, Moore!... do you hear that?... a bloated millionaire and two millionairesses are about to descend upon us from the skies. Talk of manna and blessings coming down from heaven!... Give me millionairesses!..."
The Irishman looked up with a knowing smile. "Shure!" said he, "give me whisky...."
"Begorra, Pat!" laughed The Kid. "If you got the heiress you could swim in whisky." Then he looked again at Major Carew and observed the suggestion of a frown still on his face while he stood with the letter in his hand.
"Heiresses are seemingly not much in your line, sir?" he suggested humorously. "You ... well, you don't quite look overjoyed!..."