“I can, if need be,” answered that determined young woman.  “But I admit that it would be trying for you, if you stay here.”

“That’s just the point, Barbara.  I must not stay here, I must go away, the further the better, until you are your own mistress.”

“Where to, Alan?”

“To West Africa, I think.”

“To West Africa?” repeated Barbara, her voice trembling a little.  “After that treasure, Alan?”

“Yes, Barbara.  But first come and have your lunch, then we will talk.  I have got lots to tell and show you.”

So they lunched, speaking of indifferent things, for the servant was there waiting on them.  Just as they were finishing their meal Jeekie entered the room carrying a box and a large envelope addressed to his master, which he said had been sent by special messenger from the office in London.

“What’s in the box?” asked Alan, looking somewhat nervously at the envelope, which was addressed in a writing that he knew.

“Don’t know for certain, Major,” answered Jeekie, “but think Little Bonsa; think I smell her through wood.”

“Well, look and see,” replied Alan, while he broke the seal of the envelope and drew out its contents.  They proved to be sundry documents sent by the firm’s lawyers, among which were a notice of the formal dissolution of partnership to be approved by him before it appeared in the Gazette, a second notice calling in a mortgage for fifteen thousand and odd pounds on Yarleys, which as a matter of business had been taken over by the firm while he was a partner; a cash account showing a small balance against him, and finally a receipt for him to sign acknowledging the return of the gold image that was his property.

“You see,” said Alan with a sigh, pushing over the papers to Barbara, who read them carefully one by one.

“I see,” she answered presently.  “It is war to the knife.  Alan, I hate the idea of it, but perhaps you had better go away.  While you are here they will harass the life out of you.”

Meanwhile with the aid of a big jack-knife and the dining-room poker, Jeekie had prized off the lid of the box.  Chancing to look round Barbara saw him on his knees muttering something in a strange tongue, and bowing his white head until it touched an object that lay within the box.

“What are you doing, Jeekie?” she asked.

“Make bow to Little Bonsa, Miss Barbara, tell her how glad I am see her come back from town.  She like feel welcome.  Now you come bow too, Little Bonsa take that as compliment.”

“I won’t bow, but I will look, Jeekie, for although I have heard so much about it I have never really examined this Yellow God.”

“Very good, you come look, miss,” and Jeekie propped up the case upon the end of the dining-room table.  As from its height and position she could not see its contents very well whilst standing above it, Barbara knelt down to get a better view of it.