or whatever it is that has proved superior so often to worldly wisdom
(temptation, Fred calls it!) outweighed reason, and Fred himself would
have been last to agree to forego the search.

The voyage is short between Zanzibar and Mombasa, but there was
incident. We were spied on after very thorough fashion, Lady Saffren
Waldon's title and gracious bearing (when that suited her) being
practical weapons. The purser was Goanese --beside himself with the
fumes of flattery. He had a pass-key, so the Syrian maid went through
our cabins and searched thoroughly everything except the wallet of
important papers that Monty kept under his shirt. The first and second
officers were rather young, unmarried men possessed of limitless
ignorance of the wiles of such as Lady Waldon. It was they who signed
a paper recommending Coutlass to the B. I. agents and a lot of other
reputable people in Mombasa and elsewhere, thus offsetting the
possibility that the authorities might not let him land. (Had we known
all that at the time, Monty's word against him might have caused him to
be shipped back whence he came, but we did not find it out until
afterward; nor did we know the law.)

And at Mombasa we made our first united, serious mistake. It was put
to the vote. We all agreed.

"I can come ashore," said Monty, "introduce you to officialdom, get you
put up for the club, and be useful generally. That, though, 'll lend
color to the theory that you're in league with me--whereas, if I leave
you to your own resources, that may help lose my scent. When they pick
it up again we'll be knowing better where we stand."

"If you came ashore for a few hours we'd have the benefit of your