"'Yours is a very remarkable story, Mr. Lees; one of the most romantic I have ever heard,' he exclaimed, earnestly. 'It is all the more strange, as we've been looking for years for a man bearing somewhat the description of your Captain Ivory. I am surprised that the commander of the _Thunderbolt_ did not spot him at Ichaboe. But I rather imagine that that officer's knowledge of the judicial affairs of St. Helena does not go back fifteen years, otherwise he would have been sure to recollect the circumstances attending the capture of one of our schooners on June 28th, 1830. The commander of the vessel in question, Captain Harrison, a certain Dr. Waddell, and several of the crew were entrapped on board a ship called the _Daspegado_, flying French colours, and murdered. It has always been understood that the name of the captain of the pirate was Williams, but your description of Jasper Ivory tallies so exactly with his, that I have no doubt whatever that they are one and the same man. I shall, of course, have to institute an inquiry into this affair, and above all order the immediate arrest of this Mme. Valadon, or whatever she calls herself. Meanwhile, Mr. Lees, you will have to hold yourself at the disposal of the authorities. Manslaughter, you know, is a serious thing--even though the man you have killed is a pirate. And now, seeing that this matter is finished for the present, I hope you will do me the honour of dining with me this evening. I will call for you at six o'clock at the Rose and Crown and take you with me to Plantation House.' [Illustration: "HE GAVE ONE WILD AND PIERCING CRY OF TERROR WHEN HE DROPPED DOWN, DOWN, DOWN INTO THE DARKNESS."] "The pistol and lantern of Captain Jasper Ivory, _alias_ Williams, _alias_ MacDonald, _alias_ Valadon, were found where they had fallen. But his body was never recovered from the 'Devil's Punch Bowl,' as the rocky and precipitous region where we had wrestled was--and is still--called. Was he killed on the spot, or did he escape miraculously? I cannot tell you. All I know is this: not a trace of either him or his precious mother could be discovered. Years afterwards, however, when I had returned to England and was enjoying the fruits of my hard eight months' work at that horrible island of Ichaboe, I heard that she was living at Havre, where she kept a lodging-house and, it was said, continued to carry on at least one branch of her son's profession--that of smuggling--in collaboration with Daniel White, one-time steward of the good ship _Elora_." [Illustration: COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE IN SAVAGE AFRICA. +By the Rev. H. Cole+.] An entertaining article, by a missionary who has spent over twenty years in the interior, dealing with the extraordinary customs governing "the love of a man for a maid" in the Dark Continent.