ur later the two men rode out together, and
passed an exceedingly pleasant and convivial evening. Wherein Warren
was a paradox. He had a real liking for the other, and would have done
anything in the world to do him a good turn, under all other
circumstances. Here, however, Wyvern must be sacrificed, for mere
friendship was but a featherweight beside Warren's overmastering but as
yet secret passion for Lalante Le Sage, and have we not said that the
sum of Warren's _credo_ was Number 1!

And of the two portraits, one in Warren's office, the other in his home,
Wyvern, of course, knew nothing.

CHAPTER TEN.

IN THE THIRD KLOOF.

Wyvern was sitting out on the stoep smoking his first after supper pipe.

The night was still fairly warm, though just a touch of a sharp twinge
showed that it was one of those nights whereon it might not be good to
sit still in the open--let alone doze in one's chair--too long. A broad
moon, not yet at full, hung in the cloudlessness of the star-gemmed
firmament, and he sat listening to the voices of night--the shrill bay
of hunting jackals, the ghostly whistle of invisible plover overhead,
the boom of belated beetles, the piping screech of tree-frogs, and every
now and again an unrestful bark from the dogs lying on the moonlit sward
in front. Yet, listening, he heard them not, for his mind was active in
other directions. For instance, it was just such a night as this,
nearly a month ago, that Lalante had been sitting here with him,
nestling to his side, and the sweet witching hour of enchantment had
gone by in happy converse. Yet, since, what transition had taken place.
A few stolen meetings, more or less hurried, were all the comfort his
weary soul could obtain, and now in a day or two, he would be going
forth from here homeless--homeless from this home he loved so well, and,
of late, tenfold, in that she was to share it with him.

Then despondency grew apace. His new venture--what was likely to come
out of that? Was it indeed as Le Sage had said--that he had not got it
in him to do any good for himself? But as though to brace him, came the
recollection of this girl, and her sweet presence here, here on the very
spot where he now was; this girl, so totally outside his previous
experience, so totally unlike anyone he had ever seen before, in her
sunny winsomeness, in her brave clear hope, and unconventional decision
of character, and, far above all, the unreserved richness of