"That's like you to say it," rejoined his friend. "See here, old man.
You've made a clean breast of it all. I should be no less candid. You
know now that I met her before--was all those weeks with her aboard
ship. Need I tell you that I, too, love her?"

"You?" growled Blake. "But of course! I don't blame you. You couldn't
help it."

"It's been an odd shuffling of the cards," remarked his friend. "What
if--Aren't you afraid there may be a new deal, Tom? If you don't come
aboard, she and I will be together at least as far as Zanzibar, and
probably all the way to Aden, before I can find some one else to take
her on to England."

"What of that?" rejoined Blake. "Think I don't know you're square,
after the months we roughed-it together?"

"Then--But I can't leave you here in this hell-hole! You've no right
to ask me to do that, Tom. If I could bring my guns ashore and stay
with you--But she'll never be more in need of some one, if you insist
upon your plan. I say! I have it--We'll slip you aboard after dark.
You can lie in covert till we reach Port Mozambique. I trust I'm
clever enough to keep her diverted that long. Can put it that you're
outfitting--all that, y' know."

"Say, that's not so bad," admitted Blake, half persuaded. "I could
slip ashore, soon as we ran into harbor, leaving her a note to tell
her why."