here was something in his manner which reminded her vaguely of a
gentleman. It was not that he was exactly gentlemanly, but there was the
reflection of good breeding in his bearing. Dark-skinned people, be it
noted, have usually the imitative faculty. As the dinner and the wine
warmed his heart, so by degrees he drew on his old self like a glove. He
grew bolder and less guarded. His opinion of himself rose momentarily,
and with it a certain gleam in his eyes increased as they rested on
Jocelyn.

It was not long before she noted this, and quite suddenly her ancient
dislike of the man was up in arms with a new intensity gathered she knew
not whence.

"And," said Maurice, when Jocelyn had left them, "I suppose you'll be a
millionaire in about six months?"

He gently pushed the wine towards him at the same time. Durnovo had
not slept for forty hours. The excitement of his escape from the
plague-ridden camp had scarcely subsided. The glitter of the silver on
the table, the shaded candles, the subtle sensuality of refinement and
daintiness appealed to his hot-blooded nature. He was a little off his
feet perhaps. He took the decanter and put it to the worst use he could
have selected.

"Not so soon as that," he said; "but in time--in time."

"Lucky beggar!" muttered Maurice Gordon, with a little sigh.

"I don't mind telling you," said Durnovo, with a sudden confidence
begotten of Madeira, "that it's Simiacine--that's what it is. I can't
tell you more."

"Simiacine," repeated Gordon, fingering the stem of his wine-glass and
looking at him keenly between the candle-shades. "Yes. You've always
been on its track, haven't you?"

"In six months your go-downs will be full of it--my Simiacine, my
Simiacine."

"By God, I wish I had a hand in it."

Maurice Gordon pushed the decanter again--gently, almost
surreptitiously.

"And so you may, some day. You help me and I'll help you--that is my
ticket. Reciprocity--reciprocity, my dear Maurice."

"Yes, but how?"

"Can't tell you now, but I will in good time--in my own time. Come,
let's join the ladies--eh? haha!"

But at this moment the servant brought in coffee, saying in his master's
ear that Miss Jocelyn had gone to bed with a slight headache.

CHAPTER XV. A CONFIDENCE

The spirits
Of coming things stride on before their issues.

There is nothing that brings men so close to each other as a common
grievance or a com