“What has become of Kildare?”
“Oh, he has set his scheme afloat, and is sailing along. The great gold mining company is now in popular favour. By the by, he compliments the doctor on being the best Poker player, but one, on the Fields.”
“And what may be the name of his superior?”
“Why, Major Kildare, of course. He thinks Doctor Fox the best fellow in the country. I suppose you know that the Major accepted his invitation to call and take his revenge, and won back all his money, and immediately went out on the market and bought the finest tiger skin he could find, and hung it in his office. So that is why there is one man in Africa better than the doctor in playing the little game of Poker.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” said Schwatka, sarcastically; as he strolled away, Donald joined the doctor, who was sitting on deck by Dainty’s side, and offered him a cigar. The day was lovely. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the ocean.
“Laure,” said the doctor, “do you know what became of that diamond which the detectives couldn’t find, and which was hidden in the Bushman’s eye?”
Donald’s cigar fell from his mouth, and he seemed to shrivel up in his chair. “If you don’t,” continued the doctor, as coolly as if he had asked the time of day, “I do.”
“You!” gasped Donald.
“Yes. I believe it is in a mail bag on board this very steamer.”
“Impossible!” ejaculated Donald.