"We haven't seen him for some days. Do you know, I can't help connecting his non-appearance with your return in some way. He must have known you would soon be here. Father is quite irritable and angry about it. He says the witch doctor promised to let him into all sorts of things. Now he pronounces him an arrant humbug." "That's the best sign of all," I said, "and I hope he'll continue of that opinion. When elderly gentlemen take up fads bearing upon the occult especially, why, it isn't good for them. You don't mind my saying this?" "Mind? Of course I don't mind. Why should I have bothered you with my silly fears and misgivings--at a time too when you had so much else to think about--if I were to take offence at what you said? And it seems so safe now that you are near us again." What was this? Again a sort of shadow seemed to come over our talk. Was it only on account of some imaginary protection my presence might afford that she had been so cordially and unfeignedly glad to welcome me? "I think you may make your mind quite easy now," I said. "This Ukozi had some end of his own to serve, possibly that of stealing the dog, which he knew he could trade for a good price in Zululand, and probably did. I suppose Falkner gave you a full, true and particular account of how we bested the precious specimen who claimed him." She laughed. "Oh, he's been bragging about that, and all your adventures--or rather his--up there, in quite his own style." "Well, there was nothing for either of us to brag about in the way we recovered Arlo," I said. "If the King's impi hadn't happened along in the nick of time I own frankly we might never have been able to recover him at all. It was a hundred to one, you understand." Again she laughed, significantly, and I read into the laugh the fact that she did not quite accept Falkner's narratives at precisely Falkner's own valuation. "How did Falkner behave himself?" she went on. "Oh, he was all right. He was always spoiling for a fight and on one occasion he got it. I daresay he has told you about that." "Yes," she said, with the same significant laugh. "He gave us a graphic account of it." "Well he has plenty of pluck and readiness, and a man might have many a worse companion in an emergency." "It's nice of you to say that. I don't believe he was a bit nice to you." "Oh, only a boy's sulks," I said airily. "Nothing to bother oneself about in that." "But was that all?" she rejoined, lifting her clear eyes to my face. "Perhaps not," I answered, then something in her glance moved me to add: "May I tell you then, what it was that caused our differences, who it was, rather?" And I put forth my hand. "Yes," she said, taking it. "Tell me." "It was yourself." "Myself?" "Yes. Do you remember what you said that last evening I was here? I do. I've treasured every word of it since. You said I was to come and see you directly I returned, and that you would look forward to it."