nt
opportunity arising, sailed thence for England. I received an
affectionate letter from them both, which I still treasure,
thanking me very much for all I had done for them, that after all
was little enough. Also Anscombe enclosed a blank cheque,
begging me to fill it in for whatever sum I considered he was
indebted to me on the balance of account. I thought this very
kind of him and a great mark of confidence, but the cheque
remained blank.

I never saw either of them again, and though I believe that they
are both living, for the most part abroad--in Hungary I think--I
do not suppose that I ever shall. When I came to England some
years later after King Solomon's mines had made me rich, I wrote
Anscombe a letter. He never answered it, which hurt me at the
time. Afterwards I remembered that in their fine position it was
very natural that they should not wish to renew acquaintance with
an individual who had so intimate a knowledge of certain
incidents that they probably regarded as hateful, such as the
deaths of Marnham and Dr. Rodd, and all the surrounding
circumstances. If so, I daresay that they were wise, but of
course it may have been only carelessness. It is so easy for
busy and fashionable folk not to answer a rather troublesome
letter, or to forget to put that answer in the post. Or, indeed,
the letter may never have reached them--such things often go
astray, especially when people live abroad. At any rate, perhaps
through my own fault, we have drifted apart. I daresay they
believe that I am dead, or not to be found somewhere in Africa.
However, I always think of them with affection, for Anscombe was
one of the best travelling companions I ever had, and his wife a
most charming girl, and wonder whether Zikali's prophecy about
their children will come true. Good luck go with them!

As it chances, since then I passed the place where the Temple
stood, though at a little distance. I had the curiosity,
however, at some inconvenience, to ride round and examine the
spot. I suppose that Heda had sold the property, for a back-veld
Boer, who was absent at the time, had turned what used to be
Rodd's hospital into his house. Close by, grim and gaunt, stood
the burnt-out marble walls of the Temple. The verandah was still
roofed over, and standing on the spot whence I had shot the
pistol out of Rodd's hand, I was filled with many memories.

I could trace the whole plan of the building and visited that
p