ng from them."

"Africa is wonderful," sighed April, and suddenly the weight of her
burden returned.

"Africa's all right, if it weren't for the people in it," he retorted
moodily.

The hotel proved to be a picturesque building perched on rising ground
above lovely gardens. Some of its countless windows looked over the
town to the sea; but most of them seemed to be peered into by the
relentless granite eyes of the mountain. April's first act was to draw
the blinds of her room.

"That mountain will sit upon my heart and crush me into my grave if I
stay here long," she thought, and felt despairing. Bellew had engaged
rooms for her, boldly inscribing the name of "Lady Diana Vernilands" in
the big ledger, while she stood by, acquiescing in, if not contributing
to the lie. Afterwards he went away to superintend the unloading of
his luggage. It appeared that his three immense trunks contained much
valuable glass and china for the Governor's wife, and he was taking no
risks concerning their safety.

Although making only a short stay, and in spite of the glum looks of
the porters, he had everything carried carefully up to his room on the
fourth floor. Glum looks were wasted on the bland Bellew, who lived by
the motto "_Je m'en fiche de tout le monde_," and who on his own
confession would have liked Africa to himself.

No word concerning the tragedy had yet passed between him and April,
but she knew that something was impending, and that she would probably
do as he told her, for he seemed in the strange circumstances to occupy
the position of sole executor to Diana's will. On going down to lunch
she found that he had engaged a small table for them both, but was not
there himself. What pleased her less was that as regards company she
might just as well have been back on board the _Clarendon Castle_.
Almost every one of her fellow-passengers was scattered around the
multiplicity of small tables. It would seem as if the "Mount Nelson"
was the only hotel in the town, although she remembered quite a number
of others in the Directory. Even Vereker Sarle was there. Far down
the long room she saw him sitting with two other men: one of them, Dick
Nichols, looking very much at home; the other a distinguished,
saturnine man with an English air to him, in spite of being burnt as
black as the ace of spades. She was aware that Sarle saw her, and had
a trembling fear that he might join her. It was almost a relief when
Bell