Whether purposely or not, she cast such a chill upon the company that even Georges Coutlass subsided within himself, and, though he ate like a ravening animal, did not talk.  Almost the only conversation was between the owner and the native servants, who waited at table abominably and were noisily reprimanded, and argued back.  Each reprimand increased their inefficiency and insolence.  Natives detest a fussy, noisy white man.

Bad food, indifferent cooking, and no conversation worthy of the name produced gloom that drove every one from table as soon as possible.  Even the proprietor, with unsatiable curiosity exuding from him, but no spirit for forcing issues, departed to a sanctum of his own up somewhere under the roof.  The boys cleared the tables.  The smell of food spread itself and settled slowly.  A half-breed butler served countless orders of drinks on trays, and sent them upstairs to bedrooms.  Presently we three sat alone in the long bare room.

“Shall we wait for her?” I asked.  “Haven’t we had enough of her?”

Fred laughed.  “She can scarcely cut the throats of all three of us!”

“I said we’d never hear the last of it!” said Will, with a scowl at me.

“Shall we wait for her?” I repeated.

My own vote would have been in favor of going upstairs and leaving her to her own devices.  I could see that Fred was afire with curiosity, but guessed that Will would agree with me.  However, the point was settled for us by the arrival of her maid, who smiled with unusual condescension and produced from a basket an assortment of drinks, nuts, cigarettes and sandwiches.  She spread them on the table and went away again.

We sat and smoked for an hour after that, imagining every moment that Lady Saffren Waldon would be coming.  Whenever we yawned in chorus and rose to go upstairs, a footstep seemed to herald her arrival.  To have passed her on the stairs would have been too awkward to be amusing.

At last we really made up our minds to go to bed; and then she really came, appearing at the bend in the stairs just as I set my foot on the lower step, so we trooped back to our chairs by the window.  She was dressed in a lacy silk negligee, and took pains this time to appear gracious.

“I waited until I felt sure we should not be disturbed,” she said, smiling.  “Won’t you come and sit down?”

We brought our chairs to the table, she sitting at one end and we together at one side, Fred nearest her and I farthest away.  She made a sign toward the wine and sandwiches, and offered us cigarettes of a sort I had never seen.  Without feeling exactly like flies in a spider’s web, we were nervous as schoolboys.

“What do you want with us?” asked Will at last.

She laughed and took a cigarette.

“Don’t let us talk too loud.  You three men are after the Tippoo Tib ivory.  So is the Sultan of Zanzibar.  So is the German government.  So am I”