We can outdo these Arabs at their own trade." An evil smile lighted up Durnovo's sallow face.

When he smiled, his dropping, curtain-like moustache projected in a way that made keen observers of the human face wonder what his mouth was like.
Gordon, who had been handling the paper with the tips of his finger, as if it were something unclean, threw it down on the table again.
"Ye--es," he said slowly; "but it does not seem to dirty black hands as it does white.

They know no better." "Lord!" ejaculated Durnovo.

"Don't let us begin the old arguments all over again.

I thought we settled that the trade was there; we couldn't prevent it, and therefore the best thing is to make hay while the sun shines, and then clear out of the country." "But suppose Meredith finds out ?" reiterated Maurice Gordon, with a lamentable hesitation that precedes loss.
"If Meredith finds out, it will be the worse for him." A certain concentration of tone aroused Maurice Gordon's attention, and he glanced uneasily at his companion.
"No one knows what goes on in the heart of Africa," said Durnovo darkly.
"But we will not trouble about that; Meredith won't find out." "Where is he now ?" "With your sister, at the bungalow.