Some years since--it was during the winter before the Zulu War--a White Man was travelling through
Natal. His name does not matter, for he plays no part in this story.
I, Allan Quatermain, of Durban,
Natal, Gentleman, make oath and say-- That's how I headed my deposition before the magistrate about poor Khiva's and Ventvogel's sad deaths; but somehow it doesn't seem quite the right way to begin a book.