and we'll note it all down in our diaries!"

We all stood up, the collector obviously uncomfortable and we, if not
at ease, at least happier than we had been.

Fred nodded to the collector genially, and we all walked out.

Mombasa is a fairly large island, but the built-over part of it is
small, so it was not surprising that we should emerge from the office
face to face with Lady Saffren Waldon. She was the one surprised, not
we. She probably thought she had spiked our guns in that part of the
world forever, and the sight of us coming laughing from the very office
where we should have been made glum must have been disconcerting.

She was riding on one of the little trolley-cars, pushed by two boys in
white official uniform, dressed in her flimsiest best, a lace parasol
across her knee, and beside her an obvious member of the
government--young, and so recently from home as not to have lost his
pink cheeks yet.

Had there not been an awning over the trolley-car she might have used
the parasol to make believe she had not seen us. But the awning
precluded that, and we were not more than two or three yards away.

"Laugh!" whispered Fred.

So we crossed the track laughing and the trolley had to pause to let us
by. We laughed as we raised our helmets to her--laughed both at her
and at the pink and white puppy she had taken in leash. And then the
sort of thing happened that nearly always does when men with a