“I think,” replied Jack, “that our speculation hardly comes under the category of commerce. It was not money that was at risk, but our own lives.” Sir John's eyes hardened. “Adventure,” he suggested rather indistinctly, “travel and adventure. There is a class of men one meets frequently who do a little exploring and a great deal of talking. Faute de mieux, they do not hesitate to interest one in the special pill to which they resort when indisposed, and they are not above advertising a soap. You are not going to write a book, I trust?” “No. It would hardly serve our purpose to write a book.” “In what way?” inquired Sir John. “Our purpose is to conceal the whereabouts of the Simiacine Plateau.” “But you are not going back there?” exclaimed Sir John unguardedly. “We certainly do not intend to abandon it.” Sir John leant forward again with his two hands open on his knees, thinking deeply. “A married man,” he said, “could hardly reconcile it with his conscience to undertake such a perilous expedition.” “No,” replied Jack, with quiet significance. Sir John gave a forced laugh. “I see,” he said, “that you have outwitted me. If I do not give my consent to your marriage without further delay, you will go back to Africa.” Jack bowed his head gravely. There was a long silence, while the two men sat side by side, gazing into the fire. “I cannot afford to do that,” said the father at length; “I am getting too old to indulge in the luxury of pride. I will attend your marriage. I will smile and say pretty things to the bridesmaids. Before the world I will consent under the condition that the ceremony does not take place before two months from this date.” “I agree to that,” put in Jack. Sir John rose and stood on the hearthrug, looking down from his great height upon his son. “But,” he continued, “between us let it be understood that I move in no degree from my original position. I object to Millicent Chyne as your wife. But I bow to the force of circumstances. I admit that you have a perfect right to marry whom you choose--in two months time.” So Jack took his leave. “In two months' time,” repeated Sir John, when he was alone, with one of his twisted, cynic smiles, “in two months time--qui vivra verra.” CHAPTER XXXVII. FOUL PLAY Oh, fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works! For one or two days after the public announcement of her engagement, Millicent was not quite free from care. She rather dreaded the posts. It was not that she feared one letter in particular, but the postman's disquietingly urgent rap caused her a vague uneasiness many times a day. Sir John's reply to her appealing little letter came short and sharp. She showed it to no one.