This is the first time that the Knolly Estate has allowed the great man's memoirs to be published. What follows is the forty-fourth section of 'An African Adventure'.

We first made our apologies to the librarian, Miss Scarlett, poor old Reverend Green and the Colonel and we then hastened after Bertie's assailant. By now, I knew at least for whom he was working and the general direction in which he was heading.

'Bertie? How's your head?' I inquired as we emerged into the daylight.

'Fine, I think. So what's the plan? Stroll down into Simon's Town and demand to see the jackets of each and every officer, and then parade those men who have tattoos so that I can find one that matches?'

'Hmmmm. A plan that is indeed simple and direct, but, alas, not one that will work. No. I think that we go directly to the top and demand to see the Admiral.'

Bertie looked dumbstruck at this suggestion. 'Good Lord! You don't think that it was him, do you?'

I did not need to reply. My glare said enough. I continued. 'First, we have to detour via La Mer. Yes, yes I know we said that we would not go back 'til much later in the day, but I want to see if the fellow from the sauna left in a hurry this morning.'

'Look Knolly, here comes a cab. Oh my! What a coincidence! It's the same chap who picked us up last night.'

Irony dripped from my every word as I replied in an unkindly mimic, 'Oh my! Yes, what a coincidence indeed!'

The penny dropped with Bertie. 'Ah,' he said, tapping his nose with a conspiratorial air. The cab drew up alongside.

'Hello gents! And where will it be today?' asked our erstwhile guide.

'Just back to our lodgings, I'm afraid,' Bertie answered.

The cab driver was somewhat taken aback and became rather agitated. 'Are you sure that's where you want to go to?'

'Oh, I think so, don't you, Knolly?'

'Oh, quite... unless, dear driver, you have it your mind that we should be elsewhere?'

'Me, sirs? Oh, no sirs! Why... what would I be doin' with a mind of me own? ... 'umble chap like meself ....'

'Good. Then take us straight to La Mer, please.'

'And please note the emphasis on the word "straight". I wish to avoid the scenic route this time,' added Bertie.

Once we were in the cab and moving, I took a look behind us to see if anyone was following. I was content that this time we seemed to be alone.

Bertie whispered to me. 'So, who is our driver?'

'I suspect he is in league with that chap who stole the books and who tried to file you in the process.'

'Navy, eh? Or perhaps a Royal Marine, judging by the lack of teeth.'

'Quite possibly. His dearth of dentures could be the result of marine military mayhem. One thing is for sure: we have upset their script. It would seem that they want us to pay a visit to Her Majesty's Navy, but our going back to La Mer will force their hand.'

Our driver, duly warned, made no attempt to take us on a roundabout route, and neither did he attempt to deliver us to any other specified place; indeed, we made good time. Bertie and I alighted smartly and tossed the driver a couple of coins. In uneasy silence, he nodded his thanks, turned the cab and headed back the way he had come rather more quickly than he had arrived.

Bertie turned to me as if to seek an explanation.

'Man on a mission, I think, old friend. Now, tell me... ' I said, pointing up the gangplank. 'What is wrong with this picture. Hmm?'

I had looked around and had felt distinctly uncomfortable at the lack of activity. Bertie looked up and grimaced. 'Looks too quiet for my liking. Almost as if no one has moved since we left.'

I raised my eyebrows. 'A trap, perhaps?'

Bertie nodded. 'I am quite sure that we will not be on our own for long.'

I took a deep breath. 'Come on, then. Let us see what lies ahead.'

'Indeed,' said Bertie. 'This is no time for shilly-shallying.'

'Or dilly-dallying,' I added.

'Yes. You are right to separate the act of shilly-shally from that of dilly-dally, for they are quite different actions,' said Bertie.

'It does astound me how there still remains confusion 'twixt the two, even in this enlightened age.'

And thus we continued for fully five minutes, debating the whys and wherefores of the purposes and pursuits of procrastinatory prolongment and postponement. We would have extended our debate for much longer had we not been interrupted by a voice from the top of the gangplank.

'Ah ha! Good morning to you both. I trust that you are both refreshed from your morning walk, yes?' It was the smiling Chief Steward, Keith Stewart. We nodded to him. 'That is good. We had rather expected you for breakfast, but alas, you seemed to slip away. So now it will have to be an early luncheon.'

He paused thoughtfully for a moment, and his gaze was directed over our shoulders.

'Such naughty boys!' said one voice from behind us.

'Indeed! No goodbyes! And after we had been so nice to them!' came another voice from behind.

Before we had the chance to turn to speak with each other, Bertie and I suddenly found ourselves gripped at the elbow by Lillian and Eugenie.

'Ladies!' said Bertie. 'I do hope that we have not put you to too much trouble.”'In addition, he blinked: HOW DID THEY GET THERE?

I raised my eyebrows, about to reply. They smiled as one, which was very unnerving and put me off my stride.

'Not at all. But the captain does not like to be kept waiting,' said Lillian.

'Lunch with the captain? How marvellous! But I fear that Knolly and I cannot stay too long....'

Eugenie smiled. 'The captain likes to savour his meals, so you may have to adjust your appointments accordingly.'

I looked at Bertie and blinked SO POLITE, just as the grips on our elbows tightened.

We were thus escorted towards the bow of the ship and then up a flight of stairs. Judging by the number of uniformed men patrolling the corridors, this area was obviously out of bounds to the rest of the clientele. We stopped outside a large wooden door. The Chief Steward rapped sharply on it and did not wait for a reply before leading us in.

We found ourselves entering a room that was dimly lit, but the echo of our footfall belied the fact that it was cavernous (and very likely a Roux design). A lamplighter on stilts brushed past us and made for a monstrous candelabra that hung in the gloomy distance. As he put a flame to each candle, we could determine additional detail of our surroundings and we quickly realised that we were in a stateroom that reeked of opulence and power. Portraits adorned the walls, marble statues lined the floor and a polished oak table the size of a tennis court took centre stage. From the head of this table — which was not yet lit by the candlelight — came a voice.

'Ah! Mr Bond! I have been expecting you.'

The Chief Steward called out. 'Errmm, no, sorry sir. Mr Bond is not due until three o'clock this afternoon. This is Mr Knolly and Mr Harrison-Harrison.'

There came much 'tut-tutting' and mumbling from the gloom and the voice started again. 'I am most terribly sorry. It would appear that my diary is not quite up to date. Would you mind awfully going outside and coming in again, please?'

Bertie and I looked to the Steward for guidance. He just shrugged. We concurred with the request. We left the room and re-entered.

'Ah! Messrs Knolly and Harrison-Harrison! I have been expecting you. So good of you to join me for this menage of breakfast and lunch that I like to call "lufast".'

The candles were now in full glow, and we could see the speaker. Just as I suspected: it was Fred Kite. He chuckled and his assembled minions chorused in sycophantic sniggers. We were marched along the table toward the head; Lillian and Eugenie pushed us down into empty seats either side of Kite. Bertie found himself sitting next to Ping 'The Elastic Man', while I found myself alongside one of the Hendersons (I was not sure which was which). Our two escorts took up station behind each of us, daring us to move.

'I think you know everyone here?' Kite went on. 'You were quite fortunate to run into Eugenie and Lillian, my Trans-Sisters, on your train journey. Had you met anyone else, you may not have made it this far... but they are my newest recruits and they do not know you as well as I do!' His voice grew louder. Kite was clearly not a happy man. 'But what am I to do with you both? I cannot believe that you have come halfway around the world to hunt me down! Indeed, I am well aware that you knew I was on the continent. Oh, yes! Daphne told me all about the balloon... and shame on you, Mr Harrison-Harrison, for leaving her behind.'

Bertie went a strange colour in the face and pointed at me. 'That was all Knolly's fault!'

'I'm sure it was, I'm sure it was,' said Kite in a reassuring tone as he took Bertie's hand and patted it in a fatherly way. He continued. 'So this is just a fortunate get-together — or in your case, unfortunate. You see, I am doing rather well here. All of this...' and he gestured expansively, '... is a thriving business and I have greased the hands of many local politicians to be left alone. Indeed, they are some of my best customers.' He laughed at his little joke and his entourage joined in. 'So, my dear Knolly and Bertie. What are we to do with you both?'

Bertie blinked: I SUPPOSE THAT LETTING US GO IS NOT AN OPTION?

I was about to give Kite an answer, but he held up a hand and cut me short. 'No, no, no! Food first, discussions later. I insist.'

He rang a little bell that was beside his plate and in came Daphne and the two halves of 'Henry the Horse'. They were carrying coffee and an assortment of pastries.

'One should never become uncivilised, whatever the occasion,' said Kite. As he took the pot of coffee, he added, 'Shall I be mother?'

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