"There was something else I wanted to ask," he said a moment or
two later. "What about the man Francis. Has he been heard of
lately?"
Oom Sam shook his head.
"Ten months ago," he answered, "a trader from Lulabulu reported
having passed him on his way to the interior. He spoke of visiting
Sugbaroo, another country beyond. If he ventured there, he will
surely never return."
Trent set down his glass without a word, and called to some Kru boys
in the square who carried litters.
"I am going," he said, "to find Monty."
CHAPTER XXIV
An old man, with his face turned to the sea, was making a weary
attempt at digging upon a small potato patch. The blaze of the
tropical sun had become lost an hour or so before in a strange, grey
mist, rising not from the sea, but from the swamps which lay here
and there - brilliant, verdant patches of poison and pestilence.
With the mist came a moist, sticky heat, the air was fetid. Trent
wiped the perspiration from his forehead and breathed hard. This
was an evil moment for him.
Monty turned round at the sound of his approaching footsteps. The
two men stood face to face. Trent looked eagerly for some sign of
recognition - none came.
"Don't you know me?" Trent said huskily. "I'm Scarlett Trent - we
went up to Bekwando together, you know.
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