ess, they preserved as much as they could, in the hope that the
experts in such matters, at home, might be more successful than
themselves. But it may here be stated that the experts also failed; and
the name and nationality of the ship, as well as the identity of those
who perished in her at the murderous hands of the savage M'Bongwele,
remain a mystery to this day.

On the third day following Mildmay's adventure with the octopus, the
_Flying Fish_ being once more berthed on the beach near the spot where
the party had made their amazingly rich haul of rubies, all hands had
adjourned to the deck after dinner to enjoy the delicious coolness of a
breeze off the sea. Ida had gone to bed somewhat earlier than usual
that evening, complaining that she was not feeling very well, her
symptoms being a feverish pulse and a slightly increased temperature,
toward the alleviation of which the professor had administered a fairly
liberal dose of quinine.

Sir Reginald and Lady Olivia, naturally anxious in everything relating
to their only child's health, were discussing the matter with von
Schalckenberg, who was endeavouring, without his usual success, to
reassure the pair, who were of opinion that the African climate was to
blame for their daughter's indisposition.

"Well," at length said the professor, "if you really think so, nothing
in this world is easier than for us to change it. We can ascend into
the atmosphere to any height we please, thus obtaining any desired
temperature; we can, in a very _few_ hours, reach any other country that
you would care to visit; or, which is perhaps better than either, we can
go out to sea and leisurely cruise about in any required direction, and
in absolutely pure air."

"Hear, hear!" exclaimed Mildmay, who, although chatting with Mlle.
Feodorovna, had overheard the professor's words. "There is no
sanatorium like old ocean; no doctor like Father Neptune, believe me,
Elphinstone. A week's cruise somewhere away out there to the eastward
would set the little darling up far more effectively than all the
professor's drugs. Try it, man; it can do no harm; and I'll bet you a--
a--well, let us say a peck of rubies, that you'll not regret it."

"Well, while declining your modest little bet, Mildmay, I really feel
more than half inclined to act upon your suggestion," answered Sir
Reginald, with a laugh. "There is no particular reason why we should
not, I fancy, beyond the fact that the professo