of him since. I don't
think it is even known where he is. A few of us knew that he came out
to South Africa, and journeyed to Rhodesia with one of the pioneer
columns, but that is quite sixteen years ago, and events at home move
quickly, and his utter silence lost him the warm places he might have
held in most hearts, or, at any rate, left them in abeyance. I only
came out to Rhodesia a few months ago, and I have been much on the
veldt, studying ancient relics; but I have kept my ears open. I heard
of the man you are speaking of at the police camp at Zimbabwe, but the
young trooper, Mr. Stanley, was not communicative. With a very
praiseworthy _esprit de corps_, he declined to be drawn into any
discussion whatever concerning his officer. I heard after I left that
he, Major Carew, was a very reserved, taciturn man, but it was
generally credited he had once held a captaincy in the Blues; that and
a personal description persuaded me he was my old friend's son."

"Yes," Ailsa said, "there can be no doubt about it. I suppose you knew
that he was going to be married just before he came away, and
something rather dreadful happened?"

"Ah; he has revealed that much, has he?" in some surprise.

"Not to me; to a great friend of mine."

"I see."

He seemed perplexed, uncertain evidently, how much to tell her. Ailsa
understood, and was a little at a loss how to act herself.

"I should not have mentioned the fact to anyone else," she said, "as
he evidently wishes to keep all personal matters entirely to himself;
but, of course, you were very likely to know it. I also learnt from my
husband that he was the elder brother and originally his uncle's heir,
but something happened to cause Mr. Carew to change his mind."

Then Mr. Delcombe said thoughtfully, "I think there is no reason why I
should not tell you a little more about him. I have always felt
exceedingly sorry for his determined exile, and the isolation from all
his old friends and old delights. I know that he dearly loved Devon,
and one feels it is time now that he came back to try and pick up the
threads. You and your husband appear to be his only friends, and as a
distant connection you might be able to approach him upon a subject
where a stranger, or shall we say a forgotten friend, would be
diffident." He paused, then added, "I wonder if he has the remotest
idea that, owing to several deaths, he is now the next heir to the
Marquis of Toxeter?"

A sudden joy seemed