“Do you suppose” asked Fred, “that Lord Montdidier has no influence in London, that he—­”

“I know he had influence.  I should have told you first, perhaps.  Lord Montdidier was murdered on board ship.  A telegram reached Mombasa yesterday at ten A.M. from up-coast saying that the body of an unknown, Englishman had been picked up at sea by an Arab dhow, with the face too badly eaten by fish to be recognizable.  You may take it from me, that is Lord Montdidier’s corpse.”

The calm announcement was intended to surprise us, and it did, but the result surprised her.

“You she-devil!” said Will.  “If you and your gang have murdered that fine fellow I’ll turn the tables on you!  You go up-stairs, and pray he isn’t dead!  Pray that corpse may prove to be some one’s else!  If he’s dead I’ll guarantee you it’s the worst day’s work you ever had a hand in!  Go up-stairs!”

He flung away the cigarette she had given him and knocked his chair away.

“Sit down, you young fool!” she said.  “Don’t make all that noise!”

But Will had none of the respect for titles acquired by marriage that made most men an easy mark for her.

“Leave the room!” he ordered.  “Go away from us!  Just you hope that’s a lie about Monty, that’s all!”

“Sit down!” she repeated.  “I admit I am a little previous.  The story is unconfirmed yet.  Sit down and be sensible!  Something of the sort will happen to all of you unless you three men get religion!”

But Will began to pace the floor noisily, stopping to glare at her each time he turned.

“Is there any sense in protracting the scene?” asked Fred.

“No,” she admitted.  “I see you are too hot-headed to be reasoned with.  But it makes little difference!  Fever—­animals&m
dash;­climate—­sun—­flood—­accident—­natives—­there are excuses in plenty—­explanations by the dozen!  I will say good night, then—­and good-by!”

“Yes, good-by!” growled Will, facing her with his back to the stairs.  “You take us for men with a price, do you?”

“All men have a price,” she smiled bitterly.  “Only it is no use offering flowers to pigs!  We must treat pigs another way—­pigs, and young fools!  And fools old enough to know better!” she added with a nod toward Fred, who bowed to her in mock abasement—­too politely, I thought.

Will got out of her way and she went up-stairs with the manner of an empress taking leave of subjects.  Fred swept her food and wine from the table and stowed it in a corner, and we sat down at the table again.

“The whole thing’s getting ridiculous.” he said.

“Why don’t we hunt up some official in the morning,” I proposed, “and simply expose her?”

“No use,” said Will.  “She never followed us up here and tried that game without being sure of her pull.  Besides—­what kind of a tale could we tell without letting on we’re after the ivory?  I vote we see the game through to a finish.”