of brown books spread on the table before them. "And since there are but three copies in the world," said Paul Rochelaurier with all deference" one in America, one in St Petersburg, if it is yet there, and one here, as I was told at the Louvre-monsieur, I am sure, will pardon the intrusion? "It is an honour, monsieur, to be of any assistance to one so distinguished. Your work, with which I am well acquainted, forbids apology." The young man smiled. "But it is nothing-a pleasure if one has an interest; is it not so I have been, perhaps, unusually fortunate. I have had opportunities." Gelvest le Bonniec sighed. "And you are so young. Pardon me - it is most unusual Like a mask of bright steel was the face of the Vicomte d'Aubrac; flashing as a sword the edged speech. "One has no patience with those who waste life so well! So few years-so much man has not yet accomplished! Life is not a toy. One must make some use of it." Three hours later there was an increasing pile of books on the library table. Shaggy white head, smooth dark head, were close together, a huge volume opened before them, while the hand of Gelvest le Bonniec followed the quaintly printed lines on the yellowed page. said Gelvest le Bonniec to Genovéfa afterwards. "He is the kind of young man-but we shall see more of him. He is one whom it should be a pleasure for you to know." This was the reason why Genovéfa, hesitating a little, finally confessed herself to Father Mathieu, the priest. "It was a sin," she said, "and I dared not tell my father. I dare not tell him now when he has come to love Paul as I do, and is well content that we love each other. So I must tell you." Father Mathieu considered this problem thoughtfully. 66 'It "It was not well done," he said gravely when he had thought enough about it. was the act of a pagan. Ah, well-be content that no harm has come of it. There are mysteries, my child, beyond weak human understanding, but nothing happens beyond the knowledge of God. Long ago, because my people are so stubborn, I took the precaution to cut a cross on that stone. Sometimes I am not guided to see exactly the right or wrong of a thing. So we shall leave it. But you should tell your father." "I shall tell him to-night," said Genovéfa seriously. "There need not be such haste." The priest smiled. "One may sometimes be worldly. It will be time enough, no doubt, when mademoiselle has become the Vicomtesse "A worthy young man,". d'Aubrac." BUSH GIPSIES. BY FUNDI, IV. THE TWISTER. throughout the FORTY years of adventuring, competitor of slow uphill struggles and length and breadth of the lightning reverses; forty years country. As a "twister" his of cunning dealings and shady supremacy had never been chalcompanionships, of alternating lenged, and once, but this was riches and poverty; forty years many years before, he had of hard living and harder drink- been universally acclaimed as ing, of sickness, starvation, and the champion beer-drinker of all the multifarious tribula- the East Coast, an honour, be tions of Africa; forty years of it understood, given to but life, packed down hard and very few mortals to attain. brimming over, had gone to His hand was in everything, produce this human scarecrow, sometimes visibly, but mostly this bag of bones whose attenu- not. If a new railway was to ated frame was exaggerated be built, Jan Naarden was the rather than hidden by the first man on the spot. If a new loose khaki clothes that flapped country was to be exploited, and wrapped about his spindle Jan was among, if not ahead shanks. A few wisps of grey of, the first party of pioneers. hair straggled mournfully across If a native rising seemed imhis bald head, merely heighten- minent, Jan Naarden was the ing the impression of age al- one man to stop it (at a suitready created by the shuffling able remuneration). If you steps, the rounded shoulders, wanted a steam-roller, you went and the twitching lower lip. to Jan Naarden who would A thin, grey, mandarin-like surely be able to produce one. moustache hung suspended be- If you wanted to buy a farm, neath the highly arched nostrils, a plantation, a ton of cotton, and served to hide in places the a quarry, a steamer, a soap false teeth that fitted so ill in works, or a packet of pins, the sagging mouth. For the Jan Naarden could, and would, rest-redness was the keynote. supply you-but on his own Red face, curiously red eyes, terms, for Jan did business on full red lips, and long, thin, no other. red hands. Such was Jan Naarden at the age of sixtyone, and having, perhaps, already passed the zenith of his variegated career. As a liar he had no known It was only when you came to know the man personally that you understood the enigma of his popularity; for of all the men in those parts, Jan, as he was known to every one, was by far the most popular. The folk he had worsted most had the best name for him and even those he had robbed with the most barefaced audacity, still rose and called him blessed. At first glance the thing was ridiculous, infantile, and new-comers marvelled why the man was even tolerated until they, too, came under the influence of his extraordinary charm. Jan Naarden possessed an inexhaustible fund of humour, a pretty wit, and a pleasant turn of conversation. He would mulct you like a pickpocket in the morning and entertain you like a prince in the evening, and both with the utmost sangfroid. You couldn't help but like the man, despite some of his disreputable habits, and he filched from every one who knew him a curious kind of grudging admiration. From time to time he was reported as being financially on the rocks, and, conversely, as being remarkably wealthy. In any case, though he never paid a bill, his credit invariably remained at the same point— 'no limit." 66 It was in the dry season of 19 that I first met Jan Naarden. He was at that time prospecting for oil along the northern shore of the Zambesi River, towards Tete, and if he were doing nothing else was certainly netting a good salary from an optimistic company at home. It was fairly late in the afternoon when I struck his camp, and in the nature of things, decided to stay the night there. If I had been surprised at the comfort of his camp, I was literally staggered at the multiplicity of drinks that covered his sidetable. The man was a walking brewery! I don't think I saw Imperial Tokay there, but I do think it was the only absentee. "I like to feel," said he when I expressed my wonderment-"I like to feel that whatever I happen to fancy I can have." "A choice creed-when it's practicable," I agreed. "I make it practicable," he replied, as he mixed a couple of gin and Italians. "It has stood me in good stead on more occasions than I care to remember. Cheer-o!" "Here's luck!" said I. "But it's an expensive kind of bulwark, apart from the transport," I added, as I put down my glass. "It pays-it pays you every time. Why, I made two thousand over a little deal on the very ground you've just come from." Oh?" I asked. It was a good many years ago in the days before they started this coal idea across Tete way. There was a general impression that gold existed in pretty large quantities in the hills there, and I drifted up to see what was doing. There was only one place, however, that showed a colour, and that, or at any rate the best part of it, belonged to a fellow-I forget his name for the moment --but anyhow he was a young Scotsman. I made him a sporting offer for his claim, Next day I sallied forth to my new land, turned the Scottie adrift, and set to examine the reef. To my surprise there was no reef, as such. A few odds and ends, you know, but nothing else, so I gathered a few choice samples and drifted back to B- The initial propaganda work was soon started, and before a week was out I had sold my claim for just over two thousand." "His claim was only a claim by virtue of his possession of it. There was no mining law in those days, you know, so off I went to the nearest Portuguese Boma and applied to buy that particular piece of ground. I thought the Portuguese smelt a rat when he wouldn't sell, and insisted upon seeing the ground first, but anyway I agreed to take him back with me. And that is where I scored. By the time he had been carried to the spot in his machila, he was prepared to sell me either that particular claim or the whole of Africa, providing the 'blue velvet' continued to flow." I smiled, doubtfully, as we "The blue velvet'?" I rose to move to the dinnerasked. 66 "Champagne and Guinness," he explained. The stuff they breed lions on. A few of those, my lad, and there is no doubt in your mind as to who you are. Hercules becomes a mere weed in comparison! Anyway, the Portuguese sold me the land, and next day I had the body carried back to his house for I might mention that he was showing distinct signs of wear! The lion-feeling had worn off, and I remember he wept bitterly as he parted from me. He was under the delusion that he was an operatic star, and as the grinning boys carried him out of my camp he was giving an impassioned rendering of O sole mio'-in the intervals of communing with a 66 And you say there was no gold there?" I interrupted. "I didn't," said he sharply. "I say there was gold there if you could find it. Who am I to reject the gifts of a kindly Providence?" he added sanctimoniously. table, where it was at once apparent that in addition to his cellar furnishings Jan Naarden also took an interest in his larder. He entertained me to one of the very best bush dinners I have ever eaten, though the wine flowed far too copiously for my particular capacity. By the time sweets were served my host was rather It was all so quick that I was still gaping when when the table-boy entered again. With one swift movement he swept away the untouched savoury and then placed a large card in front of me. Leaning forward, I read "Excuse me. Carry on as you like. Back at ten." 66 Coffee, Bwana ? asked the table-boy in a perfectly solemn voice as he withdrew the card. N'dio, coffee," I managed to stutter, inwardly convulsed by this extraordinary procedure. And the next moment the boy produced a box of cigars. From then on I smoked and lounged about until a quarter to ten, when I again entered the dining-tent. For a while longer I sat in the doorway staring across the compound, until suddenly I heard the sound of footsteps coming from the direction of his tent. I turned to see Jan Naarden, dressed in a fresh suit, walking quite unconcernedly towards suppose, up Tete way?" he asked, as he sat down and was immediately served with a whisky-and-soda. "No," I told him, putting my hand over the top of my glass. The drink boy was far too indefatigable in his labours -to my mind. "I hear he has gone up that way again. You know him?" Of him," I corrected. Jan Naarden laughed reminiscently. He's a joy if ever there were one. He's got no sense of well, anything, that I can discover. He'd murder his mother for sixpence ! He did me a shot in the eye once," and a certain wistfulness rang through his voice. "Did you?" I asked incredulously, for Jan Naarden's character and business acumen were well known to me, by hearsay, long before I met him. He nodded as he watched the boy refilling his glass. For a moment he was silent, and then aged. "I suppose you know he is a Cheltenham boy?" "I've heard it said, though it sounds impossible." 66 I gasped. I had not been prepared for an academic discussion on moons. I looked curiously into his eyes as he came within the circle of light, "It's true enough," said Jan but beyond their ordinary Naarden decisively. Though bloodshot redness there was I shouldn't think they'd own nothing at all to indicate that him. It's strange how warped the man had so recently been a man can get-out here." hors-de-combat. I looked up quickly. "You didn't see Morton, I thought I observed a maudlin I |
