“Good,” replied Alan, “lead me to the Asika.”

Then they started, Alan bearing the box containing Little Bonsa, and Jeekie following after him.  They went down passages and through sundry doors till at length they came to a long and narrow hall that seemed to be lined with plates of gold.  At the end of this hall was a large chair of black wood and ivory placed upon a dais, and sitting in this chair with the light pouring on her from some opening above, was the woman of Alan’s dream, beautiful to look on in her crown and glittering garments.  Upon a stool at the foot of the dais sat a man, a handsome and melancholy man.  His hair was tied behind his head in a pigtail and gilded, his face was painted red, white and yellow; he wore ropes of bright-coloured stones about his neck, middle, arms and ankles, and held a kind of sceptre in his hand.

“Who is that creature?” asked Alan over his shoulder to Jeekie.  “The Court fool?”

“That husband of Asika, Major.  He not fool, very big gun, but look a little low now because his time soon up.  Come on, Major, Asika beckon us.  Get on stomach and crawl; that custom here,” he added, going down on to his hands and knees, as did all the priests who followed them.

“I’ll see her hanged first,” answered Alan in English.

Then accompanied by the creeping Jeekie and the train of prostrate priests, he marched up the long hall to the edge of the dais and there stood still and bowed to the woman in the chair.

“Greeting, white man,” she said in a low voice when she had studied him for a while.  “Do you understand my tongue?”

“A little,” he answered in Asiki, “moreover, my servant here knows it well and can translate.”

“I am glad,” she said.  “Tell me then, in your country do not people go on to their knees before their queen, and if not, how do they greet her?”

“No,” answered Alan with the help of Jeekie.  “They greet her by raising their head-dress or kissing her hand.”

“Ah!” she said.  “Well, you have no head-dress, so kiss my hand,” and she stretched it out towards him, at the same time prodding the man whom Jackie had said was her husband, in the back with her foot, apparently to make him get out of the way.

Not knowing what to do, Alan stepped on to the dais, the painted man scowling at him as he passed.  Then he halted and said: 

“How can I kiss your hand through this mask, Asika?”

“True,” she answered, then considered a little and added, “White man, you have brought back Little Bonsa, have you not, Little Bonsa who ran away with you a great many years ago?”

“I have,” he said, ignoring the rest of the question.

“Your messengers said that you required a present of gold in return for Little Bonsa.  I have sent you one, is it sufficient?  If not, you can have more.”

“I cannot say, O Asika, I have not examined it.  But I thank you for the present and desire porters to enable me to carry it away.”