The three thus marked for fame looked down their noses and felt uncomfortable.
“Glad we got him,” Jim said, awkwardly. “I wonder what about his nephew in our contingent, by the way?”
The captain laughed.
“I rather fancy you wouldn’t find that nephew,” he said. “If he exists—well, he’s probably in a trench, fighting in France, with a name like Johann and an unpleasant propensity for beer!”
CHAPTER XI.
DURBAN.
THE Perseus was coming gently in to Durban Harbour, past a long breakwater and a high green bluff that towered sheer from the water. Some one had just told Norah that it swarmed with monkeys, and she was straining curious eyes upwards, trying vainly to pierce the dense growth that covered it.
“Well, it may,” she said aloud, in accents of disappointment. “But I can’t see a sign.”
“A sign of what?” asked Wally’s cheerful voice.
“Monkeys. Mr. West says they are there, and I did want to see them. To see them . . .