But he waited in
vain, and Durnovo stood, cigar in mouth, in the dining-room until
Guy Oscard came to him.
At first Oscard did not recognise him, and conveyed this fact by a
distant bow and an expectant silence.
"You do not seem to recognise me," said Durnovo with a laugh, which
lasted until the servant had closed the door. "Victor Durnovo!"
"Oh--yes--how are you?"
Oscard came forward and shook hands. His manner was not exactly
effusive. The truth was that their acquaintanceship in Africa had
been of the slightest, dating from some trivial services which
Durnovo had been able and very eager to render to the sportsman.
"I'm all right, thanks," replied Durnovo. "I only landed at
Liverpool yesterday. I'm home on business. I'm buying rifles and
stores."
Guy Oscard's honest face lighted up at once--the curse of Ishmael
was on him in its full force. He was destined to be a wanderer on
God's earth, and all things appertaining to the wild life of the
forests were music in his ears.
Durnovo was no mean diplomatist. He had learnt to know man, within
a white or coloured skin. The effect of his words was patent to
him.
"You remember the Simiacine?" he said abruptly.
"Yes."
"I've found it."
"The devil you have! Sit down."
Durnovo took the chair indicated.
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