he elemental broth, dregs, scum, skimmings, residue,
by-products, tailings, smoking corruption above the slowly forming and
incorruptible matrix in its depths where lies imbedded, and ever
growing, the Immam, the Hope of the World--gem indestructible, pearl
beyond price. Difficilia quae pulchra.

And once, Clive had almost set out for home; and then, grimly, turned
away toward the southern continent of the hemisphere.

In Lima he heard of an expedition fitting out to search for the lost
Americans, Cromer and Page, and for the Hungarian Seljan. And that
same evening he met Captain Dane.

They looked at each other very carefully, and then shook hands. Clive
said: "If you want a handy man in camp, I'd like to go."

"Come on," said Dane, briefly.

Later, looking over together some maps in Dane's rooms, the big blond
soldier of fortune glanced up at the younger man, and saw a lean,
bronzed visage clamped mute by a lean bronzed jaw; but he also saw two
dark eyes fixed on him in the fierce silence of unuttered inquiry.
After a moment Dane said very quietly:

"Yes, she was well, and I think happy, when I left New York.... How
long is it since you have heard from her?"

"Three years."

"Three years," mused Dane, gazing into space out of his slitted eyes
of arctic blue; "yes, that's some little time. Bailey.... She is
well--I think I said that.... And very prosperous, and greatly admired
... and happy--I believe."

The other waited.

Dane picked up a linen map, looked at it, fiddled with the corner.
Then, carelessly: "She is not married," he said.... "Here's the
Huallaga River as I located it four years ago. Seljan and O'Higgins
were making for it, I believe.... That red crayon circle over there
marks the habitat of the Uta fly. It's worse than the Tsetse. If
anybody is hunting death--_esta aqui_!... Here is the Putumayo
district. Hell lies up here, just above it.... Here's Iquitos, and
here lies Para, three thousand miles away.... Were you going to say
something?"

But if Clive had anything to say he seemed to find no words to say it.
And he only folded his arms on the table's edge and looked down at the
stained and crumpled map.

"It will take us about a year," remarked Dane.

Clive nodded, but his eye involuntarily sought the irregular red
circle where trouble of all sorts might be conveniently ended by a
perfectly respectable Act of God.

* * * * *

Actus Dei nemini facit in