“He is a good fellow, Mazooku,” said Ernest, when the Zulu had gone; “but I fear that one of two things will happen to him. Either he will get homesick and become a nuisance, or he will get civilised and become drunken and degraded. I should have done better to leave him in Natal.”
CHAPTER II.
ERNEST’S EVIL DESTINY
About nine o’clock on the morning following Mazooku’s oration, a young lady came running up the stairs of the principal Plymouth hotel, and burst into a private sitting-room, like a human bomb-shell of attractive appearance, somewhat to the astonishment of a bald old gentleman who was sitting at breakfast.
“Good gracious, Dorothy, have you gone suddenly mad?”
“O Reginald, the Conway Castle is nearly in, and I have been to the office and got leave for us to go off in the launch; so come along, quick!”
“What time does the launch leave?”
“A quarter to ten exactly.”
“Then we have three-quarters of an hour.”
“O please, Reginald, be quick; it might go before, you know.”
Mr. Cardus smiled, and, rising, put on his hat and coat, “to oblige Dorothy,” he said; but, as a matter of fact, he was as excited as she was. There was a patch of red on each of his pale cheeks, and his hand shook.