“That is what I did—­and undid.  I made friends.  Soon I had all the other junior officials in a state of mind to help me if they could.  Then I began to inquire for Hassan.  They drew the dragnet tight, and discovered him at Nairobi!  A young assistant district superintendent of police, who will rise in the service, I hope, before long, discovered a woman—­who was jealous of a man—­who was just then making love to the dusky damsel particularly favored by Hassan; and in that roundabout way we discovered that Hassan intended to take a trip very soon toward Mount Elgon, where, if you please, he was to take part in Professor Schillingschen’s ethnological studies.  On condition that he held his tongue until I gave him leave to talk, I promised that young policeman—­to put him en rapport with Schillingschen’s doings as swiftly as may be.  Then I returned to Mombasa, and got your code letter saying you would head this way.  It all fitted in like a game of chess.”

“How in the world did you get that letter so soon?” demanded Fred.  “The missionary chap was to mail it in Ujiji, via Salisbury, Rhodesia.”

“I suppose he simply didn’t do that, that’s all,” Monty answered.  “The bank manager told me he received it in the mission mail bag—­from Ujiji, yes, but by way of Muanza, Tabora, and Dar es Salaam.  It reached me in the nick of time.  I must have been marching nearly parallel with you chaps for about a week!”

“If coincidence of evidence means anything,” said Will “we’re all on a red-hot scent!  That Baganda we have in our outfit is our prisoner.  One of Schillingschen’s pet pimps.  He swears Hassan—­or rather some old native whose name he doesn’t know—­was to meet Schillingschen in these parts and lead him to where he actually helped bury the ivory, years ago!”

“We may have difficulty finding him,” said I.  “Mount Elgon’s big!”

“What about Brown?” asked Monty.  “I hope you haven’t made him partner? 
 I agree, of course, if you have, but I hope not!”

“Nothing doing!”

“No.  Why should we?”

“Brown’s all right, but a present ought to satisfy him.”

We began to tell Monty about Brown’s cattle that Coutlass stole, and the Masai looted from Coutlass and us.

“Were they branded?” asked Monty.

“Branded and hoof- and ear-marked,” said I.

“Then they ought to be traceable, even among the huge herds the Masai have.  I think I’ve influence enough by this time with this government to have those cattle traced and returned to Brown.”

“They’re his only love!” said I.  “Do that for him, and he’ll never wait to receive a present!”

Dawn found us still recounting our adventures and Monty alternately laughing and frowning.

“I regret Coutlass” he said, shaking the ashes from his pipe at last when Kazimoto brought our breakfast.  “I regretted having to throw him out of the hotel in Zanzibar.  I wish he could have escaped with his life—­a picturesque scoundrel if ever there was one!  I’d rather be robbed by him than flattered by ten Schillingschens or Lady Saffren Waldons.  I suppose if I’d been with you I’d have killed him.  It’s well I wasn’t.  I might have regretted it all my days!”