e bookmaker had introduced us all with a naivete that, I
am sure, amused the governor, as it certainly did his aide-de-camp. "We
should not need to fear the natives if we had soldiers as fearless," his
excellency continued.

At this point the inquiry began, and, after it was over, the governor
said that there the matter ended so far as we were concerned, and then
he remarked gallantly that the Government of Aden would always remain
Mrs. Falchion's debtor. She replied that it was a debt she would be
glad to preserve unsettled for ever. After this pretty exchange of
compliments, the governor smiled, and offered her his arm to the door,
where our 'char a bans' awaited us.

So impressed was the bookmaker with the hospitable reception the
governor had given us, that he offered him his cigar-case with its
contents, said he hoped they would meet again, and asked his excellency
if he thought of coming to Australia. The governor declined the cigars
graciously, ignored the hoped-for pleasure of another meeting, and
trusted that it might fall to his lot to visit Australia some day.
Thereupon the bookmaker insisted on the aide-de-camp accepting the
cigar-case, and gave him his visiting-card. The aide-de-camp lost
nothing by his good-humoured acceptance, if he smoked, because, as I
knew, the cigars were very good indeed. Bookmakers, gamblers and Jews
are good judges of tobacco. And the governor's party lost nothing in
dignity because, as the traps wheeled away, they gave a polite little
cheer for Mrs. Falchion. I, at first, was fearful how Belle Treherne
would regard the gaucheries of the bookmaker, but I saw that he was
rather an object of interest to her than otherwise; for he was certainly
amusing.

As we drove through Aden, a Somauli lad ran from the door of a house,
and handed up a letter to the driver of my trap. It bore my name, and
was handed over to me. I recognised the handwriting. It was that of Boyd
Madras. He had come ashore by Hungerford's aid in the night. The letter
simply gave an address in England that would always find him, and stated
that he intended to take another name.

CHAPTER IX. "THE PROGRESS OF THE SUNS"

News of the event had preceded us to the 'Fulvia', and, as we scrambled
out on the ship's stairs, cheers greeted us. Glancing up, I saw
Hungerford, among others, leaning over the side, and looking at Mrs.
Falchion in a curious cogitating fashion, not unusual to him. The look
was non-committal,