“Yes,” she answered at length, in a quiet voice. “I will go if you wish to go, not because I want to find treasure, but because the story and the country where it happened interest me. Indeed, I don’t believe much in the treasure. Even if they are superstitious and afraid to look for it themselves, I doubt whether they would allow you to look if they thought it could be found. To me the journey does not seem a good business speculation, also there are risks.” “We think it good enough,” broke in Meyer decidedly. “And one does not expect to get millions without trouble.” “Yes, yes,” said her father; “but she is right--there are risks, great risks--fever, wild beasts, savages, and others that one cannot foresee. Have I a right to expose her to them? Ought we not to go alone?” “It would be useless,” answered Meyer. “Those messengers have seen your daughter, and mixed her up with their superstitious story of a ghost, of which I, who know that there are no such things, believe nothing. Without her now we shall certainly fail.” “As for the risks, father,” said Benita, “personally I take no account of them, for I am sure that what is to happen will happen, and if I knew that I was to die upon the Zambesi, it would make no difference to me who do not care. But as it chances, I think--I cannot tell you why--that you and Mr. Meyer are in more danger than I am. It is for you to consider whether you will take the risks.” Mr. Clifford smiled. “I am old,” he said; “that is my answer.” “And I am accustomed to such things,” said Meyer, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Who would not run a little danger for the sake of such a glorious chance? Wealth, wealth, more wealth than we can dream of, and with it, power--power to avenge, to reward, to buy position, and pleasure, and all beautiful things which are the heritage of the very rich alone,” and he spread out his hands and looked upwards, as though in adoration of this golden god. “Except such trifles as health and happiness,” commented Benita, not without sarcasm, for this man and his material desires disgusted her somewhat, especially when she contrasted him with another man who was lost to her, though it was true that _his_ past had been idle and unproductive enough. Yet they interested her also, for Benita had never met anyone like Mr. Meyer, so talented, so eager, and so soulless. “Then I understand it is settled?” she said. Mr. Clifford hesitated, but Meyer answered at once: “Yes, settled as far as anything can be.” She waited a moment for her father to speak, but he said nothing; his chance had gone by. “Very well. Now we shall not need to trouble ourselves with further doubts or argument. We are going to Bambatse on the Zambesi, a distant place, to look for buried gold, and I hope, Mr. Meyer, that if you find it, the results will come up to your expectations, and bring you all sorts of good luck. Good-night, father dear, good-night.”