“A good thing you came to me!” I heard.  The accent was clumsy for a man so well versed in tongues.  “Yes, I will give you money at the right time.  Tell me no lies now!  There will be letters coming from people you never saw, and I shall know whether or not you lie to me!  You say there are three of the fools?”

“Yes, bwana.  There were four, but one going home—­big lord gentleman, him having black m’stache, gone home.”

There was no mistaking Hassan’s voice.  No doubt he could speak his mother tongue softly enough, but in common with a host of other people he seemed to imagine that to make himself understood in English he must shout.

“Why did he go home?”

“I don’t know, bwana.”

“Did they quarrel?”

“Sijui."* [* Sijui, I don’t know:  the most aggravating word In Africa, except perhaps bado kidogo, which means “presently,” “bye and bye,” “in a little while.”

“Don’t you dare say ‘sijui’ to me!”

“Maybe they quarrel, maybe not.  They all quarreling with Lady Saffunwardo—­staying in same hotel, Tippoo Tib one time his house—­she wanting maybe go with him to London.  He saying no.  Others saying no.  All very angry each with other an’ throwing bwana masikini, Greek man, down hotel stairs.”

“What had he to do with it?”

“Two Greek man an’ one Goa all after ivory, too.  She—­Lady Saffunwardo afterwards promising pay them three if they come along an’ do what she tell ’em.  They agreeing quick!  Byumby Tippoo Tib hearing bazaar talk an’ sending me along too.  She refuse to take me, all because German consul man knowing me formerly and not making good report, but Greek bwana he not caring and say to me to come along.  Greek people very bad!  No food—­no money—­nothing but swear an’ kick an’ call bad names—­an’ drunk nearly all the time!”

“What makes you think these three men know where the ivory is?” said the German voice.  It was the voice of a man very used to questioning natives—­self-assertive but calm—­going straight each time to the point.

“They having map.  Map having marks on it.”

“How do you know?”

“She—­Lady Saffunwardo go in their bedroom, stealing it last night.”

“Did you see her take it?”

“Yes, bwana.”

“Did you see the marks on it?”

“No, bwana.”

“Then how do you know the marks were on it?  Now, remember, don’t lie to me!”

“Coutlass, him Greek man, standing on stairs keeping watch.  Them three men you call fools all sitting in dining-room waiting because they thinking she come presently.  She send maid to their room.  Maid, fool woman, upset everything, finding nothing.  ‘No,’ she say, ’no map—­no money—­no anything in here.’  An’ Lady Saffunwardo she very angry an’ say, ‘Come out o’ there!  Let me look!’ And Lady Saffunwardo going in, but maid not coming out, an’ they both search.  Then Lady Saffanwardo saying all at once, ‘Here it is.  Didn’t you see this?’ An’ the maid answering, ’Oh, that!  That nothing but just ordinary pocket map!  That not it!’ But Lady Saffunwardo she opening the map, an’ make little scream, an’ say, ‘Idiot!  This is it!  Look!  See!  See the marks!’ So, bwana, I then knowing must be marks on map!”