This, indeed, was his first care on reaching London, and before his
eyes and brain were accustomed to the roar of the street life he
took a cab to Russell Square, giving the number affixed to the door
of a gloomy house in the least frequented corner of the stately
quadrangle.

"Is Mr. Guy Oscard at home?" he inquired of the grave man-servant.

"He is, sir," replied the butler, stepping aside.

Victor Durnovo thought that a momentary hesitation on the part of
the butler was caused by a very natural and proper feeling of
admiration for the new clothes and hat which he had purchased out of
the money advanced by Jack Meredith for the outfit of the
expedition. In reality the man was waiting for the visitor to throw
away his cigar before crossing the threshold. But he waited in
vain, and Durnovo stood, cigar in mouth, in the dining-room until
Guy Oscard came to him.

At first Oscard did not recognise him, and conveyed this fact by a
distant bow and an expectant silence.

"You do not seem to recognise me," said Durnovo with a laugh, which
lasted until the servant had closed the door. "Victor Durnovo!"

"Oh--yes--how are you?"

Oscard came forward and shook hands. His manner was not exactly
effusive. The truth was that their acquaintanceship in Africa had