was to trace with his
finger a bee-line across the African continent and the Bay of Biscay
until he reached London.

More rarely Walker would stroll over to the Residency, but he soon
came to notice that Hatteras had a distinct preference for the factory
and for the factory verandah. The reason for the preference puzzled
Walker considerably. He drew a quite erroneous conclusion that
Hatteras was hiding at the Residency--well, some one whom it was
prudent, especially in an official, to conceal. He abandoned the
conclusion, however, when he discovered that his friend was in the
habit of making solitary expeditions. At times Hatteras would be
absent for a couple of days, at times for a week, and, so far as
Walker could ascertain, he never so much as took a servant with him
to keep him company. He would simply announce at night his intended
departure, and in the morning he would be gone. Nor on his return
did he ever offer to Walker any explanation of his journeys. On one
occasion, however, Walker broached the subject. Hatteras had come back
the night before, and he sat crouched up in a deck chair, looking
intently into the darkness of the forest.

"I say," asked Walker, "isn't it rather dangerous to go slumming about
West Africa alone?"

Hatteras did not reply for a moment. He seemed not to have heard the
suggestion, and when he did speak it was to ask a quite irrelevant
question.

"Have you ever seen the Horse Guards' Parade on a dark, rainy night?"
he asked; but he never moved his head, he never took his eyes from
the forest. "The wet level of ground looks just like a lagoon and the
arches a Venice palace above it."

"But look here, Dick!" said Walker, keeping to his subject. "You never
leave word when you are coming back. One never knows that you have
come back until you show yourself the morning after."

"I think," said Hatteras slowly, "that the finest sight in the world
is to be seen from the bridge in St. James's Park when there's a State
ball on at Buckingham Palace and the light from the windows reddens
the lake and the carriages glance about the Mall like fireflies."

"Even your servants don't know when you come back," said Walker.

"Oh," said Hatteras quietly, "so you have been asking questions of my
servants?"

"I had a good reason," replied Walker, "your safety," and with that
the conversation dropped.

Walker watched Hatteras. Hatteras watched the forest. A West African
mangrove forest at night