t have that _Achraea Parchelli_ somehow. He _would_ follow to the
Eastern Province in November. It might be a trifle like poaching; but,
after all, the world is not a butterfly preserve for the one or two
lucky ones. It lies open to every entomologist. And the old man had
been so confoundedly close and secret. It would serve him right to
discover his sacred treasure and make plain his mystery.

After watching the weekly passenger list in _South Africa_ for some
time; Horace Maybold noted with interest that Professor Parchell had
sailed for Cape Town by a Donald Currie steamer in the first week of
October. That fact ascertained, he at once secured a berth in a deck
cabin of the _Norham Castle_ for the first week in November. The chase
had begun, and already Horace felt a keen and amusing sense of
adventure--adventure in little--springing within him.

After Madeira, when all had found their sea-legs, and the warm weather
and smooth ocean appeared, things became very pleasant. Horace was not
a man who quickly became intimate or much attached to people; but,
almost insensibly, upon this voyage he found himself developing a strong
friendship, almost an intimacy, with two ladies: one, Mrs Stacer, a
pleasant, comely, middle-aged woman, perhaps nearer fifty than forty;
the other, Miss Vanning, young, good-looking, and extremely attractive.
The two ladies, who were connected, if not relations, were travelling to
Port Elizabeth to stay with friends in that part of the colony--where,
exactly, was never quite made clear. Horace found them refined,
well-bred, charming women, having many things in common with him; and
the trio in a day or two's time got on swimmingly together.

By the time the line was reached, the vision of Rose Vanning, with her
fair, wavy brown hair, good grey eyes, fresh complexion, and open, yet
slightly restrained manner, was for ever before the mental ken of Horace
May bold. Here, indeed, he told himself, was the typical English girl
he had so often set before his mind; fresh, tallish, full of health,
alert, vigorous in mind and body, yet a thorough and a perfect woman.
On many a warm tropical evening, as they sat together on deck, while the
big ship drove her way through the oil-like ocean, sending shoals of
flying-fish scudding to right and left of her, the two chatted together,
and day by day their intimacy quickened. It was clear to Horace, and it
began, too, to dawn upon Mrs Stacer, that Rose