ober!

"On our homeward way your father was ill and our bearers deserted us. We
were pursued by the natives, who repented their concession, and I had
to fight them more than once, half a dozen strong, with your father
unconscious at my feet. It is true that I left him in the bush, but it
was at his bidding and I believed him dying. It was my only chance and
I took it. I escaped and reached Attra. Then, to raise money to reach
England, I had to borrow from a man named Da Souza, and afterwards,
in London, to start the Company, I had to make him my partner in the
profits of the concession. One day I quarrelled with him--it was just
at the time I met you--and then, for the first time, I heard of your
father's being alive. I went out to Africa to bring him back and Da
Souza followed me in abject fear, for as my partner he lost half if your
father's claim was good. I found your father infirm and only half sane.
I did all I could for him whilst I worked in the interior, and meant
to bring him back to England with me when I came, unfortunately he
recovered a little and suddenly seized upon the idea of visiting
England. He left before me and fell into the hands of Da Souza, who
had the best possible reasons in the world for keeping him in the
background. I rescued him from them in time to save him from death and
brought him to my own house, sent for doctors and nurses, and, when
he was fit for you to see, I should have sent for you. I did not, I'll
admit, make any public declaration of his existence, for the simple
reason that it would have crippled our Company, and there are the
interests of the shareholders to be considered, but I executed and
signed a deed of partnership days ago which makes him an equal sharer in
every penny I possess. Now this is the truth, Miss Wendermott, and if
it is not a story I am particularly proud of, I don't very well see what
else I could have done. It is my story and it is a true one. Will you
believe it or will you take his word against mine?"

She would have spoken, but Francis held up his hand.

"My story," he said coolly, "has been told behind your back. It is only
fair to repeat it to your face. I have told Miss Wendermott this--that I
met you first in the village of Bekwando with a concession in your hand
made out to you and her father jointly, with the curious proviso that in
the event of the death of one the other was his heir. I pointed out to
Miss Wendermott that you were in the prime