I put on my hat and went out, intending to buy a few souvenirs. The curio-shops in Jo'burg are rather pleasant. I was just studying a window full of imposing karosses, when a man coming out of the shop cannoned into me. To my surprise it turned out to be Race.
I can't flatter myself that he looked pleased to see me. As a matter of fact, he looked distinctly annoyed, but I insisted on his accompanying me back to the hotel. I get tired of having no one but Miss Pettigrew to talk to.
"I had no idea you were in Jo'burg," I said chattily. "When did you arrive?"
"Last night."
"Where are you staying?"
"With friends."
He was disposed to be extraordinarily taciturn, and seemed to be embarrassed by my questions.
"I hope they keep poultry," I remarked. "A diet of new-laid eggs and the occasional slaughtering of an old cock will be decidedly agreeable soon from all I hear.
"By the way," I said, when we were back in the hotel, "have you heard that Miss Beddingfeld is alive and kicking?"
He nodded.
"She gave us quite a fright," I said airily. "Where the devil did she go to that night, that's what I'd like to know."
"She was on the island all the time."
"Which island? Not the one with the young man on it?"
"Yes."
"How very improper," I said. "Pagett will be quite shocked. He always did disapprove of Anne Beddingfeld. I suppose that was the young man she originally intended to meet in Durban?"
