that is—­to the upper river, and take darned good care he never comes back again.  And, as a point of fact, I did tip a word to the commandant here and get that particular ambassador packed off out of harm’s way.  But that did no special good.  Before a week was through up came another chap to tackle me.  He spoke flatly about pains and penalties if I didn’t give the thing up; and he offered money—­or rather ivory, two fine tusks of it, worth a matter of twenty pounds, as a ransom—­and then I began to open my eyes.”

“Twenty pounds for that ju-ju!  Why, I’ve picked up many a one better carved for a shilling.”

“Well, this bally thing has value; there’s no doubt about that.  But where the value comes in, I can’t make out.  I’ve overhauled it times and again, but can’t see it’s anything beyond the ordinary.  However, if a nigger of his own free will offered two big tusks to get the thing back, it stands to reason it’s worth a precious sight more than that.  So when the second ambassador came, I put the price down at a quarter of a ton of ivory, and waited to get it.”

Kettle whistled.  “You know how to put on the value,” he said.  “That’s getting on for L400 with ivory at its present rates.”

“I was badly in want of money when I set the figure.  My poor little wife in Bradford had sent me a letter by the last Antwerp mail saying how hard-up she was, and the way she wrote regularly touched me.”

“I don’t like it,” Kettle snapped.

“What, my being keen about the money?”

“No; your having such a deuce of a lot of wives.”

“But I am so very domesticated,” said Nilssen.  “You don’t appreciate how domesticated I am.  I can’t live as a bachelor anywhere.  I always like to have a dear little wife and a nice little home to go to in whatever town I may be quartered.  But it’s a great expense to keep them all provided for.  And besides, the law of most countries is so narrow-minded.  One has to be so careful.”

Kettle wished to state his views on bigamy with clearness and point, but when he cast his eyes over the frail wreck of a man in the Madeira chair, he forebore.  It would not take very much of a jar to send Captain Nilssen away from this world to the Place of Reckoning which lay beyond.  And so with a gulp he said instead:  “You’re sure it’s deliberate poisoning?”

“Quite.  The nigger who came here last about the business promised to set ju-ju on me, and I told him to do it and be hanged to him.  He was as good as his word.  I began to be bad the very next day.”

“How’s it managed?”

“Don’t know.  They have ways of doing these things in Africa which we white men can’t follow.”

“Suspect any one?”

“No.  And if you’re hinting at Mrs. Nilssen in the pilotage there, she’s as staunch as you are, bless her dusky skin.  Besides, what little chop I’ve managed to swallow since I’ve been bad, I’ve always got out of fresh unopened tins myself.”