“Lot of money—about four hundred pounds! But you can trust me to see to it all right.”
“No fear, sir,” replied Joseph grandly. “I'm quite content, I'm sure, that you should have the—fingering o' the dibs.”
As he finished—somewhat lamely perhaps—his rounded periods, he looked very deliberately over Oscard's shoulder towards Durnovo, who was approaching them.
Meredith walked a little way down the slope with Oscard.
“Good-bye, old chap!” he said when the parting came. “Good luck, and all that. Hope you will find all right at home. By the way,” he shouted after him, “give my kind regards to the Gordons at Loango.”
And so the first consignment of Simiacine was sent from the Plateau to the coast.
Guy Oscard was one of those deceptive men who only do a few things, and do those few very well. In forty-three days he deposited the twenty precious cases in Gordon's godowns at Loango, and paid off the porters, of whom he had not lost one. These duties performed, he turned his steps towards the bungalow. He had refused Gordon's invitation to stay with him until the next day, when the coasting steamer was expected. To tell the truth, he was not very much prepossessed in Maurice's favour, and it was with a doubtful mind that he turned his steps towards the little house in the forest between Loango and the sea.
The room was the first surprise that awaited him, its youthful mistress the second. Guy Oscard was rather afraid of most women. He did not understand them, and probably he despised them. Men who are afraid or ignorant often do.
“And when did you leave them?” asked Jocelyn, after her visitor had explained who he was. He was rather taken aback by so much dainty refinement in remote Africa, and explained rather badly. But she helped him out by intimating that she knew all about him.
“I left them forty-four days ago,” he replied.