"
Trent thought of the night when he had crept back into the bush and
had found no trace of Monty, and gradually there rose up before him
a lurid possibility Da Souza's story was true. The very thought of
it worked like madness in his brains. When he spoke he strove hard
to steady his voice, and even to himself it sounded like the voice
of one speaking a long way off.
"Supposing that this were true," he said, "what is he doing all this
time? Why does he not come and claim his share?"
Da Souza hesitated. He would have liked to have invented another
reason, but it was not safe. The truth was best.
"He is half-witted and has lost his memory. He is working now at
one of the Basle mission-places near Attra."
"And why have you not told me this before?"
Da Souza shrugged his shoulders. "It was not necessary," he said.
"Our interests were the same, it was better for you not to know."
"He remembers nothing, then?"
Da Souza hesitated. "Oom Sam," he said, "my half-brother, keeps an
eye on him. Sometimes he gets restless, he talks, but what matter?
He has no money. Soon he must die. He is getting an old man!"
"I shall send for him," Trent said slowly. "He shall have his share!"
It was the one fear which had kept Da Souza silent.
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