The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ sent him a long green leaf, which meant that she was in mourning for him. He accepted this as an augury of what might happen and left the city with commendable expedition.

      The chiefs and kings of other countries paid her visits of ceremony, bringing her rich presents. Not least of these was Bosambo of the Ochori.

      His state rivalled in magnificence a combination of the sunset and the morning star, but the girl on her dais was not noticeably affected.

      “Lady Queen,” said Bosambo, “I have come a long journey because I have heard of your greatness and your beauty, and, behold, you are wonderful to see, and your wisdom blinds me like the sun on still water.”

      “I have heard of you,” said E’logina. “You are a little chief of a little people.”

      “The moon is little also, when seen from a muck-heap,” said Bosambo calmly. “I return to my moon.”

      He was ruffled, though he did not betray the fact.

      “Tomorrow,” he said, as he prepared to depart, “I send word to Sandi, who, as all the world knows, is my nephew — being the son of my sister’s husband’s brother, and therefore of my blood — and I will say to him that here in the N’Gombi is a queen who puts shame upon our house.”

      “Lord Bosambo,” said the girl hurriedly, “we know that you are nearly related to Sandi, and it would be wrong if my foolish tongue made you ashamed.”

      “We are proud men, Sandi and I,” said Bosambo, “and he will be very terrible in his anger when he knows in what way you have spoken.”

      The girl rose and came toward him.

      “Lord Bosambo,” she said, “if you leave me now it will be dark and there will be no sun. For often I have spoken of you till my councillors weary of your name and deeds. Therefore, stay with me a little that I may drink of your understanding.”

      But Bosambo was dignified and obdurate.

      “Also, Lord Bosambo,” she said, “there are many presents which my people are gathering for you, for it would be shameful if I sent you back to your great nation empty-handed.”

      “I will stay,” said Bosambo, “though presents I do not value — save meal and a little water — and my hut is filled with presents from Sandi.” He observed the look of relief on the girl’s face, and added without a tremor, “So that I have room only for precious gifts as your ladyship will give me.”

      He stayed that day, and the queen found him agreeable; he stayed the next day, and the queen was fascinated by his talk. On the third day he was indispensable.

      Then came Bosambo’s culminating effort.

      He had a passion for discussing his kinship with Sanders, and she was an attentive listener. Also she had that day given him many tusks of ivory to carry with him to his home.

      “My brother Sandi,” said Bosambo, “will be pleased already; he loves you and has spoken to me about you. Now I will not doubt that his love will be greater than it is for me — for you are a woman, and Sandi has sighed many days for you.”

      She listened with a kindling eye. A new and splendid thought came into her head. Bosambo departed that evening, having compressed more mischief into three days than the average native man crowds into a lifetime.

      It was six months before the result of Bosambo’s extravagance was seen. Sanders came north on a tour of inspection, and in due course he arrived at Shusha.

      All things were in order on the river, and he was satisfied. His experiment had worked better than he had dared to hope.

      “Queen,” he said, as he sat with her in the thatched palaver-house, “you have done well.”

      She smiled nervously.

      “Lord, it is for love of you that I did this,” she said; and Sanders, hardened to flattery, accepted the warmth of her pronouncement without blushing.

      “For I have put away my lovers,” she went on, “and my husband, who is a fool, I have banished to another village; and, my lord, I am your slave.”

      She slipped from the seat which was by her side, and knelt before him in the face of the city and before all the people.

      She grasped his foot with her strong young hands and placed it on her head.

      “Phew!” said Sanders, breaking into a sweat — for by all custom this was not an act of fealty, but the very act of marriage.

      “Stand up, queen!” said the Commissioner when he had got his breath, “lest your people think foolish thoughts.”

      “Lord,” she murmured, “I love you! and Bosambo, your nephew, looks favourably upon our marriage.”

      Sanders said nothing. He reached down, and catching her by the arm, drew her to her feet.

      “Oh, people!” he said loudly to the amazed throng at the foot of the little hill on which the palaver house stood, “your queen is, by her act, wedded to my government, and has sworn to serve me in all matters of queenship — be faithful as she is. The palaver is finished.”

      It was an ingenious escape — though the girl’s eyes narrowed as she faced him, and her bare bosom rose and fell in her anger.

      “Lord,” she breathed, “this was not as I meant.”

      “It is as I mean,” said Sanders gently.

      She faced him for a moment; then, turning swiftly, walked to her hut, and Sanders saw her no more that day.

      “We stay till tomorrow,” said Sanders to his sergeant as he went on board the Zaire that evening. “Afterwards we go to Ochori — I will have a palaver with Bosambo.”

      “Master,” said Abiboo, “Bosambo will be pleased.”

      “I doubt it,” said Sanders.

      He went to bed that night to sleep the sleep of one who had earned the daily two pounds with which a grateful government rewarded him.

      He was dead tired, but not too tired to slip the fine-meshed wire fly-door into its place, or to examine the windows to see if they were properly screened.

      This must be done in the dark, because, if by chance a window or a door is open when a light appears, certain it is that the cabin will be filled with tiny little brothers of the forest, a hundred varieties of flies, winged beetles, and most assuredly musca — which, in everyday language, is the fever-carrying mosquito. With the habit formed of long practice, Sanders’ hand touched the three windows, found the screens in their place and latched.

      Then he switched on the electric light — a luxurious innovation which had come to him with the refitment of the Zaire. Leading from his cabin was a tiny bathroom. He pulled his pyjamas from under his pillow and disappeared into the cupboard — it was nothing more — to reappear at the end of five minutes arrayed in his grey sleeping kit.

      He turned on a light over СКАЧАТЬ