“Good!” said Fred.  “I agree!”

“The only clue we’ve got,” said I, “is Courtney’s advice about Mount Elgon.”

“And what Coutlass said in Zanzibar about German East,” added Will.

“Tell you what,” said Fred, rapping the table excitedly.  “Instead of falling foul of this government by slipping over the dead-line, why not run down to German East—­pretend to search for the stuff down there—­and go from German East direct to Mount Elgon, giving ’em all the slip.  Who’s got the map?”

“It’s up-stairs,” I said.  “I’ll fetch it.”

There was nothing like silence in the rooms above.  Men were smoking and drinking in one another’s rooms.  Some doors were open to make conversation easier across the landing, and nobody was asleep.  But I was surprised to see Georges Coutlass leaning against the door-post of the room he shared with the other Greek and the Goanese, obviously on guard, but against whom and on whose behalf it was difficult to guess.

“Are you off to bed?” he asked, piercing me with his unbandaged eye.  “Why don’t the others go, too?”

It dawned on me what he was after.

“Take the wine if you want it,” I said.  “None of us will prevent you.”

He went down-stairs in his stocking feet, leaving his own door wide.  I glanced in.  The other Greek and the Goanese were asleep.  Hassan lay on the floor on a mat between their cots.  He looked up at me.  I did not dare speak, but I smiled at him as friendly as I knew how and made a gesture I hoped he would interpret as an invitation to come and attach himself to our party.  Then I hurried on, for Coutlass was coming back with a bottle of wine in each hand.

I was five minutes in our bedroom.  In a minute I knew what had happened.  We had left the door locked, but the lock was a common one; probably the keys of other doors fitted it, and there was not one thing in the room placed exactly where we had left it.  Everything was more or less in place, but nothing quite.

I returned empty-handed down-stairs, locking the bedroom door behind me.

“Listen, you chaps!” I said.  “While we waited for that woman she and her maid went through our things again!”

“How d’you know it was she?” asked Fred.

“No mistaking the scent she uses.  Where’s our money?”

“Here in my pocket.”

“Good.  The map’s gone, though!”

Will showed big teeth in the first really happy smile for several days.

“Good enough!” he said.  “Let’s go to bed now.  I’ll bet you my share of the ivory they’re poring over the map with a magnifying-glass!  D’you remember the various places we underscored?  They’ll think it’s a cryptogram and fret ever it all night!  Come on—­come to bed!”

CHAPTER SIX

THE SONG OF THE GREAT GAME RESERVE