Part 13 (1/2)

Thereon a voice that instantly struck me as familiar, answered:

”We want to know where the great hunter lives.”

”_Ikona_,” said the Kafir.

”Can't you remember his native name?” asked another voice which was also familiar to me, for I never forget voices though I am unable to place them at once.

”The great hunter, Here-come-a-zany,” said the first voice triumphantly, and instantly there flashed back upon my mind a vision of the splendid drawing-room at Ragnall Castle and of an imposing majordomo introducing into it two white-robed, Arab-looking men.

”Mr. Savage, by the Heavens!” I muttered. ”What in the name of goodness is he doing here?”

”There,” said the second voice, ”your black friend has bolted, and no wonder, for who can be called by such a name? If you had done what I told you, Savage, and hired a white guide, it would have saved us a lot of trouble. Why will you always think that you know better than anyone else?”

”Seemed an unnecessary expense, my lord, considering we are travelling incog., my lord.”

”How long shall we travel 'incog.' if you persist in calling me my lord at the top of your voice, Savage? There is a house beyond those trees; go in and ask where----”

By this time I had reached the gate which I opened, remarking quietly,

”How do you do, Lord Ragnall? How do you do, Mr. Savage? I thought that I recognized your voices on the road and came to see if I was right.

Please walk in; that is, if it is I whom you wish to visit.”

As I spoke I studied them both, and observed that while Savage looked much the same, although slightly out of place in these strange surroundings, the time that had pa.s.sed since we met had changed Lord Ragnall a good deal. He was still a magnificent-looking man, one of those whom no one that had seen him would ever forget, but now his handsome face was stamped with some new seal of suffering. I felt at once that he had become acquainted with grief. The shadow in his dark eyes and a certain worn expression about the mouth told me that this was so.

”Yes, Quatermain,” he said as he took my hand, ”it is you whom I have travelled seven thousand miles to visit, and I thank G.o.d that I have been so fortunate as to find you. I feared lest you might be dead, or perhaps far away in the centre of Africa where I should never be able to track you down.”

”A week later perhaps you would not have found me, Lord Ragnall,” I answered, ”but as it happens misfortune has kept me here.”

”And misfortune has brought me here, Quatermain.”

Then before I had time to answer Savage came up and we went into the house.

”You are just in time for lunch,” I said, ”and as luck will have it there is a good rock cod and a leg of oribe buck for you to eat. Boy, set two more places.”

”One more place, if you please, sir,” said Savage. ”I should prefer to take my food afterwards.”

”You will have to get over that in Africa,” I muttered. Still I let him have his way, with the result that presently the strange sight was seen of the magnificent English majordomo standing behind my chair in the little room and handing round the square-face as though it were champagne. It was a spectacle that excited the greatest interest in my primitive establishment and caused Hans with some native hangers-on to gather at the window. However, Lord Ragnall took it as a matter of course and I thought it better not to interfere.

When we had finished we went on to the stoep to smoke, leaving Savage to eat his dinner, and I asked Lord Ragnall where his luggage was. He replied that he had left it at the Customs. ”Then,” I said, ”I will send a native with Savage to arrange about getting it up here. If you do not mind my rough accommodation there is a room for you, and your man can pitch a tent in the garden.”

After some demur he accepted with grat.i.tude, and a little later Savage and the native were sent off with a note to a man who hired out a mule-cart.

”Now,” I said when the gate had shut behind them, ”will you tell me why you have come to Africa?”

”Disaster,” he replied. ”Disaster of the worst sort.”

”Is your wife dead, Lord Ragnall?”

”I do not know. I almost hope that she is. At any rate she is lost to me.”