“On this train?”

“On this train.  Didn’t you see her?  She was watching you chaps through the window slits like the Queen o’ Sheba keepin’ tabs on Solomon.  Say, what’s she doing in this country anyhow?  I made a try to get a seat in her carriage, but she ordered me out like Aunt Jemima puttin’ out the cat the last thing.  She’s got a maid in with her, but the maid ain’t white—­Jew—­Syrian—­Levantine—­Dago—­some such breed.  She’s in this compartment next behind.”

Our eyes met again.  Fred laughed, and Will leaned forward to whisper to me:  “She heard what Courtney said to us about the way to Mount Elgon!”

“D’you know her name?” asked Brown.

“No!” we all three lied together with one voice.

“I do!  I seen it on the reservation card.  Lady Isobel Saffren Waldon! 
 Pretty high-soundin’ patronymic, what?  Lady Isobel Saffren Waldon!”
He repeated the name over and over, crescendo, with growing fervor. 
“What’s a woman with a title doin’ d’you suppose?  The title’s no fake. 
 She’s got the blood all right, all right!  You ought to ha’ heard her
shoo me out!  Lummy!  A nestin’ hen giving the office to a snake
weren’t in it to her an’ me!  Good looker, too!  What’s she doin’ in
East Africa?”

We made no shift to answer.

“The officials’ wives,” he went on, “are keen after Tippoo’s ivory, but, bein’ obliged to stay in the station except when their husbands go on safari, an’ then only go where their husbands go, they’ve no show to speak of.  Pioneer Jane’s nuts on it, an’ she’s dangerous.  Jane’s as likely to find the stuff as any one.  She’s independent—­go where she blooming well pleases—­game as a lioness—­looks like one, too, only a lioness is kind o’ softer an’ not so quick in the uptake.  My money’s on Jane for a place.  But d’you suppose this Lady Saffren Whatshername’s another one?  Them Greeks ahead of us I’m sure of; all the Greeks in Africa are huntin’ for nothin’ else.  But what about the dame?”

“Going to join her husband, perhaps,” suggested Fred to put him off.

“There’s no man o’ that name in British East or Uganda.  I know ’em all—­every one.”

“Father—­brother—­uncle—­nephew—­oh, perhaps she’s just traveling,” said Fred.

“Just traveling my eye!  Titled ladies don’t come ‘just traveling’ in these parts—­not by a sight, they don’t—­not alone!”

He helped himself to more whisky, but had reached the stage where it had no further visible effect on him.

“Anyhow,” he said, wiping the neck of the jar with his hand, “if she kids herself she’ll be let go where she pleases—­why, she kids herself!  It takes Pioneer Jane to trespass where writs don’t run!  Jane goes where her husband don’t dare follow.  The officials don’t say a word.  Y’see there’s no jail where they could stow a white woman and observe the decencies.  So she goes over the borderline