of music and perfect diction. Amidst the shrill vulgarity which
counterfeited wit in the average upper class gathering of the period
such a voice must have sounded like the song of a robin in a crowded
rookery.

The unexpected greeting brought a rush of color to Dick's face. But
yesterday's cloud had vanished, and his natural embarrassment was
obviously that of a well-bred man young enough to be delighted by the
recognition. Moreover, he was not covered with mud, nor had his
sensibilities been jarred by standards representing the hell and heaven
of modern existence.

He lifted his hat.

"I am glad to see you have experienced no ill effects from yesterday's
shock, Miss Fenshawe," he said.

"Not in the least. It was a wonderful escape. Even the victoria leaves
hospital this afternoon, I am told."

Mr. Fenshawe, whose silvery-white hair and wrinkled skin betokened an
age that his erect, spare frame would otherwise have concealed, patted
Royson's shoulder.

"You did well, Mr. King, very well. I am much beholden to you. And I
was pleased to hear from Baron von Kerber last night that you have
joined our expedition."

Though of middle height, Mr. Fenshawe had to raise his hand as high as
his own forehead to reach Dick's back. His eyes were shrewd and keen,