CHAPTER TWO.
The Gathering of the Missionaries I wrote out a wire to Sandy, asking him to come up by the two-fifteen train and meet me at my flat.
'I have chosen my colleague,' I said.
'Billy Arbuthnot's boy?
His father was at Harrow with me.

I know the fellow--Harry used to bring him down to fish--tallish, with a lean, high-boned face and a pair of brown eyes like a pretty girl's.

I know his record, too.

There's a good deal about him in this office.

He rode through Yemen, which no white man ever did before.