In the meantime the precious drug will grow scarcer day by day, and the human race will be poorer by the loss of one of those half-matured discoveries which have more than once in the world's history been on the point of raising the animal called man to a higher, stronger, finer development of brain and muscle than we can conceive of under existing circumstances. Who can tell? Perhaps the strange solitary bush may be found growing elsewhere--in some other continent across the ocean. The ways of Nature are past comprehension, and no man can say who sows the seed that crops up in strange places. The wind bloweth where it listeth, and none can tell what germs it bears. It seems hardly credible that the Plateau, no bigger than a cricket field, far away in the waste land of Central Africa, can be the only spot on this planet where the magic leaf grows in sufficient profusion to supply suffering humanity with an alleviating drug, unrivalled--a strength-giving herb, unapproached in power. But as yet no other Simiacine has been found and the Plateau is lost. And the end of it was two men who had gone to look for it two years before--young and hearty--returning from the search successful beyond their highest hopes, with a shadow in their eyes and grey upon their heads. They sat for nearly two hours in that room in the quiet house in Russell Square, where the cabs do not pass; and their conversation was of money. They sat until they had closed the Simiacine account, never to be reopened. They discussed the question of renouncement, and, after due consideration, concluded that the gain was rightly theirs seeing that the risk had all been theirs. Slaves and slave-owner had both taken their cause to a Higher Court, where the defendant has no worry and the plaintiff is at rest. They were beyond the reach of money--beyond the glitter of gold--far from the cry of anguish. A fortune was set aside for Marie Durnovo, to be held in trust for the children of the man who had found the Simiacine Plateau; another was apportioned to Joseph. “Seventy-seven thousand one hundred and four pounds for you,” said Jack Meredith at length, laying aside his pen, “seventy-seven thousand one hundred and four pounds for me.” “And,” he added, after a little pause, “it was not worth it.” Guy Oscard smoked his pipe and shook his head. “Now,” said Jack Meredith, “I must go. I must be out of London by to-morrow morning. I shall go abroad--America or somewhere.” He rose as he spoke, and Oscard made no attempt to restrain him. They went out into the passage together. Oscard opened the door and followed his companion to the step. “I suppose,” said Meredith, “we shall meet some time--somewhere?” “Yes.” They shook hands. Jack Meredith went down the steps almost reluctantly. At the foot of the short flight he turned and looked up at the strong, peaceful form of his friend. “What will you do?” he said.