ve I the honour of addressin' the Secretary of State for War?"

"No," answered the other in surprise. "What made you think that?"

"Because," said Bones, with rising wrath, "he's the only fellow that
needn't say 'please' to me."

The man roared with laughter. "Sorry," he said. "_Please_ show me the
way."

"Follow me, sir," said Bones.

Sanders was not "in residence," being, in fact, inspecting some
recent--and native--repairs to the boilers of the _Zaire_.

The stranger drew up a chair on the stoep without invitation and seated
himself. He looked around. Patricia Hamilton was at the far end of the
stoep, reading a book. She had glanced up just long enough to note and
wonder at the new arrival. "Deuced pretty girl that," said the stranger,
lighting a cigar.

"I beg your pardon?" said Bones.

"I say that is a deuced pretty girl," said the stranger.

"And you're a deuced brute, dear sir," said Bones, "but hitherto I have
not commented on the fact."

The man looked up quickly. "What are you here," he asked--"a clerk or
something?"

Bones did not so much as flush. "Oh, no," he said sweetly. "I am an
officer of Houssas--rank, lieutenant. My task is to tame the uncivilized
beast an' entertain the civilized pig with a selection of music. Would
you like to hear our gramophone?"

The new-comer frowned. What brilliant effort of persiflage was to follow
will never be known, for at that moment came Sanders.

The stranger rose and produced a pocket-book, from which he extracted a
card and a letter. "Good morning, Commissioner!" he said. "My name's
Corklan--P. T. Corklan, of Corklan, Besset and Lyons."

"Indeed," said Sanders.

"I've got a letter for you," said the man.

Sanders took the note, opened it, and read. It bore the neat signature
of an Under-Secretary of State and the embossed heading of the
Extra-Territorial Office, and it commended Mr. P. T. Corklan to Mr.
Commissioner Sanders, and requested him to let Mr. Corklan pass without
let or hindrance through the Territories, and to render him every
assistance "compatible with exigencies of the Service" in his "inquiries
into sugar production from the sweet potato."

"You should have taken this to the Administrator," said Sanders, "and it
should bear his signature."

"There's the letter," said the man shortly. "If that's not enough, and
the signature of the Secretary of State isn't sufficient, I'm going
straight back to England and tell him so."

"You may