At its eastern end was a doorway or opening closed with a heavy curtain.  Here I paused full of tremors, and listened, for to tell the truth I dreaded to draw that curtain, fearing what I might see within.  Gathering up my courage at length I tore it aside and, a revolver in my hand, looked in.  At first after the strong light without, for the sun was now well up, I could see nothing, since those green boughs and palm leaves were very closely woven.  As my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, however, I perceived a glittering object seated on a kind of throne at the end of the booth, while in a double row in front knelt six white-robed women who seemed to wear chains about their necks and carried large knives slung round their middles.  On the floor between these women and the throne lay a dead man, a priest of some sort as I gathered from his garb, who still held a huge spear in his hand.  So silent were the figure on the throne and those that knelt before it, that at first I thought that all of them must be dead.

“Lady Sad-Eyes,” whispered Hans, “and her bride-women.  Doubtless that old Predikant came to kill her when he saw that the battle was lost, but the bride-women killed him with their knives.”

Here I may state that Hans’ suppositions proved to be quite correct, which shows how quick and deductive was his mind.  The figure on the throne was Inez; the priest in his disappointed rage had come to kill her, and the bride-women had killed him with their knives before he could do so.

I bade the Zulus tear down the curtain and pull away some of the end boughs, so as to let in more light.  Then we advanced up the place, holding our pistols and spears in readiness.  The kneeling women turned their heads to look at us and I saw that they were all young and handsome in their fashion, although fierce-faced.  Also I saw their hands go to the knives they wore.  I called to them to let these be and come out, and that if they did so they had nothing to fear.  But if they understood, they did not heed my words.

On the contrary while Hans and I covered them with our pistols, fearing lest they should stab the person on the throne whom we took to be Inez, at some word from one of them, they bowed simultaneously towards her, then at another word, suddenly they drew the knives and plunged them to their own hearts!

It was a dreadful sight and one of which I never saw the like.  Nor to this day do I know why the deed was done, unless perhaps the women were sworn to the service of the new queen and feared that if they failed to protect her, they would be doomed to some awful end.  At any rate we got them out dead or dying, for their blows had been strong and true, and not one of them lived for more than a few minutes.

Then I advanced to the figure on the throne, or rather foot-stooled chair of black wood inlaid with ivory, which sat so silent and motionless that I was certain it was that of a dead woman, especially when I perceived that she was fastened to the chair with leather straps, which were sewn over with gold wire.  Also she was veiled and, with one exception, made up, if I may use the term, exactly to resemble the lady Ayesha, even down to the two long plaits of black hair, each finished with some kind of pearl and to the sandalled feet.