He was only amused, and the words were spoken half-mockingly; but his face said more than his lips. It said that even in chaff this was no vain boast that he was uttering. Even before he had set foot on African soil he had been asked to keep so many secrets of a commercial nature. So many had begun by imparting half a secret, to pass on in due course to the statement that only money was required, say, a thousand pounds. And, in the meantime, twenty-five would be very useful, and, if not that, well, ten shillings. Jack Meredith had met all that before. But there was something different about Durnovo. He was not suitably got up. Your bar-room prospective millionaire is usually a jolly fellow, quite prepared to quench any man's thirst for liquor or information so long as credit and credulity will last. There was nothing jolly or sanguine about Durnovo. Beneath his broad-brimmed hat his dark eyes flashed in a fierce excitement. His hand was unsteady. He had allowed the excellent cigar to go out. The man was full of quinine and fever, in deadly earnest. “I can see you're a gentleman,” he said; “I'll trust you. I want a man to join me in making a fortune. I have got my hand on it at last. But I'm afraid of this country. I'm getting shaky; look at that hand. I've been looking for it too long. I take you into my confidence, the first comer, you'll think. But there are not many men like you in this country, and I'm beastly afraid of dying. I'm in a damned funk. I want to get out of this for a bit, but I dare not leave until I set things going.” “Take your time,” said Meredith, quietly and soothingly; “light that cigar again and lie down. There is no hurry.” Durnovo obeyed him meekly. “Tell me,” he said, “have you ever heard of Simiacine?” “I cannot say that I have,” replied Jack. “What is it for, brown boots or spasms?” “It is a drug, the most expensive drug in the market. And they must have it, they cannot do without it, and they cannot find a substitute. It is the leaf of a shrub, and your hatful is worth a thousand pounds.” “Where is it to be found?” asked Jack Meredith. “I should like some--in a sack.”