They were walking up the bank towards the dusky and uninviting tent.

"And the other fellow?" inquired Durnovo, with a backward jerk of
the head.

"Oh--he is my servant."

Durnovo raised his eyebrows in somewhat contemptuous amusement, and
proceeded to open the letter which Meredith had handed him.

"Not many fellows," he said, "on this coast can afford to keep a
European servant."

Jack Meredith bowed, and ignored the irony.

"But," he said courteously, "I suppose you find these coloured chaps
just as good when they have once got into your ways?"

"Oh yes," muttered Durnovo. He was reading the letter. "Maurice
Gordon," he continued, "says you are travelling for pleasure--just
looking about you. What do you think of it?"

He indicated the dismal prospect with a harsh laugh.

"A bit suggestive of Hell," he went on, "eh? How does it strike
you?"

"Finer timber, I should think," suggested Jack Meredith, and Durnovo
laughed more pleasantly.