. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Enschede halted. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. . Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. In privacy he read and reread it a dozen times, and eventually destroyed it by fire. ’ A reluctant laugh escaped him. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is.
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