“Oh, with pleasure,” Umbezi replied nervously, and he gave some orders to certain men behind him.  “I am glad to see that you have become rich in this sudden fashion, Saduko, though how you have done so I cannot understand.”

“Never mind how I have become rich,” answered Saduko.  “I am rich; that is enough for the present.  Be pleased to send for Mameena, for I would talk with her.”

“Yes, yes, Saduko, I understand that you would talk with Mameena; but”—­and he looked round him desperately—­“I fear that she is still asleep.  As you know, Mameena was always a late riser, and, what is more, she hates to be disturbed.  Don’t you think that you could come back, say, to-morrow morning?  She will be sure to be up by then; or, better still, the day after?”

“In which hut is Mameena?” asked Saduko sternly, while I, smelling a rat, began to chuckle to myself.

“I really do not know, Saduko,” replied Umbezi.  “Sometimes she sleeps in one, sometimes in another, and sometimes she goes several hours’ journey away to her aunt’s kraal for a change.  I should not be in the least surprised if she had done so last night.  I have no control over Mameena.”

Before Saduko could answer, a shrill, rasping voice broke upon our ears, which after some search I saw proceeded from an ugly and ancient female seated in the shadow, in whom I recognised the lady who was known by the pleasing name of “Worn-out-Old-Cow.”

“He lies!” screeched the voice.  “He lies.  Thanks be to the spirit of my ancestors that wild cat Mameena has left this kraal for good.  She slept last night, not with her aunt, but with her husband, Masapo, to whom Umbezi gave her in marriage two days ago, receiving in payment a hundred and twenty head of cattle, which was twenty more than you bid, Saduko.”

Now when Saduko heard these words I thought that he would really go mad with rage.  He turned quite grey under his dark skin and for a while trembled like a leaf, looking as though he were about to fall to the ground.  Then he leapt as a lion leaps, and seizing Umbezi by the throat, hurled him backwards, standing over him with raised spear.

“You dog!” he cried in a terrible voice.  “Tell me the truth or I will rip you up.  What have you done with Mameena?”

“Oh!  Saduko,” answered Umbezi in choking tones, “Mameena has chosen to get married.  It was no fault of mine; she would have her way.”

He got no farther, and had I not intervened by throwing my arms about Saduko and dragging him back, that moment would have been Umbezi’s last, for Saduko was about to pin him to the earth with his spear.  As it proved, I was just in time, and Saduko, being weak with emotion, for I felt his heart going like a sledge-hammer, could not break from my grasp before his reason returned to him.

At length he recovered himself a little and threw down his spear as though to put himself out of temptation.  Then he spoke, always in the same terrible voice, asking: