Fielding stared at him for a minute.  Then he said, ’Drake, you’re a damned liar.’

‘We haven’t much time,’ said Drake, ’and I would like to say something to you about the future of the Matanga settlement.  You will take my place, I suppose.  You can, and ought to’; and he entered at once into details on administration.

The advice, however, was lost upon Fielding.  Once he interrupted Drake.  ‘How many white men were with you on the Boruwimi expedition?’ he asked.

‘Four,’ answered Drake, and he gave the names.  ’They are dead, though.  Two died of fever on the way back; one was killed in a subsequent expedition, and the fourth was drowned about eighteen months ago off Walfisch Bay.’  A noise of portmanteaux being dragged along the passage penetrated through the closed door.  Drake looked at his watch, and started to his feet.  ‘I must be off,’ he said; ’I am late as it is.  You might do something for me, and that is to post these letters.’

‘But, man, you are not really going?’

Drake for answer put on his hat and took up his stick.  ‘Good-bye,’ he said.

’But, look here!  Do you ask me to believe that you would have been giving me all this advice, if you had really done what that infernal paper makes you out to have done?’

’I’ll give you a final piece of advice too.  Give up philandering and get married!’

With that he opened the door and went out, and a few seconds later Fielding heard the sound of his cab-wheels rattle on the pavement.

Drake, on reaching Charing Cross, found that he had more time to spare than he had reckoned.  He was walking slowly along the train in search of an empty compartment when, from a window a few paces ahead of him, a face flashed out, and as suddenly withdrew.  The face was Conway’s, and Drake felt that the sudden withdrawal meant a distinct desire to avoid recognition.  He set the desire down to the unrepulsed attack of the Meteor, and since he had no inclination to force his company upon Conway, he turned on his heel and moved towards the other end of the train.  He was just opposite the archway of the booking-office when a woman, heavily veiled and of a slight figure, came out of it.  At the sight of Drake she came to a dead stop, and so attracted his attention.  Then she quickly turned her back to him, walked to the bookstall, and slipped round the side of it into the waiting-room.  Drake wheeled about again.  Conway’s head was stretched out of the window; and he was gazing towards the bookstall.

Drake was in no doubt as to who the woman was, and he felt his heart turn to stone.  He walked quickly back until he reached Conway’s compartment.  It was empty save for him, but there was a reserved label in the window.

‘Holloa!’ said Conway, awkwardly enough.  ’Are you going by this train?  You had better find a seat if you are.’