ry dust, untempered glare. But the man
who dares it with steady eyes usually arrives first at the goal,
tempered metal ringing true, while he who dallies in the pleasant
byways may find his armour has grown rusty and his powers lax.

As he walked quietly back to the police camp Peter Carew looked
straight before him to the dim horizon, and in his eyes there was an
expression that few, if any, had ever been permitted to behold. For
the hidden sorrow that was his was his alone, and he had never sought
nor asked the sympathy of a fellow-creature. In the starlight he
looked back into the eyes of his dead love, and it was between him and
her only the sorrow might be shared. As he had loved her memory all
these years, he would love her still, though in the great loneliness
of his heart he might be drawn to that one other woman who so
strangely resembled her and so deeply attracted him.

But Meryl was not for him, the penniless policeman, and he knew it.

The hour spent together in the temple ruins had been too sweet, too
dangerously sweet, and therefore he would run no further risk. He
would not go with Mr. Pym, because that might forge a link of
friendship it would be difficult to break; and he would not remain at
the camp, because that might involve considerable intercourse if Meryl
and Diana stayed behind at the hill-side home alone. He would instead
retire to Segundi on the pretext of meeting the Resident Commissioner
expected there, and stay until the millionaire's party had departed
from Zimbabwe for good. It would be as well to start early, he could
easily manage it; and if he saw no prospect of saying good-bye to Mr.
Pym in person, he would write him a short note giving some sort of
explanation.

So it happened the next morning, before anyone at the hill-side camp
was dressed, a Black Watch boy presented a note to Mr. Pym's boy, and
a little distance off on the road Major Carew waited on his horse for
a message.

And in his tent, still in a sleeping-suit, Mr. Pym read the note, and
looked hard for a moment at the sunshine beyond the open flap, as if
seeking out there to read, not what was said in the little letter, but
what was _not_ said.

Then he stood up, slipped on some shoes, and went outside into the
fragrant morning air. Directly he saw Carew on his horse, he took the
little path through the scrub and rocks and went towards him. Carew
alighted, and came a short distance along the path.

Mr. Pym spoke f