Some time after Dane's departure, a smartly uniformed hammock train approached Dom Pedro's factory. That worthy ceased his leisurely pacing up and down the veranda, and watched the bearers wind out from the steamy shadow with ill-concealed anxiety, hoping that he might be mistaken. Then as they came on at a steady trot with the poles of the lurching hammock upon their woolly crowns, he stamped on the flooring; and even a sleepy Krooboy started at his vivid maledictions. There was no longer room for doubt that he was about to be honored by a visit from his former partner, Monsieur Victor Rideau, and it was very evident that Dom Pedro was not pleased to see him. His sister, a portly lady, of doubtful age, sat in a shady corner of the veranda, but she passed much of her time in Africa in peaceful slumber, and was now asleep as usual—or appeared so.

"It is too hot for anger, father," a voice said; and Dom Pedro, turning, saw his daughter leaning languidly over the balustrade. She, too, was watching the hammock with a curious expression.

"There is good cause!" Dom Pedro answered, cutting short his flow of expletives. "This Rideau comes another time to torment me. Why is it that when so many honest men die up yonder this one should always come back safely?""He will not always do so. Some day he, too, will be lost in the forest," said Bonita quietly; and the man glanced at her with hope in his eyes, for several of his daughter's predictions had curiously been fulfilled. This may have been due to coincidence, or a shrewd calculation of probabilities; but Dom Pedro, having lived long in a land where occult influences are believed in, was not free from superstition.

"I would send half, or at least a third, of all I have, to the hospital in Lisboa if that were so," he declared. "NiÑa, you speak as though you knew."

Bonita laughed a little, though there was anxiety in her face.

"Padre, one might doubt the efficacy of such a bribe. Perhaps I do. It is money he wants, as usual?"

"Yes." There was a certain hesitation in the man's answer which did not escape his daughter. "It is, of course, the silver, and I have not much to give him. You have no regard for this Rideau, niÑa?"

Bonita's face was a study. Anger, loathing, and the faintest trace of fear were stamped upon it.

"Regard! I have only hatred for el perro!"

The emphasis on the last word was significant: while it means simply dog, and is used on occasion to designate a person jestingly, the Castilian can, by change of inflection, make it imply a rabid cur of the lowest degree; and Bonita used the epithet in that manner.

Dom Pedro raised his shoulders, and drew in his breath. He was slightly afraid of his daughter; but, unfortunately for them both, he was more afraid of Rideau, and he did not look at her when he spoke again.

"It is strange the SeÑor Dane did not return for the book he left, since it shows the path through the forests of Shaillu's country, and he cannot find his way without it."

Bonita smiled upon him pityingly.

"You do not know those men as I do. They plan all from the beginning and leave nothing to chance. The SeÑor Maxwell is a man of system, and he will have safe in his memory all the book could tell him."

"They are a curious people," observed Dom Pedro dryly. "One of those two, however, was surely a trifle blind."

A faint trace of color crept into Bonita's face.

"It is time for you to receive your guest," she said.

Dom Pedro did so with the utmost cordiality, his hat in his hand, and the two men—one of whom despised the other, who feared and hated him—expressed their mutual delight at the meeting with great effusiveness. Bonita Castro watched them meanwhile from a green latticed window, and shivered a little, though the day was as hot as it usually is at that season in West Africa. She slipped her fingers under the laces at her breast, and her face was not attractive when they touched a little piece of wrought silver. It was not a mere adornment, for there was a slender blade of steel attached to it. Again she said, with an intensity of detestation: "El perro!"

Dom Pedro played chess and discoursed upon the shortcomings of their rulers with his guest all afternoon, and the five o'clock comida had been eaten before either hinted that Rideau could have any possible motive for his visit beyond the pleasure of seeing his former partner. Time has no great value to men of Latin extraction in the tropics; and it is possible that one of them found pleasure in prolonging the other's anxiety. At last, when they sat out on the veranda, the visitor, lighting a maize husk cigarette, thrust his wineglass away.

"It is always a gratification to see my old friend Dom Pedro, and I have traveled a long way to give myself that pleasure," he observed; and his host, knowing how much this was worth, braced himself to meet what should follow. "Being here, there is, however, a little affair we can discuss together. I have an opportunity for a small investment to lay before you."

"I am honored, but trade is very bad, and silver scanty," Dom Pedro said hastily. "I have received no profits yet on the last venture."

Rideau spread out his palms deprecatingly.

"They are very dishonest men up yonder in the bush, as you, my friend, should know, and have robbed me shamefully; while it was but an hour since I rejoiced at your prosperity. I saw the cloth and gin sheds empty—and they were full not long ago."

Dom Pedro groaned inwardly, but attempted a show of resolution.

"I repeat that trade is bad. It is, I fear, impossible to oblige even you."

Rideau laughed a little, but his merriment was akin to mockery.

"I can only hope you are mistaken, and this time there will be a profit. There is also another affair I would discuss with you. I am a man with a conscience, and something we are concerned in up in the bush country troubles me. It is told me that these troublesome English make protest with the Administration that when the Emir invaded their dominions his men carried good rifles which could only have been obtained from this colony. The Captain Oger stated publicly that it is a stain on the national honor, and there will be strict inquiry. I am a good friend of Dom Pedro, but first of all patriotic Frenchman, me."

There was no need to speak more plainly, because Dom Pedro understood him thoroughly, and inquired forthwith the lowest sum that would set his visitor's uneasy conscience at rest. Rideau promptly named it; and the Portuguese, being desirous of gaining time, shook his head.

"It is impossible. I also have considered about those rifles often," he said. "Now I think it would be better for me, being an innocent man, to explain to the Administration how the Emir robbed me."

Rideau was not in the least deceived, for he smiled sardonically.

"Is it not a little late, my friend, and the Commandant is a most suspicious man. It is possible he might not believe you, and it is not permitted to arm even one's carriers for protection with rifles; while there is in existence a scroll signed by the Emir and another which shows a voluntary sale. But you say what I ask is impossible. Well, I'll consider, and to-morrow may make a more feasible offer. The last time I came you entertained the sick comrade of the Englishman Maxwell. He has not given you any information about Niven's mine?"

"He did not," said Dom Pedro, with so much earnestness that Rideau did not believe him, and dismissing the subject, airily proposed another game of chess.

The next morning, Dom Pedro, being perhaps anxious to postpone the evil moment, set out for a bush village where he stated he had business; and his guest, feeling sure of his own position, was not wholly sorry to see him go. It would allow him to enjoy Miss Castro's society undisturbed, and also, if circumstances permitted, to glance through the books in her father's office, which he had long desired to do, with a view to discovering how far the man might be taxed. Dom Pedro was not a good bookkeeper, it is true, but his late partner understood his system, or rather the lack of it.

An opportunity did not present itself until all the occupants of the factory had apparently retired, as usual, to sleep in the coolest place they could find during the heat which follows noon. Rideau slipped into the iron-roofed room where Dom Pedro kept his accounts. As it happened, however, Bonita was rather more wide-awake than usual, and shortly afterward she also entered the office, to find her guest glancing into a big folio with evident interest. He was in no way disconcerted, and smiled upon her affably.

"There was a difference in the weight of the last gums I sent down," he explained. "I would find the entry before I speak to Dom Pedro."

Bonita Castro was quick of wit.

"Then, as I help my father with the accounts, you will give me the details," she said.

Rideau's inventive genius was apparently unequal to the task, for he bowed ceremoniously.

"It is impossible to consider any question of business in the brightness of the seÑorita's presence."

Miss Castro laughed.

"You have my full permission. Now, as regards this gum?"

Rideau seated himself languidly."I am a man of affairs, but I have also sensibility, and shall I trouble the seÑorita about a bag of gum? To touch those dusty books is a desecration to her fingers."

"Still, it is of business I wish to talk to you, and you will give me your attention, seÑor," said the girl. "You have the power to cause my father some anxiety."

Rideau leaned forward a little in his chair.

"It is true, but I am too devoted a servant of the seÑorita's to wish to do so. It is for her sake I have concealed an indiscretion of Dom Pedro's which would excite the anger of the Administration. As I have said, I would do very much to win the seÑorita's approval."

"But this is very little, and Dom Pedro pays you well," returned the girl. "The Commandant, who is not a friend of yours, might not credit your story if you told it to him."

Rideau smiled significantly.

"It is very little for me to do if it pleases the seÑorita; but it is much for Dom Pedro. You will know there is provided confiscation and banishment, and even a worse penalty, for selling the Indigene modern rifles, and I have therefore carefully hidden the Emir's agreement and safe conduct made in the Arabic when he is at war with this colony. It is misfortune that Dom Pedro has written his name to it."

Bonita Castro felt a chill run through her, though her face was calm. The man had shown his power plainly, but the desire in his eyes, as he watched her, caused her greater uneasiness. She could, she fancied, see the African nature beneath the indifferent veneer of civilization, and she trembled, knowing that under sufficient pressure her father might be capable of selling more than forbidden rifles. Therefore, even if she had no other motive, it was of the first necessity to lessen that power.

"Such generosity should not go unrewarded," she said. "You have long desired the gold you think the Englishman Niven found, but, unless I help you, you will never discover it. Even the man with the cross on his forehead does not know where the river lies. What would you give for a map showing Niven's road through the Leopards' country? It is so plain that a child could understand it."

Rideau's eyes glistened, but he was cautious.

"There is only one man who can have such a book; and I know he would never part with it."

Bonita laughed.

"Yes—the SeÑor Maxwell. You know he would not part with it? Then you have tried and failed to obtain it from him? The SeÑor Maxwell is a very clever man. Nevertheless, I have the map. Would you recognize that it was genuine if I showed it to you?"

Rideau rose carelessly, and strolled toward the window. There was nobody on that side of the veranda—the compound lay empty under the pitiless heat below, and a slumbrous silence pervaded the factory. There was a change in him when he turned toward the girl, who held out an unfolded paper so that he could see a portion of it. The man was usually cunning, but it was not without results that he had inherited a strain of native blood, and now the instincts of the savage rose uppermost. Brute passion and unreasoning avarice were stamped on his face. He had hitherto made his admiration for the girl very plain, and had accepted her rebuffs with the serenity of one strong enough to wait. Now, however, his companion conceived it possible that he intended to retain his hold upon Dom Pedro and secure the map as well. It was her person he desired, and whether her good will accompanied it or not was probably immaterial.

"The sun has dazzled my eyes, and you will give it to me for near examination," he said, and his voice was husky. When she made a gesture of negation, he halted close in front of her with the veins on his forehead swollen, and one big, dusky hand partly raised.

Bonita Castro had not studied the native character profitlessly, and she knew that very little was required to cause those fingers—and they were the fingers of a negro—to fasten upon her shoulders, or even about her throat; but she had arranged accordingly. She clapped her hands sharply, and Rideau let his arm drop to his side when a patter of bare feet drew nearer along the veranda. A huge muscular Krooman in white uniform stood in the doorway, and the girl smiled a little.

"Call Andres, Pobrecito. Tell him to bring the wine and the last of the steamer ice; but stay there on the veranda yourself. I may want you. It is so hot that you will not refuse if I offer you refreshment, seÑor?" she said.

Rideau's lips twitched a little, and his face was greasy, but the look of the African had faded from it, and he might have passed for a native of southern France when he bowed.

"Who could refuse anything offered by the seÑorita?"

The wine was brought, and the man, who a few moments earlier might have posed for a study of avarice and passion debased to ferocity, smiled as he compared his companion's eyes to the sparkling ocean when he raised his glass. Then, while the big negro squatted just outside the doorway, Miss Castro read extracts from the notes on the back of the map.

"This would be very valuable to a bold man," she said. "What would you give for it? It is no use offering a small thing."

"I would give"—the man hesitated—"I would even give the agreement in Arabic signed by Dom Pedro and the Emir!"

"Then it is yours," said Bonita Castro. "Now it is too hot for further business, even the underweighed gum. You may sit there and tell me of your adventures in the bush country."

Rideau had a large share of vanity, inherited from both parents, and he was in no wise reluctant; if Miss Castro failed to believe all he told her she did not say so. Indeed, she made the man feel that she accepted him as a hero, and fooled him so tactfully that he was several times on the brink of making confidences which might have jeopardized his plans. Fortunately for himself, however, he reflected in time, and did not do so. When at last he withdrew, Miss Castro walked somewhat limply to her room, and sank down into a basket chair in the manner of one who has undergone a heavy nervous strain. Her aunt found her there presently, and placed a hand caressingly on her shoulder as she bent over her.

"This Rideau is a bad man. He has terrified you?" she said compassionately.

"No." The girl's voice trembled, though she smiled. "No, I hardly feared the cur. I have sent him to his own destruction. It is my own sin I fear. I have betrayed the man who trusted me; but still I do not think he will suffer from my treachery."

The elder lady shook off her somnolent expression, and nodded sagaciously.

"The big Englishman who was sick?—I comprehend," she said. "I do not ask questions; but take comfort if it was for your father, niÑa. Also, that Englishman is not clever, but he is very stubborn and strong, and I do not think it will be well for Rideau if he interferes with him."

When Miss Castro found Dom Pedro alone in his sweltering office that night she said to him: "Here is a present, father. I have drawn the dog's teeth."

Dom Pedro's eyes glistened as he clutched at the scroll handed him, then, though he first burned it over the lamp, his forehead grew furrowed, and his jaw fell.

"The cur may have other teeth left, and is of the blood of the African," he said. "Twice I repulsed him when he spoke of marriage. Little one, you have not sold yourself for this?"

The man positively quivered with impatience, but the girl laughed.

"No. I have sold him the blind Englishman. Rideau has the map that belonged to the SeÑor Maxwell."

"Thanks be to heaven!" Dom Pedro exclaimed piously; but his sallow face grew grave again. "It is a great deliverance, but it is not well to make one's profit from the blood of white men. This Rideau, who is very cunning, will follow and bring disaster upon the Englishmen up yonder. Already, I have suffered many things because of the black men the Emir stole from me."Bonita's eyes shone.

"You do not see clearly, father, or know the manner of those other men. What is it to me if these strangers do not find the gold—but I would not have them die. I have been in their country, and if the cur dog follows, plotting treachery, as I think he will, the SeÑor Maxwell will surely kill him."

"Ojala! Heaven send it so," murmured Dom Pedro, and would have embraced his daughter, but that, shrinking from him, she slipped out into the moonlit veranda. The little olive-faced gentleman stood staring at the papers before him, and hoping that it might come about as she had predicted.