We climbed in silence till we reached the
spot where Rhodes lies guarded by giant
boulders. A strange eerie place, far from the
haunts of men, that sings a ceaseless paean of
rugged beauty.
We sat there for some time in silence. Then
descended once more, but diverging slightly
from the path. Sometimes it was a rough
scramble and once we came to a sharp slope
or rock that was almost sheer.
Colonel Race went first, then turned to
help me.
"Better lift you," he said suddenly, and
swung me off my feet with a quick gesture.
I felt the strength of him as he set me down
and released his clasp. A man of iron, with
muscles like taut steel. And again I felt afraid,
especially as he did not move aside, but stood
directly in front of me, staring into my face.
"What are you really doing here, Anne
Beddingfield?" he said abruptly.
"I'm a gipsy seeing the world."
"Yes, that's true enough. The newspaper
correspondent is only a pretext. You've not
the soul of the journalist. You're out for your
262
own hand—snatching at life. But that's not
all."
What was he going to make me tell him? I
was afraid—afraid. I looked him full in the
face. My eyes can't keep secrets like his, but
they can carry the war into the enemy's
country.
"What are you really doing here. Colonel
Race?" I asked deliberately.
For a moment I thought he wasn't going to
answer. He was clearly taken aback, though.
At last he spoke, and his words seemed to
afford him a grim amusement.
"Pursuing ambition," he said. "Just thatpursuing ambition. You will remember. Miss
Beddingfield, that 'by that sin fell the angels,'
etc."
"They say," I said slowly, "that you are
really connected with the Government—that
you are in the Secret Service. Is that true?"
Was it my fancy, or did he hesitate for a
fraction of a second before he answered?
"I can assure you. Miss Beddingfield, that I
am out here strictly as a private individual
travelling for my own pleasure."
Thinking the answer over later, it struck
m^ as slightly ambiguous. Perhaps he meant
^ to be so.
263
We rejoined the car in silence. Halfway
back to Bulawayo we stopped for tea at a
somewhat primitive structure at the side of
the road. The proprietor was digging in the
garden, and seemed annoyed at being
disturbed. And he graciously promised to see
what he could do. After an interminable wait, he brought us some stale cakes and some
lukewarm tea. Then he disappeared to his
garden again.
No sooner had he departed than we were
surrounded by cats, six of them all miaowing
piteously at once. The racket was deafening. I
offered them some pieces of cake. They
devoured them ravenously. I poured all the
milk there was into a saucer and they fought
each other to get it.
"Oh," I cried indignantly, "they're
starved! It's wicked. Please, please, order
some more milk and another plate of cake."
Colonel Race departed silently to do my
bidding. The cats had begun miaowing again.
He returned with a big jug of milk and the
cats finished it all.
I got up with determination on my face.
"I'm going to take those cats home with
us--I shan't leave them here."
"My dear child, don't be absurd. You can't
264
carry six cats as well as fifty wooden animals
round with you."
"Never mind the wooden animals. These
cats are alive. I shall take them back with
me."
"You will do nothing of the kind." I looked
at him resentfully, but he went on: "You
think me cruel--but one can't go through life
sentimentalizing over these things. It's no
good standing out--1 shan't allow you to take
them. It's a primitive country, you know, and I'm stronger than you."
I always know when I am beaten. I went
down to the car with tears in my eyes.
"They're probably short of food just today,"
he explained consolingly. "That man's
wife has gone into Bulawayo for stores. So it
will be all right. And anyway, you know, the
world's full of starving cats."
"Don't-don't," I said fiercely.
"I'm teaching you to realize life as it is. I'm
teaching you to be hard and ruthless--like I
am. That's the secret of strength--and the
secret of success."
"I'd sooner be dead than hard," I said
passionately.
We got into the car and started off. I pulled ^yself together again slowly. Suddenly, to
265
my intense astonishment, he took my hand in
his
"Anne," he said gently, "I want you. Will
you marry me?"
I was utterly taken aback.
"Oh, no," I stammered. <
"Why not?"
"I don't care for you in that way. I've never
thought of you like that."
"I see. Is that the only reason?"
I had to be honest. I owed it him.
"No," I said, "it is not. You see-I--care
for someone else."
"I see," he said again. "And was that true
at the beginning--v^hen I first saw you--on
the Kilmordeny9 "No," I whispered. "It was--since then."
"I see," he said for the third time, but this
time there was a purposeful ring in his voice
that made me turn and look at him, His face
was grimmer than I had ever seen it.
"What--what do you mean?" I faltered.
He looked at me, inscrutable, dominating.
"Only--that I know now what I have to
do."
His words sent a shiver through ine. There
was a determination behind them that I did
not understand--and it frightened me.
266
We neither of us said any more until we got
back to the hotel. I went straight up to
Suzanne. She was lying on her bed reading,
and did not look in the least as though she
had a headache.
"Here reposes the perfect gooseberry," she
remarked. "Alias the tactful chaperone. Why, Anne dear, what's the matter?"
For I had burst into a floor of tears.
I told her about the cats--1 felt it wasn't fair
to tell her about Colonel Race. But Suzanne
is very sharp. I think she saw that there was
something more behind.
"You haven't caught a chill, have you, Anne? Sounds absurd even to suggest such
things in this heat, but you keep on
shivering."
"It's nothing," I said. "Nerves--or
someone walking over my grave. I keep
feeling something dreadful's going to
happen."
"Don't be silly," said Suzanne, with decision.
"Let's talk of something interesting.
"What about them?"
"I'm not sure they're safe with me. It was all right before, no one could think they'd be
amongst my things. But now that everyone
^ITBS 18 267
I
knows we're such friends, you and I, I'll be
under suspicion too."
"Nobody knows they're in a roll of films,
though," I argued. "It's a splendid hidingplace
and I really don't think we could better
it."
She agreed doubtfully, but said we would
discuss it again when we got to the Falls.
Our train went at nine o'clock. Sir
Eustace's temper was still far from good, and
Miss Pettigrew looked subdued. Colonel
Race was completely himself. I felt that I had
dreamed the whole conversation on the way
back.
I slept heavily that night on my hard bunk,
struggling with ill-defined, menacing dreams.
I awoke with a headache and went out on the
observation platform of the car. It was fresh
and lovely, and everywhere, as far as one
could see, were the undulating wooded hills.
I loved it—loved it more than any place I had
ever seen. I wished then that I could have a
little hut somewhere in the heart of the scrub
and live there always—always. . . .
Just before half-past two, Colonel Race
called me out from the "office" and pointed
to a bouquet-shaped white mist that hovered
over one portion of the bush.
268
"The spray from the Falls," he said. "We
are nearly there."
I was still wrapped in that strange dream
feeling of exaltation that had succeeded my
troubled night. Very strongly implanted in
me was the feeling that I had come home....
Home! And yet I had never been here
before—or had I in dreams?
We walked from the train to the hotel, a
big white building closely wired against
mosquitoes. There were no roads, no houses.
We went out on the stoep and I uttered a gasp.
There, half a mile away, facing us, were the
Falls. I've never seen anything so grand and
beautiful—I never shall.
"Anne, you're fey," said Suzanne, as we sat
down to lunch. "I've never seen you like this
before."
She stared at me curiously.
"Am I?" I laughed, but I felt that my laugh
was unnatural. "It's just that I love it all."
"It's more than that."
A little frown crossed her brow—one of
apprehension.
Yes, I was happy, but beyond that I had the
curious feeling that I was waiting for something—something
that would happen soon. I
^s excited—restless.
269
After tea we strolled out, got on the trolley
and were pushed by smiling blacks down the
little tracks of rails to the bridge.
It was a marvellous sight, the great chasm
and the rushing waters below, and the veil of
mist and spray in front of us that parted every
now and then for one brief minute to show
the cataract of water and then closed up again
in its impenetrable mystery. That, to my
mind, has always been the fascination of the
Falls—their elusive quality. You always think
you're going to see—and you never do.
We crossed the bridge and walked slowly
on by the path that was marked out with
white stone on either side and led round the
brink of the gorge. Finally we arrived in a big
clearing where on the left a path led
downwards towards the chasm.
"The palm gully," explained Colonel
Race. "Shall we go down? Or shall we leave it
until tomorrow? It will take some time, and
it's a good climb up again."
"We'll leave it until to-morrow," said Sir
Eustace with decision. He isn't at all fond of
strenuous physical exercise, I have noticed.
He led the way back. As we went, we
passed a fine native stalking along. Behind
him came a woman who seemed to have the
270
entire household belongings piled upon her
head! The collection included a frying-pan.
"I never have my camera when I want it,"
groaned Suzanne.
"That's an opportunity that will occur
often enough, Mrs. Blair," said Colonel
Race. "So don't lament."
We arrived back on the bridge.
"Shall we go into the rainbow forest?" he
continued. "Or are you afraid of getting
wet?"
Suzanne and I accompanied him. Sir
Eustace went back to the hotel. I was rather
disappointed in the rainbow forest. There
weren't nearly enough rainbows, and we got
soaked to the skin, but every now and then we
got a glimpse of the Falls opposite and
realized how enormously wide they are. Oh,
dear, dear Falls, how I love and worship you
and always shall!
We got back to the hotel just in time to
change for dinner. Sir Eustace seems to have
taken a positive antipathy to Colonel Race.
Suzanne and I rallied him gently, but didn't
get much satisfaction.
After dinner he retired to his sitting-room,
dragging Miss Pettigrew with him. Suzanne
^d I talked for a while with Colonel Race,
271
and then she declared, with an immense
yawn, that she was going to bed. I didn't
want to be left alone with him, so I got up too
and went to my room.
But I was far too excited to go to sleep. I
did not even undress. I lay back in a chair and
gave myself up to dreaming. And all the time
I was conscious of something coming nearer
and nearer. . . .
There was a knock at the door, and I
started. I got up and went to it. A little black
boy held out a note. It was addressed to me in
a handwriting I did not know. I took it and
came back into the room. I stood there
holding it. At last I opened it. It was very
short!
"I must see you. I dare not come to the
hotel. Will you come to the clearing by the
palm gully? In memory of Cabin 17 please
come. The man you knew as Harry Rayburn."
My
heart beat to suffocation. He was here
then! Oh, I had known it—1 had known it all
along! I had felt him near me. All unwittingly
I had come to his place of retreat.
I wound a scarf round my head and stole to
the door. I must be careful. He was hunted
272
down. No one must see me meet him. I stole
along to Suzanne's room. She was fast asleep.
I could hear her breathing evenly.
Sir Eustace? I paused outside the door of
his sitting-room. Yes, he was dictating to
Miss Pettigrew, I could hear her monotonous
voice repeating: "I therefore venture to
suggest, that in tackling this problem of
coloured labour—�
��" She paused for him to
continue, and I heard him grunt something
angrily.
I stole on again. Colonel Race's room was
empty. I did not see him in the lounge. And
he was the man I feared most! Still, I could
waste no more time. I slipped quietly out of
the hotel, and took the path to the bridge.
I crossed it and stood there waiting in the
shadow. If anyone had followed me, I should
see them crossing the bridge. But the minutes
passed, and no one came. I had not been
followed. I turned and took the path to the
clearing. I took six paces or so, and then
stopped. Something had rustled behind me.
It could not be anyone who had followed me
from the hotel. It was someone who was
already here, waiting.
And immediately, without rhyme or
reason, but with the sureness of instinct, I
273
knew that it was I myself who was threatened.
It was the same feeling as I had had on the Kilmorden that night--a sure instinct warning
me of danger.
I looked sharply over my shoulder. Silence.
I moved on a pace or two. Again I heard that
rustle. Still walking, I looked over my
shoulder again. A man's figure came out of
the shadow. He saw that I saw him, and
jumped forward, hard on my track.
It was too dark to recognize anybody. All I
could see was that he was tall, and a
European, not a native. I took to my heels
and ran. I heard him pounding behind. I ran
quicker, keeping my eyes fixed on the white
stones that showed me where to step, for
there was no moon that night.
And suddenly my foot felt nothingness. I
heard the man behind me laugh, an evil, sinister laugh. It rang in my ears, as I fell
headlong--down--down--down to destruction
far beneath.
274
25
I CAME to myself slowly and painfully. I
was conscious of an aching head and a
shooting pain down my left arm when I
tried to move, and everything seemed dreamlike
and unreal. Nightmare visions floated
before me. I felt myself falling--falling again.
Once Harry Rayburn's face seemed to come
to me out of the mist. Almost I imagined it
real. Then it floated away again, mocking me.
Once, I remember, someone put a cup to my
lips and I drank. A black face grinned into
mine--a devil's face. I thought it, and
screamed out. Then dreams again--long
troubled dreams in which I vainly sought
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