“At night, months ago, in Nairobi, outside the professor’s tent.  I lay under the fly among the loads and listened.  The man came in the dark, and went in the dark.  I did not see him.  I did not hear him called by name.  He must have been an old man.  Speaking Kiswahili, he admitted he knew where the ivory is.  He said he saw it buried, and that he alone survives of all men who buried it.  He promised to lead the professor to the place on condition that the Germans shall release his brother, and his brother’s wife, and two sons whom they keep in prison on a life-sentence.  The professor agreed, but said, ’Wait!  There are first those people who also think they know the secret.  Perhaps they do!  Wait until after I have dealt with them.  Then you shall take me to the place!  After that your criminal relations shall be pardoned!  Here is money.  Go and wait for me at the place we spoke of when we talked before.’”

We each cross-examined him in turn, but could not make him change his story in any essential.  He merely exaggerated the parts that he guessed might please us, and begged to be allowed to run before Schillingschen could break loose and get after him.

By noontime, when we gave him his second meal, Schillingschen had made up his own mind that his case was desperate and called for heroic remedy.

“All right,” he growled.  “I need that diary.  Hand it to me and I’ll tell you how to find what you’re after!”

“You mean about the man who’s to meet you?” suggested Fred blandly.

Schillingschen started as if shot.

“One of your men is an eavesdropper,” Fred assured him with a cheerful nod.  “That plug has been pulled already, Professor!”

“Ley’s play the cards face up!” Will interrupted impatiently.  “Listen, Schillingschen.  You’re an all-in scoundrel.  You’re a spy.  You’re a bloody murderer of women and defenseless natives.  If we could prove that we wouldn’t argue with you.  We know you burned that dhow with the women in it, but we’ve got no evidence, that’s all.  We know the German government wants that ivory, and we know why.  We also want it.  Our only reason for secrecy is that we hope for better terms from the British government.  We’ve nothing to fear, except possible financial loss.  If you prefer to come with us to Kisumu and have the whole matter out in court, all you need do is just say so.  On the other hand, if you want to get out of this country before your diary can reach the hands of the British High Commissioner—­you’d just better slide, that’s all!”

“You’ve only until dawn to think it over,” remarked Fred.  “You poor boob!” continued Will.  “You imagine we’re criminals because you’re one yourself!  The difference between your offer and ours is that you’re bluffing and we know it, whereas we’re not bluffing by as much as a hair, and the quicker you see that the better for you!”

“Oh, rats!  Let’s take him in with us to Kisumu!” said I, and at that Professor Schillingschen capitulated.