untinged by his own reluctance to
turn his back on the place until every effort to recover the precious
document had been tried. Should, however, the worst come to the worst,
and Renshaw be moved to assure himself of the safety of his secret, what
could be easier than to persuade him that he had himself insisted on
destroying it in his delirium?

He rose softly to hunt for a needle and some twine. Having found them
he re-stitched the pouch, carefully copying the mode of stitching which
had held it together before. Then he went over to the bedside to
re-fasten it to the sick man's neck.

This was no easy task. Poor Renshaw began to grow restless again, as
though a glimmer of inspiration across his clouded and enfeebled brain
warned him that his cherished secret had been tampered with. At last,
however, through the exercise of consummate patience and care, the thing
was done.

With a feeling of relief the stranger once more sought the outer air.

"What a fool the man must be!" he said to himself. "From the date of
that paper he must have been in possession of the clue for at least two
years, and yet he hasn't turned it to account. The place should be easy
to find, too; anyway, I'll lay a guinea I'd have ferreted it out long
before this. Rather! Long before!"

Thus he decided, overlooking the trifling probability that if Renshaw
Fanning, with lifelong experience as a hunter, treasure-seeker, and
adventurer in general, had failed to hit upon the mysterious locality,
it was hardly to be supposed that he, Maurice Sellon, new arrival in
South Africa, who, for instance, had been unable to travel across the
Karroo plains without losing himself, would fare any better.

But then an under-estimate--either habitual or occasional--of his own
merits or abilities did not rank among the failings of the said Maurice
Sellon.

CHAPTER FOUR.

SUNNINGDALE.

A wild, deep, romantic valley, winding between lofty bush-clad hills,
their summits broken into many a rugged cliff, which echoes back the
muffled roar of a mountain torrent foaming and hissing through its
pent-up rocky channel. A lovely valley as travelled in the morning
sunshine, melodious with the piping of birds from the cool shade of
tangled brake and sylvan recesses on either side. Overhead a sky of the
most brilliant blue; around a fresh, clear atmosphere, revivifying as
wine; for it is mountain air and the day is yet young.

At its head the valley open