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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78276-0.txt b/78276-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ccf6c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/78276-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10304 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78276 *** + + + + + BRIDE OF THE NIGHT + + BY + LOUISE GERARD + + + + + NEW YORK + THE MACAULAY COMPANY + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + Copyright, 1930 + By Louise Gerard + + + + + [DEDICATION] + + To My Friend + Dorothea Thornton Clarke, F.R.G.S., + _without whose help and constant encouragement + neither this nor any of my books would + have been written_ + + + + + [EPIGRAPH] + + _Wild winds! What are the wild winds?_ + _They are love and hate and lust and avarice._ + _Wild winds that blow through the kingdom of the soul,_ + _Catching us we know not when,_ + _Carrying us we know not where._ + + + + + PART ONE + + “Men will call me unrelenting, + Pitiless, vindictive, stern, + Few will raise a voice dissenting, + Few will better things discern.” + + + + + CHAPTER I + + “_Shall we count offences or coin excuses,_ + _Or weigh with scales the soul of a man?_” + +Dr. Atherley’s bungalow was the resort of British officials who +passed through Duke Town on their way to and from various posts in +West Africa. It was an ugly, hygienic structure of corrugated iron +situated on the more civilized side of the Calabar River, facing an +expanse of sullen, slow-flowing water on the far bank of which was an +endless stretch of mangrove and pandanus swamp. + +One day when Atherley returned home from a round of duties at the +military hospital, on his veranda he found an acquaintance--an officer +from up-country. + +“Hello, Fletcher, have you caught your Hyena yet?” he said by way of +greeting. + +The question brought a look of mingled chagrin and regret to Captain +Lindsay Fletcher’s sun-bitten face. The “Hyena” was a mysterious negro +sultan, a notorious raider, so-called because of his tribal cry; and +for some years the captain had been trying to run him to earth. + +“I haven’t,” he replied, “but he’s caught and tortured to death +another of my juniors, young Dennis.” + +Atherley poured out a dose of whiskey from a bottle standing on a +table near. + +“That nigger is the very devil,” he remarked. + +“I’d give ten years of my life to catch him,” Fletcher said fervently. + +“Have you ever thought of looking for him in unlikely places?” + +“I’ve looked into every hole and corner of my various districts.” + +“Why not spread your net a little farther?” + +Captain Fletcher was lying at his ease on a long cane lounge. The +doctor’s question made him sit up smartly. + +“Have you heard anything?” he questioned quickly. + +“Not a thing! But your Hyena interests me. He seems to me a bit too +clever to be wholly a product of the wilds. There’s a nigger in this +town whose record isn’t any too healthy. It struck me it might be +worth your while to probe into his intimate affairs.” + +Although Duke Town was hundreds of miles away from the scenes of the +mysterious negro chieftain’s raids and massacres, Fletcher did not +scoff at his friend’s suggestions. + +“Who’s your suspect?” he asked, all attention. + +Atherley settled his shriveled, sun-dried self in a long chair. + +“His name is Essel Lebrassa. He’s a mulatto. Senior--” + +“I always said there was more than a nigger’s brain behind the Hyena’s +tactics,” Fletcher interrupted. + +“Not so fast. I’m not accusing Lebrassa. I’m only saying--” + +“Oh, cut out the preaching and give me full particulars,” Fletcher +said with open impatience. + +“This Essel Lebrassa is a better educated man than any one here +present. He’s the senior partner of the firm of Lebrassa and Cooper. +Cooper, by the way, is coal black. They’re enormously wealthy, both of +them. Lebrassa holds all sorts of weird, wild orgies in that villa of +his on the hill here. And he has a whole harem of colored mistresses. +What’s more, he hates a white skin like poison.” + +By now Fletcher was weighing facts carefully. + +“But none of that points to his having any connection with the fiend +who periodically raids our up-country districts,” he said in a +despondent manner. + +“I’m getting there,” Atherley replied. + +He took a sip of whiskey. + +“Occasionally this Lebrassa disappears for months on end,” he +continued. “Presumably he goes to Europe or America. But I heard from +Harding that this buck nigger, who was supposed to be in England last +year, joined the outward bound steamer not in Liverpool, but in Lagos! +And last year the Hyena was busy in your district.” + +“I should rather think he was!” Fletcher said feelingly. “Massacred +half my _Hausas_, not to mention poor Dennis, and raided and burned a +score of my villages. But this Lagos incident doesn’t prove anything. +Lebrassa may have come out by some previous boat and got off there on +business.” + +“He may have,” Atherley agreed. “But that little fact made me look +into things. And it seems queer that _all_ Lebrassa’s absences +coincide with the times when the Hyena gets busy. Anyhow, he left here +last week, presumably for England, even mentioning the town he was +bound for--Harrogate. As you’re going home by the next steamer, it +might be worth your while to see if Lebrassa really is there as +reported.” + +“What’s he like?” Fletcher asked. + +“A big chap. Bigger than you, and that’s saying something. Age, about +forty. Not so bad-looking, either, even according to European +standards.” + +These remarks left Fletcher thoughtful. + +“The description tallies,” he said at length, “except that the Hyena +is black as soot, but dye could turn a brown skin ebony. And +considering he’s been a thorn in the flesh of three governments for +twenty years, he can’t be altogether a chicken.” + +“Exactly. That’s why I mentioned this Essel Lebrassa to you. With no +clue at all as to who and what the Hyena really is, or where he comes +from, the merest suspicion is worth following.” + +“It certainly makes it worth my while looking in at Harrogate. And if +Lebrassa isn’t there. Well--” + +Fletcher broke off, and lapsed into thoughtful silence. + + + + + CHAPTER II + + “_Thus we know not the day, nor the morrow,_ + _Nor yet what a night may bring forth,_ + _Nor the storm, nor the sleep, nor the sorrow,_ + _Nor the strife, nor the rest, nor the wrath._” + +In the winter garden of a big hotel in Harrogate the visitors were +assembling for tea. One couple sat apart from the rest of the guests; +they were the object of many curious and contemptuous glances. The +girl was about twenty-seven. She had a weak, worn face, dreamy, gray +eyes, and a mass of golden hair. Her companion was a coal-black negro, +ostentatiously dressed, who hung over her with an air of possession. + +A stir at the far end of the room made her turn to a man near, who was +leaning against a pillar watching the assembly in a bored manner. + +He was a mulatto of the best type, verging on forty, well but quietly +dressed. He stood nearly six feet three in height, but his massive +shoulders made him appear less tall than he really was. His was a +powerful face, European in feature. The negro taint showed only in the +pale brown of his skin, and a peculiar blueness in the whites of his +eyes. + +“Mr. Lebrassa, I think that’s the post,” she said. “Please go and see +if there are any letters for me.” + +The request brought his eyes to the couple. + +“With pleasure, Miss Seaton,” he replied. + +His voice was that of a man of culture; in it was no trace of the +stilted, jerky intonation usual with his kind. + +Lebrassa passed through the winter garden into a lounge hall beyond, +where the letters were being sorted. On making his request he received +one addressed to “Miss Molly Seaton”--a letter in a flaming crimson +envelope. + +The unusual color made him look at it with some curiosity. As he +turned it over a name written across the flap caught his eye. + + + “Leslie Graham.” + + +On seeing it, he started as if suddenly stung, and from his lips there +came a fierce, smothered exclamation of astonishment and triumph. + +For a moment he stood with the missive crushed to a red streak in his +hand. Then slipping it into his pocket he went back to the +winter-garden. + +At his return Molly looked up anxiously. + +“Is there nothing for me?” she questioned quickly. + +“No. Nothing.” + +She sighed, and the dreary look on her face deepened. + +The mulatto watched her closely. + +“You’re disappointed,” he said. + +“I was hoping to get a letter from a friend in Paris.” + +Presently Lebrassa left the winter garden, and made his way upstairs +to his private sitting-room. Once there he locked the door. Seating +himself in front of the fire, he opened the scarlet letter. + +As he drew out the contents a photograph fell to the floor. This he +picked up and glanced at. Then putting the picture on the table by his +side he started the letter. + +It had a Paris address and ran as follows: + + + _My Own Darling Molly_, + + Things have gone our way at last! I can see your dear eyes opening + when you receive this startling epistle, startling as regards color + and contents. It is the red letter day of my career, so I speculated + in a box of this glowing carmine to celebrate the occasion. + + How does £300 a year sound for me, Leslie Graham? At one time living + on your bounty, Molly mine. I can’t believe it’s really true, yet + provided you come with me the job is mine. It means so much. It means + we can always be together now. It means you won’t have to do another + day’s work. It means space and color and fresh air and sunshine, all + the things you must have and that we’ve always wanted. It really means + I’ve got a job as foreign correspondence clerk to a shipping firm in + Marseilles. + + My gift for languages, the only thing I inherited from my dear old + dissipated father, is going to prove as useful to me as it was to him. + It found him a job in every corner of the earth, and if it does the + same for me we shall get round the world, Molly mine, and your silly + old lungs will behave themselves properly in sunny climes. + + Now I’ll give you the whole campaign. + + When I last wrote I gave you an inkling of it. I stood as good a + chance as anyone. I had every qualification they wanted. For two weeks + I waited, getting sicker and sicker every day. Messieurs Dupont, + Baroche et Cie. made no acknowledgment of my existence. Imagine my + surprise and delight when with my coffee and rolls this morning came a + letter from the firm, requesting me to present myself at their Paris + office at my earliest convenience. + + You may be sure I went, tout suite. They examined me in all the + required languages and I came off with flying colors. Then they tested + my shorthand, bookkeeping and typewriting, and finally had an inquest + on my testimonials. + + Unfortunately I had one great fault--I was very young. + + Then, Molly mine, I told them all about you. That settled it. They + were no longer the Inquisition, burning to find some flaw in my + composition, qualifications and testimonials, but two really nice, + bald-headed, old gentlemen, quite anxious to entrust their foreign + correspondence in my keeping provided you are there to vouch for my + respectability and keep me anchored to my job. + + So, Molly, old thing, in the near future, I hope we shall have a + little place all our very own by the sunny Mediterranean. I’m coming + to see you on Saturday, and I shall land up at your hotel in time for + dinner. So-long. + + Always your loving + Leslie. + + P.S. Enclosed is a photograph of our little lot, so you will see hard + work has not aged me beyond recognition. L.G. + + +Lebrassa read the letter through a second time. Then he got to his +feet and went to Cooper’s room. In shirt sleeves the negro was seated +before a mirror, vigorously brushing his wool. + +On seeing the mulatto he got to his feet. + +“Well, Cooper, have you fixed up with your little white girl yet?” +Lebrassa asked. + +For a moment the negro stared at his visitor in blank astonishment, as +if the question were the last he had expected. Then a look of hungry +passion came to his face. + +“I wish to God I had,” he answered. + +“There should be no difficulty,” Lebrassa said. “She’s a weak, +easily-persuaded creature. I’ve a reason for wanting her married to +you by next Saturday.” + +“But that only gives me three days,” Cooper said in a despondent +manner. + +“Well, if you don’t make her overlook your color before the week is +out, there’ll be very little chance for you. An Englishman is coming +here on Saturday whose desire is much the same as yours. I’m going to +interview him, and I want to tell him among other things that his +proposed fiancée has eloped with a nigger. If he’s anything like his +father, the news should prove a trifle disconcerting.” + +In wild excitement the negro took a step forward. + +“Not de Tourville’s son!” he exclaimed. + +“Every circumstance points to it. He bears an alias Lionel de +Tourville adopted, and possessed a father as dissipated, moreover a +man who had been to most parts of the world.” + +“Then vengeance is ours at last!” Cooper yelled. + +“Possibly,” Lebrassa answered, coolly. “However, this man’s fate is my +concern alone. Yours is to carry out my wishes.” + +“What about Nanza?” Cooper asked. “He will want a hand in this.” + +At the mention of the name the mulatto’s eyes narrowed. + +“Nanza!” he said contemptuously. “What of him?” + +With a savage, brooding air, Lebrassa returned to his own quarters. + +On entering, the photograph lying on the table took his attention. +Again he picked it up. Across the back was written in a small, firm +hand: + + + “Puzzle, find Leslie Graham.” + + +He glanced at the picture. It was a group of eight young people, five +men and three girls. + +A girl’s face took his attention. She was hardly more than a child, +delicate and refined-looking, who was smiling out at the world in rare +good fellowship and kindliness. And it seemed to Lebrassa her smile +was directed at _him_! + +His glance went from her to the young men. At each in turn he looked, +wondering with which he had to deal. Then his gaze came back to the +girl’s face and stayed there. Until the dinner gong sounded, he sat +looking at it, wondering bitterly if she would smile at him in such a +friendly manner if she knew he was a “nigger.” + +When the dinner gong went booming through the big hotel, he tore off +the rest of the photograph and threw it into the fire. But the small, +smiling, friendly face he put carefully into his pocket-book. + + + + + CHAPTER III + + “_It may be my fancy and nothing more._” + +In the lounge hall of the hotel the visitors were assembling. +Gathered in little groups, they were talking, smoking and drinking +cocktails before going in for dinner. Half hidden in an archway that +led to the winter garden, was a girl in a cheap black evening frock. + +She was small and slight, with a fair, delicate complexion and big, +dark-fringed eyes almost startling in their vivid blueness. Her wavy +black hair was worn in thick, tight coils round her ears. There was a +tired droop about her childish figure, and deep dark rings under eyes +that scanned each late-comer anxiously. + +A voice speaking almost at her elbow brought her attention to a couple +of men near. + +“That’s the fifth nigger I’ve counted within the last five minutes. +The place is creeping with them. A nigger wild is the devil’s own +production, and to see the beast dressed up like yourself is +absolutely sickening.” + +In surprise, the girl glanced at the speaker. He was a tall, sunburnt +man who looked like an officer home on leave from tropic parts. She +wondered why he should have spoken just when that big mulatto was in +the act of passing. Several other colored people had gone by, but he +had made no comments about them, and they all had been more obviously +“niggers” than the man at whom the remarks were leveled. + +She looked at the mulatto, knowing he must have heard, and then back +at the Englishman who seemed bent on insulting him. + +With a casual, indifferent glance at Fletcher, Lebrassa passed on. +Halting a yard or so away, he stood talking to a few other colored +people. + +“There’s a pretty crowd of buck niggers for you,” Fletcher went on, +with the same loud, offensive manner. “It’s bad enough to have to deal +with them in the land set apart for their sort, but to rub shoulders +with them in England is the limit.” + +It was impossible for the group not to hear what he said. With +smothered hatred one or two negroes glanced at him, but Lebrassa +ignored him and his remarks completely. + +With indignation the girl glanced at Fletcher. Whatever his private +opinion of negroes might be, it was the height of bad taste to insult +them publicly. Yet, in spite of his flagrant rudeness, it struck her +the Englishman was a type who ought to have known better. + +Fletcher showered further abuse on the group of colored men--abuse +that drew all eyes but Lebrassa’s to him. + +Suddenly the girl moved forward. + +An unexpected voice took Fletcher’s attention from the scheme on +hand--an effort to break through the mask of bored indifference +screening Lebrassa’s face. + +“You ought not to talk in that manner,” a sweet voice said with +trembling indignation. “They can’t help their color. And you don’t +show your superiority by being rude to them.” + +Lebrassa glanced at the girl, amazed that she should speak in defence +of his color. Her face was vaguely familiar. He wondered who she was, +and where he had seen her before. + +In sudden interest, his mask of indifference dropped. On his face was +the haughty arrogance of a savage ruler. + +Brief as the unveiling was, it brought a glint of satisfaction to +Fletcher’s eyes. He had wanted to catch Lebrassa off his guard, and +the girl’s defence had succeeded where his own abuse had failed. + +With some amusement he looked at her. + +“Really!” he said. “Do you honestly think niggers have feelings that +could be damaged by my remarks?” + +“This is neither the time nor the place to discuss the subject,” she +answered. + +Then she turned quickly into the winter garden. + +She was sorry she had spoken. Her interference had done no good, and +it had drawn unwelcome attention to herself. + +Going to a secluded corner, she sat down and tried to compose herself. + +Presently, voices talking on the other side of the greenery reached +her. + +“Well?” one asked. + +“I’m pretty certain I’m on the right trail this time.” + +“Nonsense! He bears no resemblance to the Hyena.” + +“The resemblance is as much as any one could swear to after glimpsing +that brute for a moment in the heat of a midnight ambush, and meeting +this man three years later, in the dinner garb of civilization with a +skin considerably lighter. Besides the look he gave when that little +girl spoke was familiar.” + +“You see the Hyena in every nigger over six foot,” was the scoffing +reply. + +“So would you, if you’d had to clean up after him as I have. Of course +the resemblance may be a matter of coincidence. For all that I’d like +to give him a coat of black paint and a covering no bigger than a +handkerchief and see what I thought of him then.” + +“What’s that nigger supposed to be?” + +“A palm-oil trader, from Calabar, Southern Nigeria. Essel Lebrassa by +name. Atherley told me about him, and I came here for the sole purpose +of having a look at him.” + +“Calabar is far enough from the Hyena’s beat.” + +“I’m inclined to think he’s had a finger in every rising in the length +and breadth of West Africa for the last twenty years.” + +All at once it dawned on the girl she was eavesdropping. To give +evidence of her presence, she moved her chair. The sudden sharp scrape +along the floor made the voices stop abruptly. + +Presently two men came sauntering down the leafy alley where she was +sitting. One of them was the sunburnt Englishman whose behavior had +aroused her indignation some minutes previously. + +On seeing him she realized the topic of their conversation must have +been the big mulatto who had won her admiration by his quiet disregard +of the Englishman’s rudeness. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + “_How, let me ask, will it end?_” + +When the girl in black turned into the winter garden, Lebrassa was +conscious of only one thing--a desire to follow and find out who she +was. Then the approach of a page took his attention to other matters. + +On the salver the boy held was a telegram. Lebrassa opened and read +the message. It was from Cooper, saying he had married Molly Seaton by +special license in Liverpool that morning. + +Putting it into his pocket, Lebrassa turned towards the page. + +“Have there been any inquiries for Miss Seaton?” he asked. + +“Not that I know of, sir.” + +Lebrassa glanced at his wrist watch. + +It was quite possible the London train was late. Leslie Graham might +not have arrived yet. + +“If any one inquires for Miss Seaton, send him to 19 on the first +floor,” he said. + +“I’ll tell the porter, sir,” the boy replied. + +Lebrassa left the hall and went upstairs to his own private +sitting-room. It was as silent as the tomb except for the ticking of a +clock and the occasional rattle of a cinder on the hearth. The solid +door, with its rubber beading and heavy curtain, prevented any noise +from entering. And, equally, any noise in the room would not reach the +world’s ears. + +This last fact must have been in his mind, for the lines of cruelty +about his mouth deepened to absolute savagery as he stood waiting for +the coming of Leslie Graham. + +Suddenly the door swung open. + +For a second time that night Lebrassa forgot the business on hand. + +Standing on the threshold was the girl who had been his champion +barely twenty minutes before. + +On seeing him, she came to an abrupt halt, staring at him in blank +amazement. Then she made a backward movement. + +The action roused him. + +He crossed the room hastily. + +“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked quickly. + +“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I must have got to the wrong room. I’m +afraid I startled you, bursting in like that.” + +“You didn’t startle me in the least,” he replied, smiling at her. “And +if you tell me what room you want, perhaps I can put you right.” + +“In the bureau they said I was to go to 19 on the first floor. But +they must have given me the wrong number.” + +She had recognized Lebrassa as the man who had been the butt of +Fletcher’s rudeness. This second meeting left her wondering at his +cultured voice and well-bred ease of manner. And it also brought a +desire to show him that all English people were not so rude and +offensive as the man who had attacked him in the hall. + +Lebrassa’s next remark put a means of compensation into her hands. + +“You look very tired,” he said. “Let me go down to the bureau and see +if I can solve the mystery for you.” + +“It’s most kind of you,” she said gratefully. + +“I’m glad to be of any assistance. Won’t you sit down in the +meantime?” + +Crossing to the fireplace, he drew one of the big, comfortable chairs +closer. In a way that was vaguely familiar she smiled at him. Then, +with an air of suppressed weariness, she seated herself. + +He leant against the chimney-piece, toying with a little metal vase +there. At that moment only one fact had any place in his mind. By some +lucky chance the girl who so interested him had strayed into his room, +and he wanted to keep her as long as possible. + +“Whom shall I ask for?” he inquired. + +“I’m trying to find Miss Seaton.” + +The name brought his thoughts back to the man he was expecting. + +He scanned his visitor more closely. She was a gentlewoman, Molly +Seaton a very ordinary type of lower middle-class girl clerk. He +wondered what the two had in common and how they came to be friends. + +“Who shall I say is inquiring?” he asked. + +“Leslie Graham.” + +A tense, quivering pause greeted her statement. The little brass vase +he was toying with crumpled up like an eggshell as his hand clenched +round it. He stood as though pressing backwards, with his whole +strength, against some wild flood that would have swept him on towards +the girl. + +“Leslie Graham,” he repeated, in a thick, strained voice. + +“You seem surprised,” she said. + +“I always thought it was a man’s name,” he said in the same husky way. + +“It can be a girl’s too,” she explained. “In fact I’m called after my +father.” + +“I’ve never heard it as a girl’s name,” he said hoarsely. “Years ago I +knew a boy of the name. He would be about grown up, twenty or +twenty-one now. I wonder if he was a relative of yours?” + +“I had a brother called Leslie, but he died before my day. So he +couldn’t have been the boy you mean. Though he would have been about +twenty-one now,” she added reflectively. + +Lebrassa changed the conversation. + +“This is hardly finding your friend for you,” he remarked. + +With a quick, fierce movement he turned from her, and went downstairs +to make inquiries he knew would be useless. + +When he came back, a few minutes later, all trace of his surprise had +vanished. + +“They tell me, Miss Graham, that your friend left here early this +morning for Liverpool and hasn’t returned yet.” + +“That’s what they told me. And I can’t make it out at all. It’s so +strange she should have gone the very day she knew I’d be coming.” + +“Probably she intended to return much earlier, and somehow missed her +train,” he suggested. + +A look of relief greeted this idea. + +“How stupid of me not to think of that! When is the next train due?” + +Going to his desk, Lebrassa picked up a railway guide. + +“There’s one at half-past eight,” he said a moment or so later. “As +you’ve quite half an hour to wait, a very sensible way of passing the +time would be by having some dinner. You must be both tired and hungry +after your long journey.” + +With some surprise Leslie looked at him. + +“How do you know I’ve had a long journey?” + +Lebrassa was conscious of having made a slip. However, he covered it +up very quickly. + +“The porter said a lady from Paris was inquiring for Miss Seaton. +Naturally I assumed it was you.” + +“But why was I sent here?” + +In spite of himself a wish to stand well with his visitor seized +Lebrassa--a desire to keep her from learning he had taken the scarlet +letter. + +“I rather expected a friend this evening. Probably the porter mixed up +the names,” he said suavely. + +In a friendly way Leslie smiled at him. + +“It’s very good of you to have taken so much trouble on my account,” +she said. + +She got to her feet. + +“It’s been a pleasure, not a trouble,” he assured her. “And I’m hoping +you’ll let me have that pleasure a little longer. I’m a solitary +animal with no defined social status--a sort of rogue elephant usually +left to my own devices. Will you relieve my solitude to-night, and +dine with me?” + +His request filled her with dismay. All she had heard earlier in the +evening concerning his sort and color flashed back to her mind. It was +one thing to stand up for a despised race on an impulse, but quite +another to dine tête-à-tête with a “nigger” under the gaze of +nearly two hundred people. + +This Leslie realized when Lebrassa issued his invitation. + +He saw the dismay on her face, and the bitter, cruel lines about his +mouth deepened. + +Then her innate sense of justice brought other thoughts to her head. + +It wasn’t fair to condemn him for a cause no fault of his own. His +manners and style were perfect. No prince could be better behaved. He +couldn’t help his color. He had been very hard hit once that evening. +If she refused his invitation, he would guess why. + +She cast a quick glance at him as he loomed, big, over her, his bored +face showing nothing of what was passing in his mind. + +To the girl he seemed vaguely familiar; as if behind him lurked the +shadow of some one she knew. She had the queer feeling, too, that she +must be kind to him, for a reason quite apart from the insults heaped +on him by that man in the hall; as if there was something between them +that demanded her pity and understanding. + +The feeling made her decide in his favor. + +Just when Lebrassa was expecting a refusal she looked up at him. + +“I’m quite grateful to you for asking me,” she said. “I don’t know a +soul here, and I hate going into a strange dining-room alone.” + +It was a gracious and cordial acceptance. + +It appeared to leave him a trifle nonplussed, almost as if he would +rather she had said “no” and so given him some grievance against her. + +When Leslie entered the dining-room she was well aware that her +unusual companion caused more than the average number of curious eyes +to be turned in her direction. As she went up the room, Lebrassa in +her wake, she knew two men, both slightly familiar, were scanning her +closely. + +Whilst Lebrassa gave his order to the waiter, Leslie studied the +couple. All at once it dawned on her they were the two whose +conversation she had overheard in the winter garden. + +“Mr. Lebrassa, can you tell me who those men are?” she asked, glancing +at the watching couple. + +At her question his eyes narrowed. With veiled suspicion he watched +her, wondering how she knew his name and why she should ask him to +identify that special pair. + +“All I know about them is that the taller one is the man who tried to +pick a quarrel with me just before dinner,” he said cautiously. + +“I’d recognize _him_, but I was wondering who and what they were.” + +“I’ll do my best to find out for you.” + +Beckoning the head waiter, Lebrassa made inquiries. + +“The taller one, sir, is a Captain Fletcher. The other a Mr. Mellors. +They came here this afternoon, from Liverpool. Just home from Northern +Nigeria.” + +Lebrassa gave Leslie time to digest this information. + +Then, watching her closely, he said: + +“I’m curious to know who told you my name.” + +The underlying tone of command in his voice surprised Leslie. She +wondered why he should take so seriously a subject she had broached +out of sheer nervousness. + +Considering the happenings of the evening, and that she was in a way +indebted to him for the trouble he had taken over Molly’s absence, she +had no wish that he should learn how very much she would rather _not_ +have accepted his invitation. This, combined with nervousness, made +her treat him in the friendly way she would have treated a man of her +own class and color. + +Her face assumed a gravity equalling his. But in spite of all efforts +a dimple twitched into her left cheek. + +“They told me. In fact, they told me quite a lot of dreadful things +about you, but I was so worried that I’d forgotten all about it. +Seeing them reminded me.” + +The suspicious, thoughtful look in Lebrassa’s eyes deepened. + +“If you’re on such friendly terms with them as to discuss me +wholesale, why did you put me to the trouble of finding out their +names?” + +“I don’t know them any more than you do. Quite accidentally I +overheard them talking about you.” + +His dark, compelling eyes were fixed on her tired face as if all the +power of his will were behind them. + +“What were they saying about me?” he asked in a casual manner. + +Leslie was too tired and worried to realize she was being “pumped.” + +“They were connecting you with some one called the Hyena, whoever he +may be. But I’ve forgotten most of what they said,” she replied. + +With a little grating noise the mulatto’s teeth set. + +“They flattered me,” he said a moment later. + +“In what way?” + +“The Hyena, Miss Graham, is the nom-de-guerre of the most +blood-thirsty villain in West Africa, so-called from his tribal cry--a +man three Governments have been after for years. He’s the ruler of a +band of miscreants whose headquarters haven’t yet been discovered. A +savage African sultan with a price on his head, who is always ready to +take a hand in any and every rising against the whites, to raid and +burn and do murder, for no reason that can be discovered, unless a +sheer hatred of their color.” + +“He sounds a very terrible person. How absurd of them to think you +might be the man. Whatever made them do that?” + +“I really don’t know. However, if they persist in their opinion, I +shall have no difficulty in convincing them otherwise.” + +He turned the conversation. + +As the meal went on he sat listening to Leslie’s voice, watching her +small, white hands. A wild desire to laugh aloud seized him as he +realized she was his enemy, whom he had sworn to kill, the daughter of +a man who had injured him irreparably. This scrap of a girl who had +spoken in defence of _him_ and his color; who rather than hurt his +feelings had swallowed her pride and accepted his invitation to +dinner. + +He studied her closely. In no way did she resemble her dead father. +The girl Cooper had married was more like that thief and murderer. + +Then a surge of wild negro hatred went coursing through Lebrassa at +the thought of who and what Leslie was. With it came the desire to +take her by the throat and wring the life out of her. + +And through the surge of savage anger her voice reached him, talking +in a frank, friendly manner, and gradually the wild flood subsided, +leaving him chill and thoughtful. + +Presently he was watching her in a strained, anxious way, thankful +that only he knew the alias Lionel de Tourville had adopted, of the +fact of the son’s death, and of the existence of this daughter. + +Then he remembered that Cooper had married her friend. The negro might +gather enough to connect the man whose visit to the hotel he, +Lebrassa, had spoken of, and this girl. + +The idea made the lines of thought on his powerful face deepen. + +A further remark of Leslie’s penetrated the maze in which his mind was +moving. + +“It’s nearly half past eight,” she was saying with an air of +suppressed relief. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be in the hall +when Miss Seaton comes in.” + +Getting to her feet, with a friendly nod she left the table. + +As she went down the room, Lebrassa stood with his eyes on her. + +For a brief half hour a girl of a type as far beyond his reach as the +stars, had sat and talked to him just as if he were as other men. + +Lionel de Tourville’s daughter! + +Loath to leave the table that seemed still sweet with her presence, he +seated himself again. + +A violet, that must have dropped from the bunch on her shoulder, lay +half hidden in a dish of fruit. + +Picking it out he held it almost caressingly. The faint perfume +reached him. For a time he looked at the little flower thoughtfully. +Then he crushed it fiercely, rubbing it up and down between his thumb +and finger until only a purple stain remained. Yet the scent was +sweeter and stronger than ever. + + + + + CHAPTER V + + “_Our hopes are wild imaginings,_ + _Our schemes are airy castles._” + +Leslie Graham and Molly Seaton were comrades of some years’ +standing, who had met under unusual circumstances. Business had taken +Molly to one of the big London railway stations. On a bench in the +waiting room she noticed a child sitting all alone. The little girl +looked worried, so Molly had asked what the matter was. A sweet voice +that had taken Molly’s gentle heart by storm had explained the +situation. + +That day she and her father had arrived in England from New Zealand. +He had left her in the station while he went to transact some business +outside. He had said he would not be more than an hour, and she was to +wait on the seat until he came back. Three hours had passed and he had +not returned. + +That night a black-haired little girl cried herself to sleep in +Molly’s arms, in a bed-sitting-room Brixton way, and the elder Leslie +Graham’s disappearance had been reported to the police. + +A week passed, but nothing was heard of him. Molly was advised to get +rid of the child. This she refused to do, for Leslie clung to her as +the one sure thing in a world suddenly turned upside down. + +Very little of the lost man’s history could be found out, and that +little was mostly what his daughter had to tell. Leslie had spent the +first ten years of her life in a Spanish convent. She had not seen her +father until two years ago when he had taken her from school to the +store in New Zealand where he was employed. Beyond the fact that he +belonged to the army of educated wastrels drifting about the world, +nothing more was culled. It was more than likely the name was an +assumed one, for Leslie had never heard of any relatives--except a +brother who had died before she was born. + +A deserted child is not of rare occurrence or much account. Molly was +advised to let her protegée go to the poorhouse. She refused to do +so. Instead, for two years she kept the little girl. + +When Leslie was fourteen, she secured employment as a typist in +Molly’s office, but she did not rest long in this position. Her +knowledge of languages stood her in good stead. She quickly +out-distanced her benefactress in both position and salary. At sixteen +she was foreign correspondence clerk in the shipping house where they +were both employed. + +When Leslie was eighteen, Molly, never very strong, was seriously ill. +For three months the younger girl went to the office alone and Molly +stayed at home fretting over her uselessness. + +However, with the summer, things looked up again. + +Then winter came, and, with it, the darkest days of all. + +Molly was ill again, so ill that she had to leave London, if possible +go to the South of France. And just when money was most needed their +firm amalgamated with another and Leslie was numbered with the +unemployed. Molly was sent to Harrogate. Leslie went to Paris as a +teacher in a school of languages, the first post that presented +itself. And she went wondering what would happen when their savings +ran out, for the care Molly needed could not be got out of two pounds +a week. + +Then the sky cleared again, and Leslie sat in the hall of the hotel in +a fever of impatience waiting to impress upon the still truant Molly +the greatness of this stroke of luck. + +Full of suppressed excitement she watched the hands of the clock creep +slowly round to half-past eight. She wondered why Molly had not wired +to account for her absence, but she knew her friend’s easily agitated +and flustered ways too well to take much notice of this. + +As Fletcher and Mellors left the dining-room, the sight of Leslie +sitting small and erect with eyes for nothing beyond the clock and the +entrance, brought the Captain to a halt. + +“I tell you she’s no more a friend of that villain’s than I am,” he +said with some heat. “Does she look the sort of girl to take up with a +nigger? He’s taken advantage of her impulsive action and thrust +himself upon her, and she’s too much of a child to know how to get out +of the situation. As far as I can see she hasn’t a friend in the +place. If rumor is to be believed one girl from here has just gone and +made an unholy mess of her life by marrying a nigger. At the risk of a +snub, I’ll give that kid a word in season.” + +“Let her alone,” Mellors replied. “If she has no more respect for +herself than to be seen with Lebrassa, she’s not worth troubling +about.” + +“If she were ten years older I wouldn’t give the matter a second +thought. But a child like that, loose on the world, is everybody’s +concern.” + +Mellors shrugged his shoulders. Captain Lindsay Fletcher crossed the +hall. + +A voice well above her head brought Leslie’s gaze back from the +entrance. + +“I owe you an apology,” it said in a conciliatory tone. “I’d no idea +you were standing within earshot on that occasion before dinner, or I +wouldn’t have expressed myself quite so forcibly.” + +Fletcher experienced a nervous tremor as two vivid purple eyes were +switched on him. He stood expecting the snub he had laid himself open +to. + +“You owe me no apology,” she said. “But you certainly owe one to the +people you were so rude to.” + +“I’d a reason for what I said. But had I known Lebrassa was a friend +of yours I shouldn’t have said a word.” + +“I can hardly claim Mr. Lebrassa as a friend--except perhaps a friend +in need.” + +Fletcher braced himself up. + +“For a friend in need you’d be wiser to stick to your own sort and not +apply to the black people here. I’ve had dealings with niggers for +over twelve years and the less white women have to do with them the +better. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll avoid Lebrassa. If he +endeavors to thrust himself on you, I shall be only too pleased if +you’ll use me as an excuse.” + +Leslie was dumbfounded. + +“How dare you come and talk to me?” she managed to gasp. “The man you +call a ‘nigger’ at least knows how to behave himself properly.” + +Fletcher stuck to his guns. + +“Certainly our two meetings can’t have impressed you favorably. As +your opinion of me can’t be any worse than it is, I may as well have +my say out. To begin with, this Lebrassa is half a negro, he’s known +to be a bad lot, he--” + +“He’s not the Hyena, anyhow, because he told me so himself.” + +There was a tense silence as Fletcher realized all it meant if +Lebrassa had an inkling of his suspicions. + +He had deemed it improbable that the girl sitting in the winter garden +had heard or put any meaning to his conversation with Mellors. With an +alarming rush it dawned on him she had. + +“Surely you’ve not added to your follies by telling Lebrassa what I +was saying to Mellors?” + +For the first time it occurred to Leslie that she ought not to have +repeated the conversation she had overheard accidentally. The fact +that she had, took all anger from her. The sudden pallor of her face +told Fletcher the worst before she met his angry gaze unflinchingly. + +“I’m sorry, but--I did.” + +All the pretty color had faded from her cheeks, all the brightness +from her eyes. For the first time he realized how tired and worried +she was. The knowledge made him put his own anger and sense of defeat +in the background. + +The few cold, wrathful words Leslie was expecting did not come. + +Instead, Fletcher seated himself beside her. + +“I think you need a friend now if ever you did. Won’t you tell me what +the trouble is?” he asked in a kindly tone. + +His unexpected change of front brought a tremor to her voice. + +“I… I’ve been waiting for a friend ever since a quarter to seven. In +spite of what Mr. Lebrassa says, I think something must have happened +to her.” + +“What did Lebrassa say?” + +“That she must have missed the Liverpool train and wouldn’t be here +before half-past eight. But it’s a quarter to nine and… and she still +hasn’t come.” + +“Probably the train’s late. They often are.” + +“But I can’t make out why she went at all, the very day she knew I’d +be coming.” + +Just then Fletcher’s only idea was to comfort his companion and to +stay with her until the arrival of the belated friend put her into +safe hands. + +“There’s no accounting for what some people will do,” he said, +pouncing on the first topic of conversation that came to his mind. +“One of my reasons for speaking to you now was because of what’s been +going on here. There was a girl staying in this place, all alone as +you seemed to be. She got friendly with one of these niggers, a man +named Cooper, Lebrassa’s partner in fact, not knowing that to give +their sort an inch means they’ll try for an ell. This Cooper got such +a hold over her that rumor says she’s eloped with him. You wouldn’t +care for people to say the things about you that are being said about +this Miss Seaton. And it started--” + +“What are you talking about? Molly wouldn’t elope with a nigger.” + +This sudden interruption made Fletcher stop abruptly. As he gazed at +Leslie’s blank, unbelieving face, the truth of the situation dawned on +him. + +“Believe me, I’d no idea she was your friend,” he said quickly. + +“Tell the manager to come,” Leslie said sharply. “I’ll ask him about +it.” + +“He’ll tell you the same thing, child. The place is buzzing with the +scandal.” + +In a bewildered way, she got to her feet. In her weary mind there was +only one idea. This man, who had been saying things against people all +evening, had now started on Molly. Some one must be found who would +contradict his statements. + +White and dazed, Leslie stood looking for a face she knew. + +Seeing Lebrassa sauntering across the hall made her start in his +direction. Guessing where she was going, Fletcher followed. At that +moment only the girl’s reputation had any place in his mind; he did +not wish her to be seen for a second time alone with the mulatto. + +Her anxious voice made the latter turn around. + +“Mr. Lebrassa, is it true Miss Seaton has eloped with your partner?” + +Ignoring Fletcher, he glanced at Leslie. + +“I regret to say it is true, Miss Graham,” he said quietly. + +“Then you knew all the time!” + +“I heard it rumored only. It’s been said before without foundation. In +case it shouldn’t be true this time, I took the liberty of asking you +to dine with me. The subject would have been freely discussed by the +white people here and you might have been alarmed unnecessarily.” + +The episode of the dinner invitation was turned off with a skill and +diplomacy that left Fletcher inwardly fuming. He knew Lebrassa had +noted his interview with Leslie. Now, the mulatto had construed his +invitation into consideration for the girl. Moreover, he had succeeded +in making him, Fletcher, appear an even greater cad in her sight. + +As he glanced from the worried, anxious girl to the mulatto, back to +his mind flashed a remark made at a neighboring table during +dinner--to the effect that Lebrassa had seemed as anxious for Molly +Seaton to marry Cooper, as Cooper had been to marry the girl; in fact +he had done his best to assist the negro toward this end. + +A feeling of something lying behind it all suddenly seized Fletcher. +And the fact of Lebrassa standing cool and unconcerned when he must +know he was under suspicion, made the Englishman doubt the theory he +was evolving. + +Yet Fletcher could not quite free himself of the idea that Lebrassa +might be the “wanted” man; his present behavior savored of the Hyena’s +reckless daring. + +Leslie gazed back at Lebrassa’s dark, unmoved face almost defiantly. + +“I don’t believe it. Molly wouldn’t marry a… a colored man.” + +“It may be a little difficult to believe, but it’s true nevertheless, +for I’ve just had a telegram from Cooper, my partner, now her husband, +telling me they were married in Liverpool this morning by special +license.” + +“You let her marry a--nigger!” + +The amazed disgust in Leslie’s voice brought a flicker of amusement to +the mulatto’s face. + +“You forget I’m a ‘nigger’ myself, Miss Graham. Cooper is wealthy. If +your friend were willing to overlook his color it was hardly for me to +interfere.” + +In stunned bewilderment Leslie looked from one man to the other. Then, +with an effort she pulled herself together. + +“I’m sorry to have troubled you both,” she said in a stiff, strained +manner. “I must apologize for doubting what you both said, but it +was--rather unexpected.” + +Small and erect, with only the dazed pallor of her face to show what a +blow the news had been, she crossed the hall, making for the refuge of +her bedroom. + +Ignoring each other completely, the two men watched her until she was +lost round a bend in the stairs. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + “_If our best intentions pave the way_ + _To a place that is somewhat hot,_ + _Can our worst intentions lead us, say,_ + _To a still more sultry spot?_” + +London was enveloped in a lowering gray cloud. All day a cold rain +had been pouring down, showing no signs of abating as the afternoon +wore on. + +At about six o’clock, when shops and offices were closing, one figure +showed up in sharp contrast to the rest of the hurrying pedestrians: +that of a girl who went along at a slow walk, with hands thrust deep +into the pockets of her mackintosh. + +Four months had passed since the news of Molly Seaton’s elopement had +fallen with the suddenness of a thunderbolt on Leslie Graham. + +The following day she had left the hotel. Fletcher had tried to find +out her address and more about her, but he learned nothing except that +she had come from Paris. Lebrassa had taken Leslie’s departure more +coolly. Within a week he, himself, had left the hotel for West Africa. + +Dr. Atherley kept Fletcher posted on Essel Lebrassa’s every movement. +At length the captain heard that the mulatto was again visiting +England. This news shattered most of the hopes concerning the Hyena. +Moreover, the intervening correspondence had almost proved that +Lebrassa was nothing more than the senior partner of the firm of +“Lebrassa & Cooper,” whose long absences were due only to business and +pleasure trips to Europe and America. + +However, Fletcher decided to have the mulatto watched during his visit +to England, await his return to Africa and travel back by the same +boat. The captain wanted to satisfy himself completely that Lebrassa +was only the wealthy half-breed trader whose orgies had made him +notorious throughout the Bight of Biafra. + +To Leslie the months had passed very slowly. She had returned to Paris +hoping to hear something from Molly. + +Lebrassa’s remark, “Cooper is wealthy,” was constantly before her. +Sometimes she wondered if this could be the explanation. + +As the post in Marseilles had fallen through owing to her lack of a +chaperon, at the end of a few weeks Leslie had returned to London, to +take a position in an office there. Then, just when the wound was +healing a little, a letter came from Molly in Africa, forwarded from +Leslie’s Paris address. It had reached her the previous morning, and +the contents had been in her mind ever since. + +It was all a mistake! Molly had never had her letter! She had only +married that dreadful man in order to be no further burden on her, +Leslie. + +Thoughts went in steady procession through Leslie’s brain, drummed and +marshaled by one quivering, heartbroken cry. + +“How _did_ the letter go astray?” + +It was all too terrible! Poor, sensitive little Molly tied for life to +a nigger. All because a letter had not reached its destination! + +Through mud and rain Leslie trudged on, trying to think the matter out +calmly, too preoccupied to notice a man lingering outside her office, +who, on seeing her, had followed in her wake. + +She turned into a cheap café for a cup of tea. Once seated, awaiting +the arrival of her order, she drew out Molly’s letter and read it +through again. + +It bore a West African address and ran as follows: + + + _Dear little Leslie_, + + What years, centuries, it seems since I last called you that. And it’s + not more than six months! I meant to drop out of your life + entirely--to tell you nothing. I knew you’d hear sooner or later what + had happened. And I hoped you’d despise me and forget all about me. I + couldn’t be a drag on you any longer, dear. When you mentioned that + position in Marseilles, I cried with relief. And I prayed that you + would get it. But you never wrote. So I guessed it had fallen through. + You could swim alone, but the weight of me would swamp you. I used to + sit thinking until my head ached, trying to find a way out. + + Then a way came. Such a way! + + I think I must have died and gone to hell. A hell full of negroes. + They are all around me. I can’t get away from them. And so hideously + real. So real that it makes me scream. Then one, my husband, the + constant and most vivid of them all, comes and kisses me and asks me + what the matter is! + + I always wonder how I brought myself to marry him, but the color bar + did not seem so insurmountable then. And I thought the climate would + kill me. But it hasn’t. I’ve only been married four months and I can’t + stand it. I want to come back to England, but my husband won’t hear of + it. Everything is mine for the asking--everything except a little time + away from him, the only thing I want. + + He says I may have one of my girl friends out here if I wish. Leslie, + in the horror of it all I turn to you. I want you to come out and stay + with me before I go absolutely mad. I want one little bit of the old + world, the white world, to cling to. Some one to talk to who is not + black, brown or yellow. Some one white who will not despise me. I want + to make you come and I know it’s wrong. If you come to me the few + white women in the place will cut you. And the men will do the same. + Or worse still, look at you in a way that makes you feel you’ve lost + something that can never be regained. If I were not so weak and + cowardly I’d bear my burden alone, or go down to the river and put an + end to everything. But I can’t. I’m afraid of both. So afraid that I + write to you, to drag you down to the depths of my black hell. + + I want to tempt you, to make you come. You have been my strength for + so long. Think of all the strange wild sights you would see, all the + glories of the tropics. I am writing this out on the balcony, in the + moonlight. Such a moon, such a mass of molten glory that I almost + forget the price! And such stars! Great things of silver set in a low + arch of purple velvet. So near to the earth too, that by standing on + my chair I fancy I could touch them. On the skyline is the forest, + dark and uncanny, fearsome and haunted, black against a flood of + moonlight. The wind comes moaning down from the unknown, bringing the + whispering sigh of a hundred exotic trees, the scent of orange blossom + and magnolia and a dozen other strange, languorous perfumes. They + smother the scent of the roses growing round the balcony, and I am + glad. It is all white--white with a perfect whiteness. And + black--black with an utter everlasting blackness. + + Below at the foot of the hill are the twinkling lights of the town, + set in a bower of vegetation. Farther away are bonfires blazing in the + native quarter, showing up scattered mud huts and a host of savage + figures. Beyond is the river, all white and still and peaceful. And + the sounds that drift up to me here! The splash and ripple of the + silvered water, the hoot of an owl, the uncanny whispering rustle of + the bamboos, the hoarse bellow of a distant crocodile, the beating of + tom-toms, wild negro melodies, the stealthy pad of unshod feet as the + servants go to and fro, and the hundred wild, weird whispers that go + to make up tropical night. + + But, above all, my husband’s voice talking to his partner. Leslie, + don’t come, you’ll be a pariah too. + + My husband’s partner, Mr. Lebrassa, says he saw you in Harrogate, at + the hotel! Ever since he told me I have been wondering why you came. + He said you thought I would be expecting you! It has puzzled me so + much. I can think of nothing else. He has been so kind to me since I + came here. He’s not a bit like my husband, but almost an Englishman. + This used to be his bungalow, but he has given it over to Horten, my + husband, because it is higher and healthier and better for me than + down over the factory where Horten used to be. He’s always trying to + make my lot easier. I know he suggested I ought to have a companion, + that being alone all day when my husband was at the factory was not + good for me. But that was only the nice way to put it. I think he + knows the long evenings alone with Horten are getting more than I can + stand. He leaves for England the day after to-morrow, by the same boat + as this letter. I told him I’d written to the one friend who loved me + enough to overlook what I had done, and perhaps come out here and stay + with me. He asked me who that was and I told him your name and where + you were living. Then he said he’d met and talked to you at the hotel + the very day I was married! He is only going to stay a few weeks in + England, and if you can forget the loss of caste and come out here to + me he will be able to look after you. It _is_ selfish of me to ask + you, to try and pull you down to what I am now, but the horror of it + all is getting more than I can bear alone. + + Leslie darling, don’t take any notice of my ravings, stay where you + are. + + Molly. + + +As Leslie sat brooding on the letter, some one halting at her table +brought her mind back to the present. Glancing up she stayed staring +in open surprise at the man standing beside her. + +“Why, Mr. Lebrassa, how did you get here?” she asked. “I was just +reading about you--quite nice things.” + +Her greeting made the cruel lines about his mouth relax a little. + +“Were you? I’m glad of that. People as a rule haven’t a good word to +say for me. And what would _you_ say if I told you I’d been +cold-bloodedly stalking you--stalking you with intent to capture?” + +“I should say I knew why.” + +“Why then?” he asked. + +“I’ve just heard from my friend, saying she’d given you my Paris +address. I could never make out why she wasn’t at the hotel that +night, and it seems she never got my letter.” + +“Was it so important that she’d have postponed her wedding in order to +wait for you?” + +It was on the tip of Leslie’s tongue to say that, had she arrived +twelve hours sooner at the hotel, there would have been no wedding. To +explain forcibly and pointedly to Lebrassa it was _not_ Cooper’s money +that had made Molly commit such a degrading action. + +But Molly was married. No amount of explanation could undo that. It +was no use going over matters nothing could rectify, which this man +might repeat to his partner, and perhaps make Molly’s lot even worse. + +“It was a business letter and of importance to both of us,” she +answered. + +There was a brief pause. + +Leslie was the first to break it. + +“Won’t you sit down?” she asked rather nervously. “There’s a lot I +want to say to you.” + +Seating himself, Lebrassa stayed watching her in brooding silence. +Then suddenly he put a hand on her soaked raincoat. + +“Why are you sitting in that wet thing?” he asked. + +At his touch, she drew back quickly. Her action made him laugh in a +savage, bitter manner. + +“Sometimes I wonder what I should have been like if I hadn’t been--a +nigger,” he said in a dreary manner. + +Leslie knew she had hurt him by shrinking from his touch. + +She poured herself out a cup of tea, and as she drank it she watched +his hand which lay, brown and powerful, on the table. + +Just then her one idea was to make amends for the pain she had +unwittingly inflicted. + +Presently, she laid her hand on his. Just for a moment it settled on +his dark one, and was off again with the nervous flutter of a +butterfly. The touch, light and slight as it was, made him suddenly +shiver. + +“Mr. Lebrassa, something is worrying you,” she said. + +He smiled, a smile that made Leslie’s heart ache with its +hopelessness. + +“It’s nothing more than what has worried me for the last thirty-six +years. I thought I’d got over it, but I find I haven’t--quite.” + +Leslie said nothing. But now she realized what his “worry” was. + +“Now tell me what Mrs. Cooper had to say to you? I can make a fair +guess,” he went on quickly. “And if you take my advice--don’t go.” + +“I’ve made up my mind to go,” she replied. “I sent a cablegram this +afternoon.” + +“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” + +“I don’t understand you.” + +“I don’t understand myself,” he answered grimly. + +Then once more he lapsed into brooding silence. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + “_In my ears, like distant washing_ + _Of the surf upon the shore,_ + _Drones a murmur, faintly splashing,_ + _’Tis the splash of Charon’s oar._” + +Two hours later Leslie was sitting before a gas fire in a bedroom of +a Bloomsbury boarding-house. During the last few months two men, both +strangers, both met in the most casual manner, both entirely different +from any who had come into her life before, had taken it upon +themselves to give her advice. And, in each case, she had preferred +her own immature judgment. Moreover, Mr. Lebrassa had not taken any +part of the ell mentioned by Captain Fletcher. The mulatto had not +shown any desire to meet her again, or invited her out to dinner or a +theater, or even attempted to pay for her tea, as she had feared he +might. He had merely said that, if she insisted on going to Mrs. +Cooper, he had been instructed to book a passage for her and take +charge of her on the way out. And he had left saying he would write +and let her know the boat and the time of sailing, and would meet her +in Liverpool, if she persisted in her foolish decision. + +About a month later Leslie stepped out of a train in one of the +principal Liverpool stations. + +“You see I’ve come, Mr. Lebrassa, in spite of your advice,” was her +greeting to the man who came forward to meet her. + +“So I see, but it’s still not too late to turn back.” + +“I never intended to do anything but go from the moment I got that +letter.” + +Rather abruptly he turned away to see after her luggage. + +“Would you rather walk or ride down to the boat, Miss Graham?” he +asked when this was disposed of. “We’ve two hours yet before sailing; +I suggest walking so that you can take a last, long, lingering +farewell of England.” + +“Why a last farewell?” + +“West Africa, I fancy, has a higher European death rate than any place +on earth. Haven’t you heard our rhyme? + + + “‘Beware, take care of the Bight of Benin, + Where for one that comes out there are forty stay in.’” + + +“But I’m not going there,” she replied. “I’m going to the Bight of +Biafra.” + +“That’s next door.” + +“You _are_ cheerful. I’d better walk and make the most of being alive +now, for you seem to think I’m going to swell the forty. Who knows? I +may prove to be the fortunate one who comes out.” + +In a grim way, Lebrassa smiled. Then he piloted his charge out of the +busy station into the street beyond. + +“I’m so glad I’m going to Molly,” Leslie said. “I’d put up with +anything to be with her.” + +Lebrassa, however, appeared to be lost in thoughts of his own. For the +next few minutes he answered her remarks in a very haphazard manner. +Presently, in one of the main thoroughfares, a large florist’s shop +brought him to a halt. + +“Miss Graham, may I buy you a flower before you leave England?” + +His request was followed by a moment’s silence. Then Leslie thought of +the inch that had never been exceeded. + +“What a nice idea,” she said. “It’ll take away the taste of that +dreadful Bight of Benin you spoke about.” + +On entering the shop Lebrassa appeared to want rosebuds--small white +rosebuds, and only one of these. But he had every specimen in the +place brought out for his inspection. + +Leslie watched him as he went over them, examining each carefully. + +“You’re very difficult to please,” she said at length. + +“I can’t find what I want--one with just two petals curled back, quite +white and without a flaw.” + +“What about this?” she inquired, putting a finger on a perfect +specimen he had just discarded. + +“It’s not absolutely white. The one I want must have no tinge of +color.” + +“Really suitable for my funeral wreath,” she suggested. + +In a grim, mirthless manner he smiled. + +“That I’ve not quite decided,” he replied. + +He continued his search. + +“There,” he said at length, placing a flower on the counter before +her. + +As Leslie pinned it on her coat, in a contemplative way he watched +her. + +“Out in Africa I’ve a rose garden,” he said presently. “It has been my +hobby and recreation for nearly twenty years. But I’ve never had my +flowers quite white. They’ve always had a tinge of color. Some day, +perhaps, you may see it.” + +“Is it near Calabar?” she asked. + +“Near Calabar!” he echoed. + +Then, in a savage manner, he laughed. + +“It’s some distance from Calabar,” he finished with peculiar emphasis. + +For some reason she could not fathom, Leslie shivered. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + “_For now they are so few indeed_ + (_Not more than three in all_) + _Who e’er will think of me or heed_ + _What fate may me befall._” + +On board the S.S. _Batava_, outward bound for West Africa, all was +bustle and confusion. On the lower deck a couple of men stood, one of +whom was watching the passengers coming off the last tender. + +“Well,” he remarked presently, “your little girl with the ‘clematis’ +eyes married him in spite of the word in season.” + +The remark made Captain Fletcher turn sharply. + +“What the devil are you talking about?” he asked. + +“Here comes your latest Hyena with the little white lamb you were so +anxious about.” + +Fletcher’s gaze followed Mellors’. He saw a girl with a pair of eyes +that he, in a weak and sentimental moment, had likened to a clematis. + +“Poor kid! She must have been all alone in the world or that wouldn’t +have happened.” + +“Well, there’s no need for you to waste any further thought or +sympathy on her,” Mellors replied. “She looks perfectly pleased with +her bargain. But it’s surprising what some women will swallow provided +it’s sufficiently gilded.” + +Fletcher watched the two coming along the deck. Lebrassa was the first +to see him and over his dark face there crept a vestige of sardonic +amusement. + +He made some remark to Leslie that brought her attention to the two +men. + +For an instant the vivid eyes that had haunted Fletcher for the last +few months looked straight at him. But the girl made no acknowledgment +of his presence, unless the sudden rush of color to her face counted +as such. + +“The cut direct,” Mellors murmured as she passed on. + +There he was wrong. It was the act of a child caught doing what it +knew it ought not to do, moreover, what it had been told not to do, +very anxious to attract no further attention to itself. + +Lebrassa’s remark, “There are two friends of yours,” had made Leslie +look round in quick curiosity. + +Fletcher and Mellors were the last people she had expected to see. She +knew they had recognized her. With an unpleasant rush their presence +brought back every word Fletcher had said about colored men. And the +look of contempt on Mellors’ face told her, for the first time, what +she might have to put up with on the voyage out, and what certainly +would be her lot in Calabar. + +By the time she was two steps away it dawned on her that she might +have saved herself some future unpleasantness had she given Fletcher +the barest recognition. Having once cut him she could hardly smile +upon him the next time they met. Then all he had said about Lebrassa, +which had proved absolutely false, made her glad she had treated him +in the way he deserved. + +A prey to a variety of emotions, Fletcher watched her go, the +principal being that their former meetings had left her with such an +unfavorable impression of himself that his advice counted for nothing. + +In gloomy silence he stood watching her retreating figure, then he +left his friend and went to the saloon to study the passenger list. + +He returned to Mellors with a buoyancy in his step that had not been +there when he left. + +“You’re wrong,” he said. “She’s not married to that nigger.” + +“What the deuce is she doing with him then?” + +“I want to know what he’s doing with her,” Fletcher replied, “because +she’s going to Calabar.” + +For the rest of the day Fletcher kept a sharp lookout for Leslie, but +he saw nothing more of her. Out in the Irish Sea the worst gale of the +season was raging, and all but the most seasoned travelers sought the +refuge of their cabins. + +One afternoon about two days later, he came across what looked to be a +bundle of rugs stretched out on a deck chair. As he neared it, it took +shape and became a girl asleep in the sun. The sight brought him to an +abrupt halt, for he had determined to make, not one, but many efforts +to gain the confidence of this friendless little girl, and the +opportunity seemed favorable. + +Leaning on a rail near, he waited until Leslie awoke. + +All at once she opened her eyes, but seeing him on guard there, closed +them again before he had time to speak. + +Fletcher knew she had seen him. Also, he knew she was now keeping her +eyes shut deliberately, for the sole purpose of not seeing him. + +Leslie was very conscious of the big man leaning against the rail +near. Angrily she wondered why he should take it upon himself to stand +just there, and she was waiting for him to move before she sat up. + +She had made up her mind to ignore everybody on board except Lebrassa. +Already her destination was being whispered about. To feel herself +despised and an object of contempt was a new sensation. + +Fletcher had heard rumors of where she was going, and it had made him +all the more determined to come between her and her folly. + +Presently the vigorous ringing of the tea bell, almost in her ear, +made any further pretense impossible. + +Leslie sat up, ready for the fray, knowing Fletcher was going to speak +to her. + +“I hope you’re feeling better, Miss Graham,” he said. + +“I’m quite well, thank you,” she replied in a frosty manner. + +“I think you must have forgotten me,” he continued, ignoring her icy +tone, “so I’ve taken the liberty of recalling myself.” + +“I remember seeing you in Harrogate.” + +The reply was not encouraging. It said plainly she had no desire for +his acquaintance. + +Fletcher’s jaw set in the way it did when he was leading a forlorn +hope. + +“I’m going to Calabar,” he said stiffly. “If I can be of any use to +you either there or during the voyage, I’m always at your service.” + +“I don’t think I shall have to avail myself of your offer,” she said +in a cutting one. + +Fletcher was sorry he had spoken. He had wanted her to know she had at +least one friend on board, and he had only succeeded in annoying her. + +“May I tell the steward to bring you some tea?” he asked prior to +departure. + +“Mr. Lebrassa will do that.” + +Fletcher knew she had said this purposely, to show him how much either +he, his opinion, or advice were worth in her estimation. + +For three days Leslie pursued her own way, ignoring everybody but +Lebrassa, and herself ignored by most people. + +The climax came the evening before the steamer reached Grand Canary. + +A dance was taking place on the saloon deck, and the strains of the +music were wafted over the calm, starlit sea. Leslie was alone on the +deserted lower deck, gazing rather wistfully over the shrouded water. + +She was learning that the lot of a pariah is not enviable. + +All at once a figure loomed up beside her with a silence that made her +jump and broke the current of her thoughts. + +“How you made me jump, Mr. Lebrassa,” she said, smiling up at him. + +“What are you thinking about, all alone here?” he asked. + +“I was thinking--how nice and quiet it was.” + +The reply made Lebrassa smile. + +In spite of her trying position no word of complaint had ever passed +the girl’s lips. + +“Then you were not thinking you were just the least bit sorry you +hadn’t taken my advice and stayed in England?” + +“Why should I be?” she asked, almost defiantly. + +“I was afraid you were beginning to find things a bit changed.” + +“I’d made up my mind to all that before I left England. It would be +rather foolish to start worrying now, wouldn’t it?” + +“Are you always so brave and loyal?” he asked. + +“There’s nothing very brave in giving up a hard life for an easy one.” + +“So you think your life with Mrs. Cooper will be easy?” + +“Well, I shan’t have to turn out every morning, whether I’m in the +mood for it or not. And in past days Molly was awfully good to me.” + +He made no reply. Leaning against the rail, with stifled, unwilling +tenderness he watched her small, brave face. + +“May I do my poor best to entertain you, Miss Graham?” he said at +length. “The other day you were boasting of your prowess as a +chess-player. May I challenge you to mortal combat?” + +“It won’t be combat at all, but simple slaughter. I shall be wiped out +of existence in the first round.” + +“Shall we fight over there?” he asked, indicating a lamp in a remote +and secluded corner. “Just the two of us alone, mortal enemies, to the +death. Then, when I’ve killed you I can drop you overboard and no one +will be any the wiser.” + +“How vicious you sound! Hankering after bloodshed.” + +“You forget I’m half a savage.” + +In a gentle, understanding manner Leslie smiled at him. + +“I don’t forget because I never thought you were.” + +Rather abruptly Lebrassa turned away to fetch the chess-board and the +pieces. Leslie went across to the lighted corner and stood there +watching the figures flitting on the upper deck. + +Up there were women who turned their backs on her, and men who did the +same or, worse still, whispered and laughed and tried to talk to her. + +As the music struck up afresh she turned her back on the scene, and +picking up a book from one of the chairs looked at it with eyes too +blurred with tears to distinguish the letters. + +Presently, approaching footsteps made her glance round, thinking it +was Lebrassa. But when her gaze fell on the figure coming along the +deck, she looked away again very quickly. + +The newcomer was a stout, red-faced man--one of those who laughed and +whispered and tried to talk to her. + +Halting at her side, he leant over her in a most familiar manner. + +“What about this dance, Miss Graham?” he asked. + +“I don’t dance,” she said curtly. + +“Well, now I come to think of it, I don’t seem to have seen you +hopping round with that nigger.” + +Leslie plunged again into her book, ignoring him completely. + +“You’re not a very sociable sort,” he said, “and I’ve seen you talking +nineteen to the dozen to that Lebrassa.” + +It was evident he meant to stay. Deliberately Leslie closed her book +and was in the act of moving away when he seized one of her bare arms +and, despite her struggles, kept her where she was. + +“You’re not in such a dashed hurry to run away when that nigger comes +and talks to you,” he said, “so you needn’t put on any airs with me.” + +The unexpected contact of his coarse, hot hand on her bare flesh made +her give a little gasping scream. The sound reached Fletcher just as +he was leaving the smoke-room. It brought him to a halt and made him +look sharply along the deserted deck. + +On seeing the couple under the lamp, he turned swiftly in that +direction. + +A voice, hoarse with suppressed anger, made the man loose Leslie’s +arm. + +“You damned skunk!” it said. “How dare you come and annoy this lady. +If I catch you at it again I’ll thrash the life out of you.” + +Gripping the man’s shoulder, Fletcher sent him swinging across the +deck. + +In Leslie’s mind was the memory of her last interview with Fletcher. +Under his gaze all speech fled. Then, just as she was pulling herself +together, his voice scattered her thoughts again. + +“At the risk of annoying you again, I must say it’s not wise of you to +stand about alone on deck at night. Considering the circumstances, you +lay yourself open to that sort of thing. And while I’m talking, let me +say I think you’re very foolish to ignore everybody but Lebrassa. I +know half a dozen men on board you could be friendly with and who +wouldn’t take advantage of your peculiar position.” + +“I… I don’t want to know any one.” + +Into the voice of the pariah crept the least suspicion of tears. + +“I can quite understand that,” Fletcher replied. “But you’re putting +Lebrassa in a very unfair position. You can’t realize what you’re +doing or you wouldn’t act in such a foolish manner. What thoughts +would come into any man’s head if you were with him as much as you are +with this Lebrassa? In the words of the Americans, he’d think you’d +‘fallen for him.’ I’ve seen enough of Lebrassa to know he can behave +himself when he wants, and in you he knows he’s dealing with some one +very different from the women who usually seek out a man of his sort. +But if he should forget himself, you’ve only yourself to blame. I’m +sorry to have to speak so plainly. And if you should consider my +advice worth taking I’m always ready to help you.” + +Quickly Fletcher turned away, fearing the storm that might break on +his offending head. + +His words left Leslie stunned and petrified. + +The idea that she might be leading Lebrassa to think she loved him, +filled her with horror. + +The mulatto’s voice roused her from her stunned bewilderment. + +“I must apologize for being so long, Miss Graham, but I had some +difficulty in collecting the weapons together.” + +His bored, cultured voice that, in all her experience of him, had +never varied one whit, comforted her a little. Sitting down, she +watched him arrange the pieces, answering his remarks in a preoccupied +manner. + +The game started. But Leslie was too full of what Fletcher had said to +give her whole attention to it. + +Closely Lebrassa watched her. At once he noticed she was perturbed and +unusually silent. + +During his absence something had happened--something that had startled +this little white fawn of his. + +He recollected having met Fletcher coming along the deck as though +from her direction, and he determined to find out if his enemy had +been with her. + +“If Captain Fletcher wanted you to dance, I hope you didn’t consider +our game,” he remarked. + +Leslie looked up from her silent contemplation of the board. + +“He didn’t ask me to dance,” she replied, her face flushing. + +So Fletcher had been talking to her! Lebrassa wondered what had been +said, and he was sufficiently acquainted with his man to know it would +be nothing to his, Lebrassa’s, credit. + +The thought appeared to amuse him, for a smile, half-tender, +half-cruel, came and played about his mouth as he watched his +companion. Her hand hovering uncertainly about a piece made his smile +deepen. + +“If you make that move, I win,” he remarked presently. + +Leslie surveyed the position more closely. + +“So you do,” she said. + +Another move was tried, but further consideration proved it to be no +better than the first. + +Lebrassa watched her as she sat, with puckered brow, considering her +position on the chess board. Just then he was filled with great relief +to know that Cooper had _not_ connected Molly’s friend with Lionel de +Tourville. In fact the negro had been too elated over his own marriage +to inquire further into the matter. + +“Why, whatever I do, you win,” Leslie said presently. + +Lebrassa swept the pieces together. + +“Exactly. Whatever you do I win,” he replied in a voice that had in it +a queer undercurrent of savage satisfaction. “Shall we play again? +This time I’ll give you unto half of my kingdom, then we shall be more +evenly matched.” + +“There are one or two letters I must write, so perhaps you’ll excuse +me,” Leslie said, very conscious of Fletcher’s advice. + +“If I can give you a hand in any way, getting the right sort of stamps +or anything, don’t be afraid to ask,” he volunteered. + +“… I’ve already been taking up too much of your time.” + +Her nervous reply, with an unmistakable note of reserve, so different +from her usual friendly, straightforward manner, made a surge of anger +go coursing through Lebrassa. + +What Fletcher had said to the girl had made her lose faith in him. + +“How can you take up too much of my time, when Mrs. Cooper put you in +my charge?” he asked. + +“But--I keep you away from your own friends.” + +“My own friends! Who are they? If you mean the black passengers, I’m +sufficiently akin to them to despise them utterly. My friends! I never +had any. Those I want, despise me. Those who want me, I despise. I’m +nothing, neither black nor white, above the one, below the other. An +outcast and a pariah.” + +Leslie was aghast at the storm her words had roused. And his dreary, +bitter voice cut her to the quick. + +For a second time she had a glimpse of the galling black yoke--how it +chafed and tortured the man who wore it. + +She glanced at him as he sat, all else forgotten but the black curse +on his life, with massive shoulders bowed, and a hopeless weariness in +his eyes. + +The sight made her heart ache. He was so big and strong, so capable of +feeling, so full of suffering, so absolutely alone with a burden not +of his own making, and which none could help him with. + +A sudden flood of sympathy and understanding swept through her. +Getting to her feet, she leant over him, a hand lightly on his +shoulder. + +“It isn’t any fault of yours,” she whispered. + +Her voice and light, caressing touch made him start up, shivering as +from ague. + +Startled by the abruptness of his movement, she drew back quickly. He +had loomed over her so suddenly, big and all-powerful, blocking out +everything but the fact of himself. There was some emotion on his face +that her frightened expression and shrinking attitude stifled. + +In a bitter, hopeless way, he laughed. + +“Don’t waste any sympathy on me, Miss Graham. I’m not worth it.” + +Abruptly he turned away. + +As Leslie watched him go, the wail of a violin came sweeping along on +the night wind and died away in a long-drawn sigh. Just then the world +seemed all pain--pain that no human hands could lighten. + +Hardly aware of where she was going, Leslie went along the deck. Her +only desire was to reach the light, to get away from the blackness +that shadowed and spoilt everything. + +On the upper deck, among the gay flags and the colored lanterns, the +music that had seemed like weeping was only a waltz tune! + +She leant against the rail, thankful for the light, watching the +dancers, glad there were still some happy people in the world, people +whom the black did not touch. + +She looked round the deck for Fletcher. She knew she must accept his +offer of friendship, and not risk making things even worse by letting +Mr. Lebrassa think they ever could be more than friends. + +A little way off, she saw her quarry watching the crowd moodily. + +Leslie hesitated. His air of aloofness did not argue well for the +coming interview. And the fact that Fletcher had never on any occasion +approved of her behavior made her courage shrivel to vanishing point. +Then the thought of the consequences that might arise if she persisted +in her present line of action made her take her wavering determination +firmly in both hands. + +A voice with a desperate “do or die” note in it broke in on his moody +reverie. + +“I hadn’t time to thank you, Captain Fletcher. And I’m very grateful +for what you said and did.” + +Hardly able to believe his ears, he turned. The cause of his gloomy +musings was with him, for the first time condescending to take any +notice of him or his advice. + +“I’m only too pleased to be of any use to you, Miss Graham,” he said +eagerly. + +There was a brief pause as Leslie wondered how to put her project into +words. She was anxious to justify Molly and to give Lebrassa his due +by letting Fletcher know the mulatto had done his best to keep her +from going to Africa. + +Groping round in his head for some commonplace remark Fletcher watched +her, but her presence seemed to have deprived him of speech. + +“You were quite right in what you said when that man came and annoyed +me,” Leslie said in a nervous manner. “But I’d never looked at it in +that light before. So I’d like you for my friend, and… and I’d like to +explain everything to you.” + +“Don’t bother to explain. I shall be only too delighted if you will +count me as your friend without that.” + +“But I’d much rather tell you all about it,” she insisted. + +“Very well then, if you wish, but let me get you a chair first.” + +In a more light-hearted frame of mind than had been his since leaving +Liverpool, he skirmished round the deck to find two chairs. + +As they sat side by side, into Fletcher’s ears was poured the story of +the letter, how it never reached its destination, and the fatal +result. She told him of the one that had come to her from Molly in +Africa. How Lebrassa had tried to persuade her not to go to her +friend, but she had insisted. + +“You see,” she finished, “Mrs. Cooper married that dreadful man to +save me, not because he’s rich, as people say. And I couldn’t leave +her in the lurch.” + +Fletcher could read between the lines, and he knew Leslie had +struggled on, trying to keep her friend, handicapped beyond her +strength. + +“I always suspected it was something of the sort, both in your case +and Mrs. Cooper’s,” he said in a kindly tone. + +“It’s very good of you to have given the case so lenient a view. It +was all a mistake, so ghastly that at times I can’t believe it. Poor +little Molly tied for life to that--man, all because my letter went +astray.” + +Fletcher recollected what he had heard in the hotel concerning +Lebrassa’s desire for his partner to marry Molly Seaton. With the +recollection came a feeling that the mulatto may have wanted the +marriage as a means of getting Leslie to Africa. + +The idea made him probe deeper into the affair. + +“Have any of your people anything to do with West Africa, Miss +Graham?” + +“No. My father disliked everything African and he had an absolute +hatred of negroes. I once had a piece of jewelry that I found among +his things. A friend told me it was of West African origin, but it +couldn’t have been because my father had never been there, and he had +been to the place the name of which was engraved on the armlet, +because when he was… ill, he used to talk about it.” + +“What was the name of the place?” Fletcher asked. + +“Kallu.” + +“I’ve never heard of it,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m much interested +in things West African, and I know more about them than most people. +If you’d let me have a look at that armlet I could tell whether it had +come from those parts.” + +“I haven’t got it now. I had to sell it last year when Molly was so +ill.” + +Scenting a mystery, Fletcher pondered on what she had said. He wanted +to ask Leslie more about her father. Finally he decided to leave the +subject until a more advanced stage of friendship permitted of +questions bordering on the inquisitive. + +Her voice roused him. + +“I like Mr. Lebrassa, and I consider the world is hard on him for a +reason that is no fault of his. For all that I shouldn’t like him to +think--to think he could be anything more than my friend.” + +Leslie got to her feet. + +“I’ve not been at all nice to you,” she continued, “and I appreciate +your kindness in… in coming to my rescue. Good-night and many thanks.” + +Fletcher took the hand she held out to him, wondering why Fate had +left such an honorable, high-minded child to find her way through the +maze of life alone. + +When she had gone, a desire for solitude drove him to the lower deck, +to walk up and down there, thinking of all she had said. + +Lebrassa was there also, pacing up and down with the quiet, stealthy +tread of a jungle beast. + +The sight of his dark, powerful face with its cruel mouth and +indifferent expression eventually drove Fletcher to his cabin, more +than ever convinced there was something behind it all that only the +mulatto knew. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + “_I am so foolish and you are so wise._” + +The Calabar River crept along sluggishly, bringing with it all the +drainings of a dark continent. A dense forest lined one bank right +down to its boulder-strewn edge; the other was a dreary, monotonous +stretch of mangrove and pandanus swamp. + +No sound broke the quiet of the evening, except the sickly lapping of +water round the slimy, weed-grown piles of a wooden wharf. There was +no sign of human life save one woman standing ankle-deep in the river, +gazing intently across the stretch of steaming swamp. + +She was tall and superbly made, a bronze statue in the swiftly fading +light, with features more Arab than negro. A cream-colored cloth +draped her from shoulder to knee. On her arms were a couple of ivory +bracelets; these and a necklace composed of many rows of gold chains +set with small nuggets, coral and charms, completed her attire. + +Just as the brief African twilight was gathering into night, a canoe +crept out from the shadows of the opposite bank, and made straight for +the woman. + +The boat had one occupant, a young man of about twenty. + +When he reached her, the woman greeted him in a dialect not known in +that part of Southern Nigeria. + +“He’s not back yet, Nanza. He has a great love for England now. He’s +been there twice within the last six months.” + +For some minutes the two stood talking together. Then they turned +inland, to a trading factory standing just behind the wharf. + +A light dribbled through one of the reed blinds screening a door +leading on to the balcony surrounding the upper part of the building. +Inside, busy writing, Cooper sat. + +The unceremonious pulling aside of the reed blind made him look up +sharply. When his gaze fell on the entering couple, surprise and anger +came to his face. + +“What are you doing here?” he demanded hotly, looking at the man. “You +were told not to come within four hundred miles of this place.” + +Contemptuously, Nanza looked at him. + +“Since when have I taken orders from you?” he asked. + +“The order was not mine, but the Sultan’s.” + +“You’ve a great liking for things English lately, both you and he.” + +There was a threat in Nanza’s voice. Cooper was quick to hear it. His +next remark was in a cooler and more conciliatory tone. + +“On each occasion lately, it was business that took our Sultan to +England,” he explained. + +“And I suppose it was _business_ that made you marry one of an +accursed race,” Nanza sneered. + +“My marriage was the Sultan’s command,” Cooper said after a moment’s +pause. + +The answer appeared to leave Nanza nonplussed. + +Yoni’s voice broke the silence. + +“Is it the Sultan’s command too, that you sit of an evening toying +with that woman’s hair, and whispering love words into her ears?” she +demanded. + +In an access of fury Cooper started up. + +“By hell! I won’t discuss my wife with such as you.” + +“Hark at him!” Yoni cried mockingly. “We hold his heart in our hand. +Squeeze it, Nanza, my brother. Ask all you wish. And if he won’t tell +you, threaten to expose everything. And he will tell you then, for +love has made a coward of him.” + +In a menacing manner Nanza advanced towards Cooper. + +“See here,” he cried angrily, “why am I kept in darkness? Twice have I +sent down asking why the Sultan doesn’t come. And twice I’ve been put +off by you. I will know the truth. What is the Sultan doing in +England?” + +“I’ve told you,” Cooper replied in a dogged voice. “It’s business that +concerns him alone. I’ve been forbidden to say more.” + +“What is the Sultan’s concern is my concern. Am I not his cousin and +his heir?” + +At his words Yoni laughed scornfully, a laugh that had in it an +undercurrent of savage jealousy. + +“But not his heir for much longer, Nanza,” she said. “For our Sultan +is afflicted with a love-sickness, of a fierceness that comes to men +but once. And he forgets, as men forget, that the dog which has licked +his hand for many years can bite.” + +In scorn her brother turned on her. + +“A pest on you for a jealous woman. Is it for a fool’s tale such as +this that you have dragged me down from Kallu?” + +“It is no fool’s tale,” Yoni declared passionately. “Have I been his +slave and servant all these years for nothing? When our cousin +returned from his last visit to England he would have nothing to do +with me. Instead, he would pace at nights from sunset to sunrise, and +would bid me begone did I venture near him. What is it comes between +a man and his sleep? Soft sleep in arms such as these,” and a pair of +beautiful limbs were thrown out with a gesture of despair. “What but +the face of another woman!” + +“You’re a mad, raving fool,” her brother said contemptuously. “Our +cousin has no need of women--as wives.” + +“Cooper said the same of himself,” she cried, turning to the negro. +“Yet he has returned with a woman fairer than the morning, whose hair +is like gold. And she is his wife! I did not know these white women +could be so beautiful. All those I had seen before were as sticks, +dried and shriveled, and I, Yoni, in all my blackness, was fairer and +more to be desired. I said, ‘The whites breed fine men, but their +women--bah!’ In my ignorance I spat at them. They are ashamed of such +wives, I thought, that is why the white men always come alone. I was +wrong. They keep their fairest women safe at home and send here such +as are old and of no further use. It is love that has taken our cousin +again so soon to England. And he will return with a woman fairer than +the whitest star--his wife! It will be a short shrift for you then, +Nanza, for the Sultan will brook no heir save of his own breeding.” + +This time his sister’s remarks left Nanza very quiet. The truth of her +last observation struck home with considerable force. + +Apprehensively Cooper glanced at him. + +“Yoni is crazy,” he said presently. “Between a man and his sleep come +other things than love. Vengeance, for instance.” + +Nanza’s eyes came towards him. + +“Vengeance,” he echoed. + +“Vengeance that is all but completed,” Cooper said. “Now, as always, +our Sultan works alone and says no word until all is completed. Two +weeks from now he will be here with his victim, trapped in a way that +only he could have thought out.” + +In the manner of a savage beast about to spring, Nanza took a step +forward. + +“Not Lionel de Tourville’s son!” + +“The Gods have granted even greater vengeance. His daughter!” + +“His daughter! There was but a son!” + +“The son our Sultan searched for has been dead many years. In his +place came a daughter of whose existence we knew nothing. She is +young. Hardly more than a child. To seize her forcibly might have +meant her death before she reached Kallu. The trapping has been long +and most skilful. My marriage was part of it--she is as a sister to my +wife. Under the guise of friendship our Sultan is bringing her out +here, on a visit to my wife. She is in his care, trusting him! Who but +the Sultan could have conceived a plan so deep?” + +Nanza laughed, the great roar of some wild beast. + +Then another aspect of the situation struck him. + +“Why has this been told to you who are but a servant?” he asked +haughtily. “And not to me, his cousin and his heir?” + +“It wasn’t told to me. I learnt it for myself. When we were in England +together he heard a rumor, but he did not mention the matter again, +and I thought, as often before, the scent had proved false. When I got +out here he was constantly urging me to get my wife a companion of her +own color. I was puzzled, for our Sultan has no love for the English, +man or woman. I plied my wife with judicious questions, and soon +guessed his reason.” + +“Are you sure of all this?” Nanza asked. + +“Quite sure. And remember, the Sultan has no liking for others to +discover his secrets. I should not have said anything about it had not +that woman’s foolishness put madness into you. It was no love business +that took the Sultan again to England. He was working for Kallu. For +the vengeance he promised twenty years ago. Vengeance for a murdered +queen. Vengeance for Irena. It was this that made him pace at night, +not love as this woman would have you think. And he has remained +unmarried because he would see his cousin Nanza heir. For your mother +claimed him kin when all his father’s race had turned against him.” + +Yoni’s voice broke in sullenly. + +“How like a man! Our Sultan has remained unwed because he has no real +love to give to women of my color. He would have a white wife, of the +class of his father’s people.” + +“If the Sultan wished he could have a white wife, even as I have,” +Cooper retorted. + +“Bah!” she said with intense scorn. “I’ve seen your wife. She is a +child of the people. I am Yoni, Keeper of the Stars, priestess of +Doomana, noble in my own land, and I know. There is a difference with +the whites as with the blacks. Our Sultan would not have a wife such +as yours. He would have a wife from the stock of his father, who was a +noble of England.” + +Angrily, Nanza turned on his sister. + +“A curse on you and your mad talk, Yoni,” he cried. “That I should be +afflicted with a fool for a sister! Go, this is man’s business and no +place for you.” + +With blazing eyes Yoni faced her brother. + +“I am Yoni, Keeper of the Stars. Night gives me many eyes, and I see +deep into the souls of men. Yet I am a fool as you please to say.” + +With a haughty gesture she lifted the reed blind and went from the +room. + +Going to the water’s edge, she stood there watching the night. +Blackness surrounded her. And high above, the white stars mocked and +twinkled. + + + + + CHAPTER X + + “_They seem’d long hours._” + +In the west, ominous clouds were banked, lurid and luminous, +splashed and barred by the deep flaming crimson of the setting sun +that lay, a pool of fiery red, in the midst of them. Sullen heaving +waves ran right up to the land, if such it could be called; stretch +upon stretch of haunting, mysterious mangrove swamp, broken only by +the mouth of a river, the thick, muddy waters of which drained +greasily down to the sea. + +It was the scenery of the Bight of Biafra--mangroves, foul lagoons and +pestilential mud. A fetid waste that was neither land nor water, all +matted and grown together with rank, tangled creepers, so dense that +it seemed nature’s one desire was to keep any ray of light from +filtering through into the dark depths. + +The scene was neither beautiful nor cheering, but it had a grim +fascination as it lay there, sullen and secretive, lighted just on the +edge with somber liana-slung passages leading away into darkness. + +On the upper deck of the _Batava_, Lebrassa stood with his eyes on the +scene. He might have been studying the wild waste of swamp, or +listening to voices that were wafted across the awning-covered deck. + +A fortnight had passed since Leslie had made friends with Fletcher. +Since that night her acquaintances had increased, at one time +numbering fully half a dozen. When the _Batava_ reached African waters +they had decreased as the vessel put in at the various ports. Now, as +it lay anchored off the mouth of the Calabar River, her friends on +board were reduced to two, not counting Lebrassa. + +One was Captain Fletcher, the other a Major Harding. The latter was a +man of about forty-eight, moreover a father, as Leslie discovered +before she had known him half an hour, with a daughter in England +about her own age. + +In spite of her new friends the girl did not altogether avoid the +mulatto. He was a pariah. She had been one for a while; her own +experience of the position had given her a keen sympathy for him, and +a certain amount of time she still spent in his company. + +Lebrassa did not appear to notice any change in her manner. He was the +same as ever, except that he was anxious she should make the most of +her new friends. So much so, that the fears Fletcher’s lecture had +roused were speedily lulled. + +A voice speaking at Lebrassa’s elbow made him turn round in his usual +bored, indifferent manner. + +“I can quite believe your tale about the Bight of Benin,” it said. + +“Which tale, Miss Graham?” he asked. + +“About the forty who didn’t come out,” she answered. + +Then she glanced again at the forbidding scene. + +“I wonder what goes on inside that dark landscape,” she added. + +“It’s an abode of wickedness. The essence of all the evil that oozes +out from the black heart of Africa.” + +“It’s your country, and you oughtn’t to say horrid things about it.” + +“So you consider it my country,” he remarked, smiling slightly. “In +your opinion I’m more in my element here than I was, say--the night I +had the pleasure of meeting you?” + +Leslie was sorry she had spoken. She tried to avoid all topics that +would make his black burden any heavier. But in his ways and speech he +was so like a white man that sometimes she forgot the mixed blood in +him. + +“I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly, a look of distress on her +face. “But from something you once said, I imagined you’d lived out +here nearly all your life.” + +“I’ve spent more than half my life out here,” he replied. “I came when +I was about as old as you are now, quite twenty years ago. By now, I +suppose you’re right in calling it ‘my country’,” he added, the +bitterness she now knew in his voice. + +With curiosity she glanced at him. He interested her deeply, this big +strange man whom nobody liked, for no reason at all so far as she +could see, except an accident of birth. + +Often she had wanted to ask him about himself, who he really was and +where he came from. And this seemed an opportunity. + +“Were you born in England?” she asked, rather nervously. + +Leslie knew she ought not to display so much interest in him, but +somehow she could not help it. At times too, she had the queer feeling +of there being a link between them, but she put this down to the fact +of their both being pariahs. + +“No,” he said. “I was born in Africa. In a country deep in the +wilds--my mother’s country. When I was a baby, my father took me to +England. At eighteen I came back to Africa. But, during the interval +I’d become too civilized. I couldn’t settle down in my mother’s +country--couldn’t quite break away from the white side. So I came down +to Calabar, just to stay on the edge of it.” + +“But didn’t you like England?” + +“It wasn’t that so much as that England didn’t like me,” he said +rather grimly. + +He changed the conversation. + +“You’ve been asking me questions, Miss Graham, so I’m going to +retaliate, and ask you one.” + +“What is it?” + +“I often wonder what your mother was like, and why you weren’t called +after her, instead of after--your father.” + +“My mother died when I was a baby. But my father always said I was +just like her, and not a bit like him. And I am named after her, +too--Leslie Sylvia.” + +“Why did you discard Sylvia in favor of the masculine Leslie?” he +asked. “I much prefer Sylvia.” + +On Lebrassa’s face was the quiet, well-bred smile that occasionally +came now when they were together. + +“I thought Leslie sounded more capable of looking after itself. Sylvia +has such a frail sound, as if it ought to be kept at home in +cotton-wool with some mere male to look after it. After I left school +and went to live with my father, he always treated me as if I were a +boy. He said I had my own way to make and I must get used to knocks. +It was a bit strenuous at first, but I got used to it.” + +“Poor little Sylvia! Does she always do just what this strong-minded +Leslie tells her?” + +“Now you’re laughing at me.” + +“Indeed I’m not,” he said gravely, his mouth twitching with amusement. +“In all seriousness I ask you--at a critical moment would ‘Sylvia’ or +‘Leslie’ come uppermost?” + +“I won’t answer such a silly question. I’ll go and do my packing and +leave you to laugh alone.” + +When she left, Lebrassa’s gaze went again to the gloomy landscape, and +stayed there in a fixed, brooding manner. + +It was nearly midnight when the vessel anchored off Duke +Town--haunting, tropical midnight, pitch-dark, close, and breathless. +A thick fog hung over the river, deadening every sound, shutting out +every light of the settlement on the near bank. + +On the boat all was bustle and confusion, but when the noise died down +a little, weird sounds came drifting in from the surrounding darkness. +Voices out on the river were shouting and singing in a guttural +language. In a soft, sickly manner the thick, muddy water lapped on +the vessel’s side. Through the darkness came the snort and whistle of +a wandering steam launch trying to locate the steamer. + +In even quieter lulls, strange sounds from the distant bank were +heard. The splashes and heaving sighs of uncouth monsters gamboling; +hoarse bellows and soft slithering noises as of heavy bodies sliding +over mud; uncanny moans and grunts and screams, mingled and mixed +together in a mysterious, whispering whole by the all-enveloping fog. + +Everything loomed big and haunting, wild and ghostly, distorted out of +all proportion by the dense mist. + +Near the gangway Leslie stood with Lebrassa, looking about her with +rather nervous eyes. This uncanny land of fog and darkness was not the +scented, moonlit, tropic Africa Molly’s letter had led her to expect. +This fact, combined with the strangeness of everything, the eerie +night and the unknown awaiting her there, made the girl a trifle +hysterical. + +With a triumphant snort, the wandering steam launch reached its +destination. Leslie leant over the rail, straining through the murky +atmosphere to get a glimpse of the occupants, hoping to see her +friend. Only one person came up the gangway; an Englishman, parched +and sun-dried, with the bloodless look of a grasshopper. With some +surprise he glanced at her and Lebrassa, then he went along the deck +to a spot some yards away where Fletcher and Major Harding were +standing. + +Presently, out of the shrouded gloom, came the muffled splash of oars. +The sound made Leslie move nearer the gangway, thinking that, at last, +Molly was coming. + +A big boat loomed up, manned by half a dozen savages, naked but for a +wisp of cloth round their loins. Black figures with faces like +grotesque masks, skins that steamed in the faint yellow lamplight, +blood-shot eyes that rolled and glistened, and mouths, big, loose and +red, that jabbered in a horrible manner. + +Fascinated, Leslie watched them. + +For whom were they coming? To whom were they calling, with awful +beast-like voices? + +They were calling to--Mr. Lebrassa! And he was answering in the same +way! It was Molly’s hell. Molly’s hell that she was going to! + +A sweet, wild laugh just beside him took Lebrassa’s attention quickly +from the boatmen. + +“What’s the matter?” he asked sharply. + +“Shall I… shall I get like them if I stay out here?” + +“What on earth are you talking about?” + +“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Leslie said in an hysterical manner. +“Where’s Molly? Why doesn’t she come?” + +“My men have just brought a message saying she’s not well enough to +come and meet you.” + +Tightly Leslie’s hands clutched the rail, all hysteria knocked out of +her at the thought of Molly being ill. + +“Where’s Mr. Cooper?” she asked, scanning the boatload of savages. + +“He couldn’t leave her.” + +“I must go to Molly at once,” Leslie said, everything forgotten but +her friend. + +“We’ll start now, if you wish,” Lebrassa replied. “I’ll send my men +back for your luggage.” + +“I must just say good-by to Captain Fletcher and Major Harding,” +Leslie answered, turning in their direction. + +It was very evident the group had been watching her, for her first +movement in their direction brought Fletcher towards her. + +“Where’s Mrs. Cooper?” he demanded. + +“She’s too ill to come.” + +“Then you mustn’t think of landing to-night.” + +“But I must go to her,” Leslie replied. + +“You can’t leave the vessel at this time of night, all alone.” + +“I shan’t be alone. Mr. Lebrassa is going with me.” + +“Good heavens, child, you’re not in England now, or dealing with an +Englishman. If you must go, let me take you up in Atherley’s launch. I +know where the place is.” + +Leslie’s mouth set in the obstinate way it did on those rare occasions +when Fletcher’s temper got the better of his judgment and he said +anything in the least degree disparaging about Lebrassa. + +“I won’t insult Mr. Lebrassa by refusing to go with him.” + +Leslie left him wrathful and gloomy and went along to Harding. + +“I’m going, now,” she said, “so this will be good-by.” + +“Hardly ‘good-by’ as yet, Miss Graham. Dr. Atherley has kindly placed +his launch at our disposal, so you’ll let us have the pleasure of +seeing you to the end of your journey.” + +“It’s very thoughtful of you, but Mr. Lebrassa’s boat has just come.” + +Harding glanced at Fletcher. He had noted the other’s interview with +the girl, and he had made a final effort to keep her in safe custody. + +“Good-by,” Leslie said, holding out a hand to Harding. + +With fatherly tenderness he took it. + +“You mustn’t desert me altogether, Miss Graham. I miss my own little +girl dreadfully, so will you promise to bring Mrs. Cooper to my +bungalow sometimes and pour tea for me?” + +“I don’t think Molly would care to go anywhere.” + +“Well, if you can’t persuade her to come with you, come alone.” + +Gratefully Leslie smiled at him. + +“It’s awfully decent of you to try to make things easier for me, but I +knew just what I was coming to. Molly didn’t try to deceive me. And I +shall be very pleased to come and see you sometimes.” + +With a pleasant smile at the Major and a cold nod to Fletcher, Leslie +joined Lebrassa. + +Fletcher watched the two as they disappeared down the gangway. Then he +went to the rail in time to see the big boat, with its crew of +savages, swallowed up in darkness. + +To Leslie, as she left the _Batava’s_ side, there came a sensation of +all known things gliding away--an uncanny feeling that made her +shiver. She cast a quick glance back at the steamer, and stifled a +desire to ask Lebrassa to stop and take her back to the world she +knew. With an effort she suppressed the wish and tried to interest +herself in her surroundings. + +When one of the negroes struck a match, the sharp scratch made her +heart give a choking jump. A moment later a lantern flared up in the +bow. The combination of flickering light and curling miasma caused +wild, distorted shapes to dance in the shrouded gloom, and cast weird +shadows over the savage crew. + +With hands clasped tightly together, Leslie watched the negroes. + +Occasional grunts broke from them as they pulled and sweated at the +oars to the accompaniment of a low, whining chant. To any one fresh +from civilization, they were very unlike human beings. This Leslie +realized as she watched them, horror-stricken at the thought of Molly +being married to one of their race. + +A movement at the tiller brought her mind back from the naked crew to +Lebrassa. + +The fitful light rendered his swarthy face darker than usual, and the +negro in him showed more as he sat gazing intently ahead, picking out +a difficult passage by sounds and signs that only senses attuned to +the slightest noise and shadow could have noticed. + +Leslie watched him. Never had she seen him look quite so dark, quite +so much like a negro before. + +“I’d like to give him a coat of black paint and a covering no bigger +than a handkerchief, and see what I thought of him then.” + +Fletcher’s words, accidentally overheard that night in the hotel, came +back to her mind. + +What _would_ she think of him then? + +A thrill of horror went through her. + +All Fletcher had said concerning Lebrassa’s sort and color returned +with an appalling rush. With it came a sudden realization of the +loneliness of her present position, and the terrifying knowledge that +she really knew nothing at all about Lebrassa. + +With fearsome speculation she watched him, noting, as she had never +done before, every line and flaw on his face, the latent savagery in +his eyes, the cruel set of his mouth, the whole stamped with the +unmistakable seal of reckless dissipation. + +What if she had been wrong all the time? What if he _were_ the Hyena? + +Leslie tried to crush this thought back. But it would come uppermost. +During the voyage out she had heard many terrible tales about this +mysterious rebel chieftain, the mere recollection of which made her +shiver. + +Lebrassa must have noticed the shudder that ran through her, for he +glanced sharply at her. + +“What’s the matter?” he asked quickly. + +Trying to stifle her terror, she looked at him. + +“Have--we much further to go?” + +He must have noticed the break of fear in her voice, for he smiled at +her gently. + +“There’s nothing _you_ need be afraid of,” he said softly. “Fifteen +minutes from now you’ll be with your friend.” + +His cultivated voice comforted her. It made her remember he was very +different from the creatures rowing the boat. + +Almost as he spoke, a faint luminous light appeared in the darkness +ahead, and grew bigger and redder and more lurid as they approached +it. + +“What’s that?” she asked. + +“The light of my wharf. The end of your river journey.” + +The oars were shipped, and black, weed-grown piles loomed up. Some of +the crew leant over and pawed along the slimy wood until steps were +reached. + +As Leslie mounted them, she experienced the uncomfortable feeling of +some one’s gliding away at her approach, of unseen eyes watching her +from out of the darkness. She was glad of Lebrassa’s company, and +stayed close beside him while the negroes went to the trading factory +to fetch a hammock in which she was to be carried up to the villa on +the hill. + +As they stood together, out from the night came the sudden throb of a +native drum, a roll of wild music with little intermittent taps. + +Another answered it, a faint echo in the distance. + +The sound startled the girl. Major Harding had told her how the +African tribes signalled to each other in this fashion, sending +messages from place to place with amazing rapidity. She wondered what +the drums were saying, and why, the moment she landed, they should +roll their wild music through the night. + +The sound left Lebrassa tense and listening. + +In the faint light of a dying lamp overhead Leslie glanced at him. The +look on his face was one she had never seen before: an expression of +tigerish ferocity. + +“What are they making that noise about?” she asked nervously. + +“It’s in honor of your landing.” + +He laughed, in a manner both savage and tender. For the message of the +drums was--that he had returned, and with him was his enemy’s +daughter! + +His look and laugh made the girl shrink from him. The lamp overhead +flared up wildly. In the sudden glare she saw a pair of eyes watching +her intently. Then all light died away as the last roll of a drum came +echoing down like a faint sigh from the unknown. + +Leslie remained in the darkness, conscious some one was creeping +stealthily up to her. She could see nothing, but she could feel an +unknown and hostile presence. + +A voice came out of the night, a wild jabber, loud and coarse, with a +note of the beast in it, and the sound sapped Leslie’s last remaining +scrap of courage. + +“Are you there, Mr. Lebrassa?” she asked nervously. + +At her question he laughed. + +He was there. So was she. And Kallu knew it! + +The depths of savagery in his tone made her shudder. All the fears +that had assailed her on the river returned four-fold. Fearsomely she +touched the arm of the man who loomed, solid, in the surrounding +darkness. + +“You’re not the Hyena, are you?” she asked in a hysterical manner. + +“If I said ‘yes,’ would you believe me?” + +“Please, please don’t make a joke of it when I’m here all--alone.” + +The terrified, imploring note in her voice made him draw her arm +through his, where he held it carefully. And Leslie was glad of the +feeling of safety that came with him. + +“So in a critical moment it would be Sylvia,” he said teasingly. + +“Would be Sylvia!” she echoed. + +Then in a shaky manner she laughed. + +“What made _you_ think I might be the Hyena?” he went on. “Am I so +very savage when we’re together? Or are you afraid that now I’ve got +you far away from your own sort that I shall fall on you and gobble +you up, as the wolf did little Red Riding Hood?” + +“It was all this strange haunted night,” she confessed. “I… I think I +had a sudden attack of nerves. It was stupid of me to say such a +thing. You’re not angry, are you?” she finished anxiously. + +“Do I sound as if I were?” + +“You sound as if you were laughing at me, but then you’re very good at +hiding what you really feel.” + +Lebrassa made no reply. He remained silent, her arm tucked through his +until the arrival of the hammock and lanterns broke the darkness +again. + +The party was soon stirring. Leslie lay in her litter trying to see +something of her surroundings. Only indistinct trunks of trees were +visible. In her ears was the sound of dripping moisture, an occasional +rustle in the undergrowth, far-away, moaning howls, the stealthy pad +of unshod feet, and the comforting sound of a firm, louder tread that +denoted a civilized presence. + +“Here’s your destination,” Lebrassa said, at length. + +His words made her sit up. She saw nothing but mist and trees and a +vicious thorny hedge lost either way in the darkness. There was the +sound of a gate opening. More mist and trees, and, finally, a halt at +the bottom of broad, wooden steps leading up to a wide, creeper-grown +balcony. + +The noise of their arrival brought some one along the veranda. A negro +loomed up, a man of about forty, of medium height and black as any one +of her bearers. Only his European dress and the look of intelligence +on his face marked him out as in any way differing from them. + +Before Lebrassa’s brief introduction, Leslie guessed he was Molly’s +husband. + +A desire to scream aloud seized her. With an effort she pulled herself +together. She must shake hands with him. For Molly’s sake she must +behave just as if he were a white man. + +“I’m sorry I could not come to meet you, Miss Graham,” Cooper said. +“But my wife is dangerously ill.” + +His words stunned Leslie. + +Lebrassa’s voice reached her. + +“Let me take you to the dining-room. You must have something to eat +after your tiring journey.” + +Impatiently she turned from him. + +“I must go to Molly at once. Will you take me?” she asked, looking at +Cooper. + +She had a vague idea of walking up the steps and along the balcony +with some one who, in stilted, foreign English was imploring her to +save Molly. + +Then she was taken into a lighted room. + +In the faint illumination of a shaded lamp she saw a trio of black +faces leaning over a bed where a girl lay moaning--two men and one +woman. + +Leslie had eyes only for the girl on the bed. Molly was there. Molly +who had done this dreadful thing for _her_ sake! Molly with her pretty +golden hair and sweet, gentle face, staring wildly at the figures +clustered around her. + +As Leslie crossed the room, she felt a sudden hatred for everybody +with a dark skin. Leaning over the bed, she tried to block out from +Molly’s poor wild eyes those terrifying black faces. + +“What are these people doing here?” she demanded, looking at Cooper. + +“They are two doctors and a nurse, Miss Graham.” + +“Send them away. I can manage quite well alone. I’ve nursed and +doctored Molly through several illnesses.” + +Leslie’s only idea was to clear the room of black people. + +There was some demur on the part of the negro physicians. In an +insolent, aggressive, patronizing manner they questioned Leslie’s +right to dismiss them. + +Pale and haughty, she faced them. + +“You will do as I tell you. Mr. Cooper has put his wife in my care.” + +She was of the dominant race and the room cleared. + +When the doctors and nurse had gone, Leslie turned to Cooper. + +“Will you see if Mr. Lebrassa is still here? And if he is, will you +say I’d like to speak to him for a moment?” + +He left immediately. + +Turning from the bed, Leslie took off her hat with trembling hands. +She was bending over Molly again, crooning little words of sympathy +and understanding, when a light tap disturbed her. + +Crossing the room, she drew aside the reed blind screening the +doorway. + +Outside Lebrassa stood. In his hands was a tray with coffee and +sandwiches. + +With an air of proud humility, as if he were more accustomed to be +waited on than waiting on others, he put the tray on a table just +inside the door. + +“You sent for me, so I took the liberty of bringing you some supper at +the same time,” he remarked as he put the tray down. + +“That was thoughtful of you,” she said, looking at him with eyes full +of gratitude. “I really wanted you to tell Mr. Cooper not to come in +here again to-night. I didn’t like to tell him myself. But… but Molly +will be much better just alone with me. I sent the doctors away too, +and I’m afraid I offended them, but they were only frightening her.” + +“I’ll see that Cooper and the rest of them keep out of here,” he +assured her. + +He half-turned to go, but Leslie’s hand on his sleeve kept him where +he was. + +“You’ll think me very silly,” she said quickly, in a nervous, +apologetic tone, “but I wonder if you’d mind waiting here for a bit. +I… I’d like to think you were here, that I’m not quite alone with--all +these strange people.” + +“I’ll gladly stay all night if it’s going to save you one moment’s +worry.” + +“I would like you to stay until it’s light again. Everything seems so +fearfully dark, everybody so… so different from what I’ve been used +to. It will be comforting to think I have a friend within hailing +distance.” + +In a peculiar manner Lebrassa laughed. + +“Friend, you call me?” + +All Leslie saw in his laughter and his remark was the fact that he had +once told her he had no friends. + +“Why not?” she asked. “You’ve always been a good friend to me.” + +“And you to me, Miss Graham,” he answered with a touch of feeling in +his usually indifferent voice. + +He changed the conversation. + +“But you mustn’t make yourself ill, looking after Mrs. Cooper. Let me +send the nurse back.” + +“Molly will be much better just with me, and I can manage quite all +right, especially now I know you’ll be here. Good-night, and thank you +so much.” + +From sheer gratitude Leslie held out her hand. + +Until now she had avoided shaking hands with him. In fact she had +avoided all personal contact, except on the occasions when her +sympathy had been aroused, or when sudden fear of the strange life she +had been plunged into had made her turn to him. + +Very cordially she gave her hand, for in her mind was the knowledge of +the suspicions that had assailed her during the boat journey from the +steamer. + +Lebrassa took it carefully. + +“This seals our compact,” he said, smiling at her, the quiet, +well-bred smile Leslie now knew and liked. “We are no longer enemies, +but friends.” + +“What nonsense you do talk at times. We’ve never been enemies.” + +“What about those bloodthirsty battles over the chess-board?” + +Leslie laughed. + +“Oh, those!” she exclaimed. + +For a moment Lebrassa held her hand. + +“Good-night, little friend,” he said, watching her closely. + +Freeing her hand he turned away rather sharply and went from the room. + +Once outside, for some minutes he stood, thoughtful and motionless, by +the reed blind, as if on sentry there. Then, with a sudden, fierce +movement, he went along to the dining-room, where Cooper was. + +“Who sent that message up to Kallu?” he asked in a peremptory manner. + +The question set Cooper fidgeting uneasily. + +“I sent no message,” he answered. + +“Who did then?” Lebrassa asked savagely. + +“Yoni must have.” + +“What made that woman interfere?” + +“She had some mad notion that you’d gone to England to get married, +and she sent word up to Nanza to that effect. He came down here +threatening to expose everything unless he knew exactly what was +happening. To keep him quiet I had to tell him it was Lionel de +Tourville’s daughter you had gone to fetch.” + +The reply left Lebrassa thoughtful. + +“What made you connect Miss Graham with Lionel de Tourville?” he asked +at length. + +“From what you told me that night in Harrogate, and from what I learnt +from my wife about her friend. I congratulate you on the clever way +you got the girl out here.” + +In a strangely unpleasant manner, Lebrassa laughed--a laugh that might +have been caused by his minions running foul of his orders, or his own +delight at having captured his enemy so neatly. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + “_But hate and friendship both find their end._” + +Outside the Lebrassa & Cooper factory, all was quiet and peaceful in +the early morning sun. Inside, the business of the day had started, +and Cooper was issuing orders to the colored assistants before +ascending to his office on the floor above. + +When he left the store to go up the steps leading to the balcony, Yoni +came out from behind the building. She followed him to the office and +leant against the door, watching him sullenly. + +Presently, as she showed no inclination either to speak or go away, he +looked up from his books. + +“Well?” he asked sharply. + +“I have seen her. She has a face like a star set in the black cloud of +her hair. Hands so small, fit for nothing save to hold the heart of a +man. And a voice that ripples sweet as flowing water.” + +“What of it?” Cooper asked impatiently. + +“Then you talk of vengeance!” + +“Why not?” + +Contemptuously she laughed. + +“Why not indeed! I’ve seen the Sultan with her. He’s her slave and +servant. He! The Lord of Doomana!” + +“He treats her as the white men treat their women,” Cooper explained. + +“She was afraid last night. I know, for I was close by and saw them. +He saw it too, and comforted her with soft words. I don’t know what +was said, for they spoke in her language. And he drew her arm through +his, and it might have been the earth’s greatest treasure for the care +he used.” + +Uneasily Cooper glanced at her, wishing his partner would come and +deal with this incubus of a woman. + +“As soon as my wife is able to travel we’re going up-country,” he said +in a soothing manner. “She, as my wife’s friend, goes with us. One day +she will stray from the camp and not return. Down here my wife’s story +will pacify the white men--that her friend was lost in the forest and +devoured by some wild beast. But you and I and the Sultan, Yoni, will +know what really happened.” + +“That she is to be taken to Kallu, to be sacrificed on the altar her +father fouled?” + +“Exactly.” + +“But if our Sultan is going to kill her, why does he act as if he were +her lover?” + +“He wishes her to believe him her friend, so that she’ll have no idea +what his motive really is.” + +“It’s a pastime he finds pleasure in, and would have more of. I +followed them last night. My night was spent in the garden +watching--the garden I’ve been free to wander in these many years, but +am now forbidden to enter. Why?” + +As Cooper ignored the question, Yoni answered it herself. + +“Because a Star has risen in the Heart of Darkness. I know. Have I not +spent my life at his feet? Are there no hands good enough to serve +that girl but he must wait upon her himself? Last night it was a tray +set with dainty morsels. This morning when she came from that room, +who went to meet her with the haste of a supplicant lover, to take her +to a lounge set in the sweetest corner of the balcony, to place +cushions at her head, to tempt her again with dainties, running to and +fro, a woman’s slave? Who? The Sultan!” + +Cooper’s temper was rising, but he was anxious to keep the peace. + +“The hunt needs great skill,” he answered in a dogged manner. “The +game is shy and frightened--a nervous girl feeling insecure in her new +surroundings. Our Sultan is lulling her into a sense of safety before +he makes the next move.” + +“It is a task men love--to soothe the fears of such as she. With +little hands so small and white, and eyes like twin flowers of blue +set in a roseleaf, other thoughts than vengeance enter the heart of +man.” + +Cooper’s supply of patience suddenly ran out. + +“Confound you!” he cried. “The truest word your brother spoke was when +he called you a fool.” + +After that, silence reigned in the office. + +Presently, the sound of some one coming up the steps made him heave a +sigh of relief. + +With eyes that had a glint of fear in their somber depths, Yoni turned +and looked at the man coming along the balcony. But she might not have +been there for all the notice Lebrassa took of her. + +“What’s this woman doing here?” he asked sharply, in the vernacular. +“I won’t have the natives loafing round my premises.” + +With a quick movement, full of grace and abandon, Yoni bowed deeply +before him. + +“I came to give my lord greeting,” she said. + +Without taking the least notice of her Lebrassa moved away. + +“Has my lord no greeting for his slave?” she asked with a note of +abject pleading. + +Lebrassa turned his back on her, and, picking up a budget of letters, +began to open and read them. + +Cooper glanced quickly from one to the other. + +“I don’t think you should be so offhand with her,” he said presently +in English, and with an air of diffidence. + +“Since when has it been my habit to propitiate?” + +“She knows too much. What’s more, she’s madly jealous of that girl.” + +A look of savage arrogance came to Lebrassa’s face. + +“I presume you mean your wife’s friend,” he said. “In future you will +refer to her as Miss Graham, and in no other manner.” + +With that Lebrassa left the office. + +He went to his private apartments, Yoni following him. + +“My lord is angry,” she said with a cringing air. + +“I have no use for those who disobey me.” + +In an anxious manner, she touched his arm. + +“I hoped--” she began. + +With a savage gesture, he shook her hand off. + +“Don’t touch me, woman,” he cried angrily. + +Alarmed and anxious, Yoni watched him. + +“Is it for nothing I’ve been your faithful servant these long years?” +she ventured. “I, Yoni, Keeper of the Stars, priestess of Doomana, who +gave all for the sake of love.” + +“Don’t talk to me of love.” + +“Essel, my cousin, who spoke first of love? My lord was a good pleader +in the dead days.” + +In loathing he looked at her, as if the mention of the blood tie +between them was more than he could bear. + +Watching him in a threatening manner, Yoni drew away. + +“And if I go to the white men and say, ‘Come, I will show you the +Hyena, the Sultan of Kallu--the man you have looked for these many +years’--what then?” + +“Do as you please, only keep out of my sight.” + +“My lord has no fear?” + +“Fear! Of what?” + +“It is he who won my heart, only to crush it. Essel, my cousin, see, I +am at your feet.” + +With a lithe movement Yoni was prostrate before him. + +With hatred and aversion, he turned his back on her. + +“Go back to the darkness that bred you. I’ve done with such as you,” +he cried savagely. + +There was a moan, like that of an animal in deadly pain. Yoni crept +out on to the balcony and crouched there shivering in the sunshine. + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + “_Yes, the times are changed, for better or worse._” + +Roses nodded sleepily over the veranda rail of Cooper’s bungalow, +saturating the air with their sweetness. Their scent mingled with that +of a hundred subtle foreign perfumes until the place had the +languorous atmosphere of an Eastern harem. Around the dwelling lay a +wilderness of a garden--a tangle of beautiful tropical trees and +shrubs, fenced with a high thorny hedge which protected from +inquisitive eyes its wealth of gorgeous flowers and cool greenery. + +One corner of the balcony was grown over by roses whose blossoms shut +out the blazing glare and turned the spot into a cool, scented bower. + +There two girls sat, one on a long cane lounge, the other on a +quaintly carved native stool, a tea-table beside them. + +Nearly three weeks had passed since Leslie’s arrival in Duke Town, and +during the time she had nursed Molly to convalescence. + +As Leslie was pouring tea, footsteps along the veranda made her glance +in that direction, a rather strained look in her eyes. Since only +colored people came to the bungalow, and as Cooper never returned +before dusk, she feared it was one of the native doctors of whom she +had seen more than enough during the last few weeks. + +Coming round the corner was a big, dark man in spotless white. On +seeing him an expression of relief came to her face. + +“What are you doing here, Mr. Lebrassa?” she asked with mock severity. +“My patient isn’t allowed any visitors as yet.” + +“I heard Mrs. Cooper was able to get up to-day, and I wanted to be the +first outsider to congratulate her on her recovery,” he explained, as +he paused beside Molly’s chair. + +“You must congratulate my nurse, not me. But for Leslie I should never +have pulled through.” + +“I didn’t do much,” the younger girl replied. “I just sat round and +gave you bites and sups.” + +Affectionately, Molly’s thin arms went round the neck of the girl +sitting on the low stool beside her. + +“Modesty is Leslie’s great failing, as you may have noticed, Mr. +Lebrassa. Won’t you sit down?” she finished, glancing at a chair +beside them. + +As Molly poured out tea for the visitor, Leslie studied him. + +She had seen nothing of Lebrassa since the morning following her +arrival at the bungalow. He came as a welcome change after society +limited to Cooper, whom she avoided as much as possible, and the two +negro physicians who were rapidly becoming a nightmare. + +She could quite understand Molly’s thinking Mr. Lebrassa almost an +Englishman; he was so different from those others. + +His voice broke in on her thoughts. + +“I hear you’ve not been out since you came here, Miss Graham,” he +said. “May I show you some of the local sights to-morrow afternoon?” + +“I’ve promised to have dinner with Major Harding to-morrow, and I +shouldn’t care to leave Molly both afternoon and evening.” + +Since leaving the steamer, Leslie had seen nothing of her two English +friends, but she had heard from one or the other daily. And with +Molly’s convalescence had come an invitation to dine with Harding the +following evening. + +Her reply brought a baulked look to Lebrassa’s eyes. + +His one desire was to keep Leslie away from all her own color, so that +she would not be able to make comparisons that would be to his +disadvantage. + +However, nothing of what was in his mind showed on his face as he +looked at the girl. + +“I was told you couldn’t be induced to leave Mrs. Cooper, even for +necessary exercise. Now I find you’re willing to desert her for a +whole evening.” + +“I’m the one to blame,” Molly put in quickly. “Leslie wouldn’t have +gone but I made her. She ought not to desert those nice men she met on +the boat. She’ll have few enough friends out here, goodness knows.” + +“You were wise in persuading her to go,” he said suavely. + +Then he looked again at Leslie. + +“When does my turn come? When may I take you sight-seeing?” + +“Any day that isn’t to-morrow,” she replied. + +“What about the day after? And what would you like to see?” + +“Something typically African.” + +“What’s your idea of ‘something typically African’?” + +“A place far away from missionaries and traders, that has never come +under white influence,” Leslie answered. + +“Away in the wilds, where the African can be seen in all his primitive +savagery, unrefined by the least touch of civilization, where human +sacrifice goes on daily in the local temple, and where human flesh is +displayed for edible purposes in the market square,” Lebrassa said, +continuing the theme. + +But although he spoke in his usual bored manner, a twitch of amusement +and teasing took the hard, set look from his mouth. + +Reproachfully Leslie looked at him. + +“You’re making fun of me again,” she said. + +“There’s a bush village a few miles away. What about that?” Molly +suggested, as she poured out a second cup of tea for the visitor. + +“Do you think that will be sufficient to satisfy Miss Graham’s craving +for undiluted savagery?” he asked. + +“You know I don’t like savage things,” Leslie exclaimed. + +Her remark silenced Lebrassa. + +Presently, he rose to go. + +After farewells were made, he lingered for a moment at Leslie’s side. + +“Can I persuade you to accompany me as far as the gate, Miss Graham?” +he asked. + +Because of all his kindness to Molly, Leslie was full of gratitude. +This brought her to her feet at once, anxious to comply. + +“I shall be glad of a walk,” she said. “And you can tell me the names +of some of these wonderful tropical flowers.” + +It was pleasant in the garden. The doves were cooing sleepily in the +waning afternoon sun. Butterflies, orange, scarlet, brown, opalescent +green, mauve, yellow and velvety-black flitted among the drowsy +blossoms. From bubbling fountains water dripped, and trees sighed +languidly in a light breeze that brought a rainbow shower of petals +falling slowly to the ground. + +Lebrassa seemed in no hurry to reach the gate. He went along +leisurely, pausing frequently, watching with veiled eyes the girl at +his side, answering her question about the flowers in a manner that +suggested he had a good knowledge of botany. + +Eventually when the gate was reached, he came to a halt. + +“Miss Graham,” he said earnestly, “will you believe me when I say that +had I known six months ago what I know now I’d have done my best to +stop your friend’s marriage?” + +“But what could you have done?” she asked with some surprise. + +“I ought to have known that a man of Cooper’s power would be able to +persuade a girl of your friend’s caliber into almost anything he +wished, if there was no counter-influence at work. I saw what was +happening, and I did nothing to prevent it. It pleased me to see her +going headlong to destruction, for I’ve a grudge against the universe, +a desire that the rest of mankind should suffer a modicum of what I’ve +been through in my time. But had I known she was the friend of my +little friend that was to be, I’d have put a stop to it.” + +There was a dreary note in his voice that Leslie now knew. + +“You’re blaming yourself for something that is not your fault at all,” +she said in a sympathetic manner. “And you mustn’t have a grudge +against the universe because of--your color. You imagine everybody +despises you because of it, and being proud, you get your oar in +first, and look at everybody with the deepest contempt. The world +won’t stand that sort of thing, and pays you back in your own coin. +You should look more amiably at the world. It’s not such a bad place +really if… if it weren’t for the mistakes that sometimes happen.” + +There was a strained look on Lebrassa’s face as he watched the girl +who gazed up at him earnestly and kindly. + +“I’m one of the mistakes,” he said. “But so long as you don’t despise +me, I’ll endeavor to mend my ways, and be more amiable to the world.” + +“Why should I despise you? You’ve never given me any cause to. Now +you’re standing in the sun without your hat,” she added. + +As if to draw him into the shade, Leslie laid a small, anxious hand on +his sleeve. + +Almost boyishly, he laughed. + +“The sun won’t hurt my head. That’s one of the few advantages attached +to being a nigger.” + +“You mustn’t call yourself that.” + +“Why not? It’s what the world has called me from my earliest days. I +don’t mind now, since you don’t despise me because of it. But there +was a time when the word made me absolutely rabid, when it left me +hovering between murder and suicide. It stirred depths in me your mind +could never conceive. I’d high ideals as a youngster. That word stood +between me and all of them. It was maddening to have ambitions and yet +be a ‘nigger,’ with sufficient white blood in me to make me appreciate +the fact in all its fullness. I----” + +As if afraid of where confessions might carry him, Lebrassa broke off +suddenly. + +“But I mustn’t worry my little friend with the career of a ‘mistake,’” +he continued more calmly. “For in the end I succeeded, but not in the +way I’d once hoped.” + +“You don’t worry me. I like to hear you talk about yourself. It +doesn’t do to keep things of that sort bottled up. They’re apt to +ferment and cause a terrific explosion.” + +“It was so with me, little friend. I fermented, and there was a big +explosion.” + +In his remarks Leslie saw nothing more than a reference to the huge +business he had built up in Calabar, and the fact that rumor said his +private life did not bear inspection. But the more she saw of the man, +the more excuses she could find for him. + +She returned to the house, pitying him from the depths of her heart, +guessing a little of what he had suffered. + +Lebrassa was well to the fore in her mind the next evening as she +dressed for Harding’s party. + +In from the balcony drifted the sound of the strange negro voices. To +celebrate his wife’s recovery Cooper had invited a dozen or so guests +to dinner. + +Leslie knew she would have to make an appearance in the drawing-room +before she left. She also knew that with Molly’s recovery there would +be more and more of the negro element to contend with. + +Presently, erect and fearless-looking, Leslie entered the +drawing-room. + +A coal-black negro, male or female, in evening dress, is not a pretty +sight. This the girl realized as she gazed at the assembly. Her +thoughts went to Lebrassa as she had seen him the afternoon before, +olive-skinned, with well-cut features, immaculate in white drill, +bare-headed in the sun that marked out the silver threads in his +crisp, wavy black hair, and the deep-cut lines of dissipation on his +face. He had been laughing in a way she had never seen him laugh +before, laughing as if his black burden had suddenly dropped from him, +laughing in a way that took all the cruel look from his +mouth--laughing and calling himself a “nigger”! + +And she had come out to Africa thinking all educated negroes would be +like Mr. Lebrassa! + +As Leslie entered the room one of the black doctors crossed to her, +taking in every detail of her frock, letting his eyes dwell on her +slim, bare arms and slender white shoulders in a manner particularly +offensive. + +The girl detested him, and Molly’s convalescence had come as a blessed +relief from his almost constant presence in the bungalow. + +“I was wondering where you were, Miss Graham,” he said. “I have been +looking forward to meeting you unofficially, and without the reserve +professional etiquette demands between doctor and nurse. It is quite +ten years since I had the pleasure of dining with an English lady, +except, of course, my hostess. It will remind me of my college days, +when, if I may say so, I numbered many charming English ladies among +my friends.” + +“I’m dining with Major Harding to-night.” + +It gave Leslie untold pleasure to be able to say this. Those other +“charming English ladies” this specimen of educated African referred +to would hardly have been invited to grace Harding’s table. + +“Is that not somewhat unusual?” + +“Unusual! What do you mean?” + +“I fancied from what I saw of English society--I may, of course, have +been mistaken--that it was not customary for young ladies, +unchaperoned, to go to the residences of their gentlemen friends.” + +A small face, very white and cold, looked back unflinchingly at the +leering, insinuating black one. + +“I’m not a member of English society now, so I needn’t consider its +customs.” + +With that Leslie turned her back on him. She crossed to where Molly +was sitting. There she stayed for a few minutes, watching the crowd of +black faces that seemed suddenly to bear down upon her, bowing coldly +as Cooper introduced his various friends. + +With a sense of unspeakable relief she heard her hammock announced. + +As Leslie was jogged along to Harding’s bungalow, she found it in her +heart to wish she had taken Lebrassa’s advice and remained in England. +Although Molly had warned her what to expect from the white side, she +had not said what Leslie might have to put up with from the black. + +She was very quiet and subdued during her dinner with the Major, so +much so that he was sorely tempted to ask what the matter was. + +However, during the course of dessert, she told him of her own accord. + +“Major Harding, it was kind of you to ask me here to-night. Molly has +a dinner party on, so I hesitated about coming here because of that. +But she insisted on my coming.” + +“I’m sorry if my invitation clashed with Mrs. Cooper’s arrangements.” + +“It doesn’t matter in the least. I… I’d much rather be here.” + +Wondering what had happened, in a very fatherly manner he looked +across at her. + +“Whenever you feel ‘you’d much rather be here,’ come without waiting +for any invitation. I want you to look upon my bungalow as your second +home, a place you can run in and out of just as you wish. Whenever +Cooper has friends, you come to me. For I don’t think you’ll care much +for colored society.” + +Leslie’s big, beautiful eyes suddenly grew moist. + +“No, I don’t think I shall,” she said huskily. + +By now Harding knew what the matter was. He turned the conversation +into other channels. And as they talked together, he wondered how long +it would be before this foolish, quixotic little girl came and told +him she had decided to return to England. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + “_What is the tale you are telling?_” + +It was midnight when Leslie arrived back at the garden gate of +Cooper’s residence. Dismissing the hammock and its bearers, she went +up the silent, leafy path alone. Everything around her lay still and +unmoved, as if carved out in black and white marble. And the streaming +flood of moonlight had swept away all life and sound. + +However, as she neared the bungalow a sudden burst of laughter brought +her to a halt. It announced that Cooper’s guests were still there. The +fact sent her down a side path, with the idea of staying in the garden +until she was quite sure they had departed. + +For some distance she went along, until a wide stone seat was reached, +set in a secluded corner under a trio of palms. Close by, a fountain +bubbled from a moss-grown gargoyle into a deep, clear pool set round +with a wealth of ferns. The soft, warm air was heavy with the +intoxicating odors of a thousand tropical flowers. Occasionally the +trees sighed softly as a faint, scented breeze stirred them. + +It was a garden to dream in, a place of almost unearthly beauty, yet +over it hung a dreadful black shadow, so dense that at times it +blotted out all its charm. + +All at once a slight movement just behind her made Leslie turn +quickly. Coming round the side of the seat was something quite small +and not in the least terrifying. + +Leslie had always imagined fairies to be white, but this one was +brown. Moreover the average fairy has on some sort of drapery. But +this wore only a string of blue beads round its neck, and a gold +bangle on one fat wrist. + +Hesitatingly it advanced, very naked and very unashamed, one finger in +its mouth, and staring at her with great, solemn, dark eyes. + +Reassuringly she smiled. It was quite the funniest wee thing she had +ever seen. Some one’s small girl-baby who had strayed into the garden. + +Then to the civilized mind came the feeling it needed some sort of +drapery. Leslie took a silk shawl from her shoulders, wrapped it +around the tiny golden-brown statue, and lifted it to her knee. + +There it stayed, still sucking a finger and staring at her gravely. + +On the seat was a box of chocolates Harding had given her. + +Leslie put one in the baby’s mouth. It was eaten with evident relish. +Then a fat finger rubbed her shoulder in a way most openly interested +and curious. + +It was so absurd, having that soft little finger rubbing her as if to +remove the coating of white that Leslie laughed. And her laughter made +a tiny brown face screw up in a companion smile. + +All at once the tinkle of barbaric ornaments made Leslie glance round +again. + +A woman was coming towards her, quite a savage, with nothing more than +a cloth draping her, and a profusion of gold and ivory ornaments. + +With a friendly smile Leslie looked at the newcomer. Doubtless she was +the brown baby’s mother in search of her truant offspring. + +“Is this your little girl?” she asked. + +There was no reply. As Leslie had spoken in English, she had not +really expected one. But the mournful expression in the woman’s great, +dark eyes made her quick sympathy rise; there was so much pleading in +them, such unutterable sadness. + +“What’s the matter?” she asked gently. + +Although Yoni did not understand what Leslie said, she heard the +kindness in the white girl’s voice. And this fact brought her to her +knees, pouring out a flood of wild, heart-broken, imploring words. + +Leslie placed a hand on the brown woman’s shoulder. + +“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered in a gentle, +distressed manner. “I wish I did, and then perhaps I could help you.” + +It was just as well that Leslie did not understand what Yoni was +saying. + +The latter belonged to a race used to sharing a man’s heart with half +a dozen other women. She was imploring Leslie to be merciful, to spare +her one scrap of their lord’s affection, referring to her child to +prove she had some claim on him, offering to be this new Star’s slave +and servant if only one corner of their mutual master’s heart were +given back into her keeping. + +Carefully, Leslie held the solemn brown baby, wondering what the +trouble was, feeling the outbreak was caused by something more than +the temporary loss of the child. + +As she sat there, puzzled and distressed, she heard some one coming +along the path. A moment later there was a quick, fierce movement +followed by a savage, guttural exclamation, startling in its unbridled +ferocity. + +The sound made the white woman jump up quickly and the black one +crouch down, shrinking against the skirt of her supposed rival. + +Leslie had always feared that somewhere in Lebrassa, in spite of +education and the tone good breeding brings, the latent savage might +linger. Now it seemed to her that she had never seen so much +concentrated fury on any face before. + +“What is the matter, Mr. Lebrassa? What has made you so angry?” she +asked quickly. + +Her voice seemed to penetrate his fury. He stopped abruptly. There was +a tense strained feeling in the air, as if he were wrestling with a +very demon of wild rage. In the passion of the moment he forgot that +lack of a common tongue barred out all conversation between the two +women. + +“I fear I startled you, Miss Graham,” he said hoarsely, “but I thought +this woman had molested and frightened you.” + +Rather nervously Leslie laughed. + +“She hasn’t frightened me. But you did though, coming stampeding down +that path like a rogue elephant.” + +Her reply said she had learnt nothing of who and what Yoni really was. + +“I’m truly sorry,” he said, “but you frightened me first. I heard you +come in, but as you did not appear in the bungalow I began to wonder +what had happened. So I searched the garden and came upon you in this +secluded corner, annoyed, as I thought, by this woman.” + +Yoni still knelt by Leslie’s side, holding her frock in a desperate +clutch, with wild eyes watching Lebrassa. + +“She wants to tell me something,” Leslie replied. “But I can’t +understand a word she says, so now you can translate for me.” + +“It’s rather late to start sifting native grievances. Besides you +mustn’t stay out in this treacherous night air. Let me take you +indoors.” + +Although he spoke in his customary bored, indifferent manner, there +was an air of forced calm about him that spoke of a tornado raging +within. + +Sensing trouble, Leslie stuck to her guns. + +“I’d like to help her if I could. She’s so upset. Do ask her what the +matter is?” + +Lebrassa suddenly realized that if he refused, Leslie might take Yoni +up to the bungalow and get one of the servants to act as interpreter. + +Yoni’s threat to expose him he had taken for what he knew it was +worth, but it had never entered his mind that she would dare to accost +Leslie. The fact maddened him, both by its unexpectedness and the +thought of what the consequences would have been if one of the +servants had found the two together. It would have swept away all he +was working for--the desperate hope that Leslie might overlook his +color and marry him. + +Yoni’s latest escapade, combined with previous acts of disobedience +that needed all his powerful brain to cope with, made him merciless +where she was concerned. + +He spoke to the kneeling woman, asking her how she dared disobey his +orders, and what she meant by accosting this English lady. + +In deadly fear Yoni whimpered out her reason. The explanation, if +possible, increased his rage. His infuriated reply, with the death +note in it that she had heard before for others, made her shrink +closer into the sanctuary of Leslie’s skirt, quick to know that there +her one hope of safety lay. + +The girl noticed Yoni’s terror and her convulsive shivers. + +“What have you said to make her so frightened?” she asked, laying a +protecting hand on the woman’s dark shoulder. + +“I was telling her to go away and not worry you. It’s some domestic +grievance. Nothing you can rectify,” he replied with an air of forced +calm. + +“She hasn’t worried me. But you’ve made the poor thing think she’s +done something terrible. Now say something nice to her.” + +Lebrassa’s only idea was to separate the two. But this was not so +easily done. + +Leslie’s kind heart, quick to sympathize with him, was equally quick +to respond to Yoni. She knew the matter was more serious than Lebrassa +would have her believe. And she was determined not to let her visitor +go until all fear was soothed. + +“I won’t let her go while she’s so terrified,” the girl continued, +“because she didn’t look like that before you came. And there’s not +the least need for you to be angry with her.” + +It dawned on Lebrassa that before he could part the two Yoni would +have to be forgiven. + +Turning to her, with forced gentleness he said a few words. They +brought her prostrate before him. + +The sight of a woman at a man’s feet left Leslie aghast. + +“She mustn’t do that!” she cried in astonishment. + +Then she was half-kneeling before Lebrassa also, trying vainly, with +her one disengaged arm, to raise Yoni. + +“Leave her alone, child,” he commanded in a strangled, wrathful voice. + +“Help her up. Don’t stand there looking as if you expected it,” she +replied with indignation. + +For no reason at all that Leslie could see, Lebrassa laughed. It +cleared the air. Bending down, he raised the prostrate woman to her +feet. + +“Now, what else am I to do?” he asked, turning to Leslie. + +There was about him the air of a subdued wild beast, pleased and +purring under the caressing touch of a favorite keeper. + +“Tell her to take the baby home.” + +Turning to Yoni, he delivered the message, together with one of his +own. His words brought her kneeling at Leslie’s feet, pouring out a +torrent of words. + +“What’s she saying now?” the girl asked. + +“That she’s your slave for ever.” + +“I don’t want any slaves. Tell her to go home and put the baby to +bed.” + +A further word from Lebrassa brought Yoni to her feet and sent her +down an adjacent path. + +Leslie watched her go. + +“I’m so glad you were nice to her,” she remarked. “I hate to see +people miserable.” + +Apparently Lebrassa had forgotten about the “treacherous night air.” +Instead of taking Leslie back to the house, he started talking. + +“What made you wander about the garden at this hour?” he asked. + +Leslie gave only part of her reason. + +“Because it’s all so beautiful. I like Africa by moonlight.” + +“In my old age I find myself going back to the tastes of my youth,” he +replied. “I’m heartily tired of Africa and craving for civilization. +I’ve just one scheme to put through, and if I can manage that in the +way I hope, I shall retire and settle down in Europe--Italy or Spain +preferably, where I wouldn’t be too conspicuous, where not one in +twenty would put me down for what I really am--a nigger.” + +With a gentle smile Leslie looked up at him. + +“Why don’t you try to forget about that?” + +“I’m afraid I can’t, though I’ve sought oblivion in various ways.” + +At that moment her only desire was to get his thoughts away from a +subject she knew was painful. + +“What scheme are you working on now?” she asked. + +With veiled tenderness he looked at her. + +“When it’s through I’ll tell you,” he replied. “And if it comes off in +the way I want, I may forget, or rather, perhaps cease to worry over +the fact that God, or more possibly the devil, made me half a nigger.” + +Leslie glanced at him. + +For some reason the same vague frightened feeling was upon her that +had assailed her in Liverpool when Lebrassa had spoken of his rose +garden that was “some distance from Calabar.” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + “_If we met, he and I--we alone--we two--_ + _Would I give him one moment’s grace to pray?_” + +On the plateau behind Duke Town, where several official bungalows +were situated, only one showed any sign of habitation. From there a +blaze of light flared out, cutting like a gigantic knife into the +darkness. + +In this one lighted room silence reigned, a silence broken by the ping +of the ever-present mosquito and the occasional clink of ice on glass. +The latter sound came from a table where three men sat playing cards +to an accompaniment of whiskey and soda. + +Through the open door leading to the balcony came the lash of driving +rain and the steady pour of the torrent rushing down from the +corrugated iron roof. + +Between the deals Harding looked across at his guests. + +“You two will have to spend the night here,” he remarked. + +With the readiness of bachelor freedom, Fletcher and Atherley agreed. + +For the next half-hour the game went on without a break. One o’clock +chimed as Fletcher rose to fetch a further supply of soda-water from +the sideboard. + +As he stood there a slight noise out on the balcony made him glance +towards the door. + +“Good Heavens! What is that?” he cried, darting in that direction. + +His voice made the other men look round, and what they saw brought +them to their feet. + +A girl stood in the doorway, a little thing of mud and blood and long +loose wet hair where golden stars flashed. + +She stood for a moment gazing at them. Then she laughed, a wild, sweet +sound, and ran toward Fletcher, collapsing just as he reached her. + +“What is it, child? What has happened?” he asked hoarsely, as he +caught her. + +Only meaningless laughter answered him. + +Over Leslie’s dripping head, he looked at Harding and Atherley. + +“My God, if he has injured her! My God, if he has injured her!” he +said in cold, merciless reiteration. + +By now the Major’s arm was about Leslie. + +“It’s all right, little girl,” he said soothingly. “You’re quite safe +now. You’re in my bungalow. Don’t you remember? You had dinner here +last night.” + +But the wild sobbing laughter went on, the result of a brain that had +given way under some dreadful strain. + +Over Leslie’s sobbing mirth Atherley’s voice came. + +“Let me have a look at her. Bring her in here, Fletcher,” he said, +leading the way to one of the bedrooms. + +He turned toward Harding. + +“Go round and rouse the cook and tell him to send one of his women +here at once.” + +In a dazed way Harding obeyed the doctor’s orders. + +Fletcher went back to the sitting-room and stood there until Harding +returned. When the Major came in, he crossed to a sideboard and, +opening one of the drawers, took out a couple of revolvers. One he +handed to Fletcher. + +“We can’t do any good here,” he said tensely. “So we’ll get along to +Cooper’s place and hear what he has to say about Miss Graham’s +plight.” + +Presently, with storm-proof lanterns, the two officers started across +the black, rain-washed plain. + +Cooper’s bungalow lay about a mile away. As they neared the place, +Harding stumbled over an unnoticed heap lying huddled on the ground. + +At once Fletcher switched his lantern on to it. + +“Something ghastly has been happening here,” he said. “Look at this.” + +Harding gave an exclamation of horror. + +What he had stumbled over was the corpse of a negro servant, hacked +and mutilated out of all human semblance. + +“What fiend’s work is this?” he asked hoarsely. + +As if the sight were no new one, Fletcher gazed at the corpse. + +“Let’s get on to the house,” he said in a brooding manner, “and see +how much more of this there is.” + +They went up the dripping, leafy alley, passing two similar heaps +within the next hundred yards. + +“It looks as though there had been a general massacre here,” Harding +commented as the third heap was passed, “and that these poor wretches +had been flying for their lives.” + +Fletcher said nothing, but each corpse they came to made his face more +tense and thoughtful. + +The house was reached at last. + +Strangely large and haunted it loomed up out of the pouring rain. A +sense of dire tragedy had gripped the two Englishmen. This increased +as they mounted the balcony steps and went toward the one lighted +room, which lay eerie and lifeless, in spite of the gay flare of +rose-colored lamps. There was no vestige of the human sounds that +should have accompanied those gay lights; nothing but the ceaseless +drip of rain, the mournful sough of the wind through wet trees, the +echo of their own footsteps, and the soft tapping of sodden roses on +the balcony rail. + +On reaching the open door, abruptly they halted, aghast at the scene +of desolation and destruction that lay before them. + +The pink carpet was muddy and blood-stained, and covered with the +marks of great, naked feet. The mirrors were smashed to atoms. The +furniture broken into splinters. The whole place looked as though an +army of maniacs had held riot there. There were four corpses in the +room, but one lay white and peaceful among the pale pink cushions of a +lounge, her white lace dress blood-stained, her shoes in a thick red +pool that oozed from a dismembered, mangled corpse at her feet. + +In awed silence Harding and Fletcher crossed to the lounge. They gazed +down at the dead girl, noting a little wet red patch in her golden +hair. Then Fletcher stooped and turned over one of the two naked +bodies lying face downwards on the carpet beside the mangled remains +that had once been Cooper. + +As he turned the corpse over, a savage, bestial face crudely scarred +and marked met his view. + +“I thought so,” he said grimly. + +“What?” Harding asked quickly. + +“This is some of the Hyena’s work. I’ve been on his trail too often +not to recognize the signs. I suspected it when we saw that first +mutilated corpse outside. Now I’m sure. I should know these +dog-toothed devils of his anywhere,” he said, glancing again at the +savage figure at his feet. + +“This rather explodes your theory about Lebrassa,” Harding commented. + +“Explodes it!” Fletcher echoed. “Not unless I find his corpse hacked +up in a similar manner,” he finished grimly. + +Then his gaze went to Molly, lying quiet and still among the pillows +so peaceful-looking that she might have been asleep. And from her his +eyes wandered down to a revolver still clenched in one of the hands of +the mangled heap at her feet. + +“Cooper shot her, poor little woman, rather than let her fall into the +clutches of these fiends. And thank heaven he did!” + +Going from the drawing-room, the two officers went around to the back +premises where the servants’ quarters were situated. The whole place +was like a slaughter-house, not a soul left alive. Every room was +trampled, mud-splashed and red-stained, as though a horde of wild +beasts had burst in searching for what they could kill. + +But nowhere did Fletcher find what he was looking for--some trace of +Lebrassa. + +“I wonder how that little girl escaped,” he remarked, taking a long +shred of muslin, that matched the tattered remains of Leslie’s frock, +from among the splinters of a wooden table, “for she was here, right +enough.” + +“I should say Lebrassa got her away and was killed in doing so,” +Harding replied. + +In a harsh, mirthless manner Fletcher laughed. + +“Let’s go on to his factory and see if he’s there,” was all he said. + +They left the bungalow and pressed on through the deserted night. No +sound reached them as they went along, except the steady pour of the +rain, the constant drip of the trees and the sobbing moan of the wind. + +On reaching the factory all was silence and darkness. No light showed +in the upper rooms, nor was there a sign of life anywhere about. + +With the idea of making an examination of the lower storey, they +started walking round the place. + +By the open door of one of the back storerooms, Fletcher came to a +sharp halt. + +“Some one has been here,” he remarked. “The same little crew who were +up above.” + +Holding up his lantern, he showed his companion great, red marks on +the white paint, where bloody paws pushed the door along on its +rollers. + +“And look at this,” he added on entering. + +A whole litter of stores lay about, covered with ominous red marks and +mud, as if a crowd had searched around hastily for certain articles, +casting aside everything except just what they desired. + +Fletcher surveyed the débris--scattered hammocks, waterproof rugs, +silk shawls, and cases of edibles. + +“It looks to me as if some one had arranged a very hurried departure +up-country. And he had not intended to go alone, either. A man of +Lebrassa’s type doesn’t take this sort of junk on a forced journey.” + +Fletcher’s foot touched a wooden case marked “Chicken in aspic,” which +had been crudely pried open and a dozen or so tins snatched out. + +“If Lebrassa isn’t upstairs, then he’s at the bottom of this, and he +_is_ the Hyena.” + +Harding made no comment. In silence they left the storeroom and went +toward the balcony. Noiselessly Fletcher went up the stairs with his +lantern well down against the wooden steps. They showed clean and +white, with none of the muddy marks that had been on Cooper’s veranda, +but it was quite possible the pouring rain might have washed off all +traces of the marauders. + +But when the covered part of the balcony was reached, he suddenly +grasped Harding’s arm. + +“Not so quick,” he whispered. “There’s a little matter here we’d +better investigate before going any further. What do you think of +this?” + +He pointed to a track of muddy feet, shod ones, a solitary pair, that +went along the spotless boards to the accompaniment of a trail of +water, telling plainly that some drenched person had passed that way +not so very long before. + +“It looks like Lebrassa’s trail,” Harding whispered. “I’m anxious to +hear what he has to say about to-night’s business.” + +“Not as anxious as I am,” Fletcher responded grimly. “But I doubt if +we shall be given an opportunity.” + +With screened lanterns, stealthily the two continued their journey. +Presently they turned the corner of the side where Lebrassa’s +living-rooms were situated. On reaching the first of the dark windows +they paused, listening for any sound that might come from the rooms +beyond. + +All was silent. Out from the black night came the mournful swish of +sodden palm trees and the constant roar of the downpour. + +“It doesn’t look as if any one’s at home,” Harding whispered. + +“Exactly. But for all that we’ll be wise to announce ourselves with +caution.” + +Drawing their revolvers, they took a few stealthy steps forward and +then halted. + +In front of them the living-room door stood wide open. Into it the +trail of muddy feet went. But there was no sign of their returning. + +Looking and listening they peered into the darkness, but they saw and +heard nothing. + +“Are you there, Lebrassa?” Harding called sharply. + +All was silent. + +They waited for a few moments, then entered, flashing their lanterns +quickly around the room. It was deserted, but all was straight and +orderly. + +The trail of the shod, muddy feet and stream of dripping water went +across the white matting into a room beyond. + +The two visitors followed the trail into a plainly furnished bedroom. +There was no sign of life there either. But in one corner lay a heap +of dripping, muddy clothes. + +“What does that mean?” Harding asked, gazing at the pile. + +“Possibly that we must look for Lebrassa in a very different guise +from any Calabar knows.” + +They turned to make a survey of a third chamber. + +This proved to be a study, sparsely but suitably furnished. There were +choice engravings on the walls and cases of classical books; and on +the writing desk, a solitary white rose in a crystal vase. + +English, French, German and Italian reviews and papers were scattered +on the tables and couches; there was every sign of education and +culture. + +All this Fletcher noticed. But most of all he noticed the half-blown +white rose that reminded him of Leslie, as it stood there fresh and +sweet and pure, and so lonely. + +As if he hated to see the blossom in the mulatto’s possession, he +crossed to the desk, and taking it from the vase, held it tenderly. + +“I wonder who and what Lebrassa really is,” he said. “He can be the +devil incarnate, yet this room shows quite another side of him.” + +In some surprise Harding was gazing about the study. + +“I know nothing at all about him,” he confessed. “During my time in +Calabar, he has gone his own way, ignoring both black and white, +holding occasional mad orgies in that slaughter-house on the hill, +which has given him an unsavory reputation throughout the Bight. I’d +never noticed him much until this voyage out. And I must say his good +manners and correct behavior surprised me, considering the reputation +he held.” + +Fletcher made no immediate reply. Thoughtfully he looked at the white +rosebud he was caressing. + +“I always have thought, and shall think,” he volunteered presently, +“that he knows more of Miss Graham’s history and who and what her +father was than the girl herself does. And I’m certain he was at the +bottom of her coming out here. To-night the climax arrived. Whether +Cooper endeavoring to spoke his wheel brought about the tragedy up +there I don’t know. But one thing I do know--whether he wants Miss +Graham for motives known only to himself, or because he’s infatuated +with her, he’ll stop at nothing to get her back again.” + +“That’s rather apart from your Hyena theory,” Harding remarked. + +“The whole business is beyond me,” Fletcher confessed. + +“Well, we’d better push on, and see what his employees have to say.” + +Retracing their steps, they went along a narrow forest track which led +to a cluster of native huts lying some quarter of a mile away. There, +everything was in order, and no clue to the night’s happenings could +be culled from the sleepy inhabitants. + +Leaving the tiny hamlet, they went along the river bank, choosing a +different route for the homeward journey. Presently they turned into a +little, tree-lined path leading up to the plateau. For some minutes +they pushed on through the driving rain, the wind full in their faces. + +All at once a sound reached them of some one coming swiftly down the +narrow way. Quickly the two officers came to a halt and veiled their +lanterns. + +By now the rain had ceased, and a fitful moon gave a silver tinge to +the night. + +As the two officers waited, peering intently ahead through the vague +gray of mist and moonlight, out of a side track a few yards ahead a +figure loomed, rendered very big and shadowy by the fog. + +Coming toward them was what appeared to be a coal-black negro, naked +but for a loin cloth. Over his shoulder what seemed to be a thick, +folded rug was slung. + +On seeing the two Englishmen, he turned abruptly into the thick growth +lining the track, and went swiftly through the screening forest. + +As he turned Fletcher caught a glimpse of his face. In an instant his +revolver rang out, but a hand jogged his elbow, spoiling his aim. + +“What are you thinking about, man?” Harding cried angrily. “You can’t +go about shooting at every nigger you see.” + +Fletcher, however, rushed after the negro, firing as he ran. One shot +reached home, for the man’s right arm fell limp. + +Facing round savagely, the negro dropped to his knees, slid his +shrouded burden to the ground, and crouched over it as if to screen +the contents from the pepper of bullets. + +His hand went to his loin cloth. He drew out a revolver, and started +firing at Fletcher. Although the shots were left-handed two whizzed +uncomfortably close to the latter’s head, and a third found a home in +the big muscle of his right arm. + +Without waiting to load his own weapon, Fletcher dashed on, to be +felled by a thunderous blow that changed his reckless fury to +blackness and dancing stars. But although he was half-stunned, he +clutched and held on to the bundle the negro was protecting. + +“By hell! You shall pay for this,” a mad voice bellowed in English. + +Through the stars and blackness Fletcher heard it, and it made him +cling desperately to the blanket the dark hands tried to snatch from +him. + +Relief came from behind. + +Before the negro could wrest his shrouded burden from Fletcher’s +stunned grip, Harding’s revolver rang out. + +The shot would have been fatal but for the deceptive fog. As it was, +it brought the blood streaming down the negro’s face from a scalp +wound. Dashing the blood from his eyes, the massive black figure broke +away, leaving the bundle in Fletcher’s hold. + +Harding flew after the negro. But the sounds of his progress drifted +farther and farther off, until they were lost in the night. + +Pausing, he listened, but no echo came from the surrounding darkness. +Then, quickly, he retraced his steps to where Fletcher was kneeling, +the blood streaming from his arm, beside the bundle the negro had +dropped and fought over. + +As if petrified Harding stopped, surprised beyond speech at the sight +the lantern showed. + +In the blanket Leslie lay, dead asleep--in the deep unconsciousness of +drugged slumber. + +His presence roused Fletcher. + +“You infernal idiot! That was the Hyena. Lebrassa. The devil +incarnate! And but for your damned interference I should have killed +him.” + +Harding said nothing. By now he had realized that what Fletcher said +was true. Getting out his handkerchief he bound up his companion’s +wounded arm. Then he picked up the sleeping girl. + +The two continued their journey in silence. Nothing more could be done +until headquarters were reached. + +On arriving at the major’s bungalow all was chaos. Half a dozen sleepy +servants wandered about aimlessly, unable to tell them anything except +that Atherley had gone to rouse the other officers. + +Presently, all wet and dishevelled, the doctor came in. His story was +very simple--so much so, that when he saw Leslie still asleep among +the pillows from which she had been snatched barely half an hour +before, he felt like doubting the truth of his own statements. + +After Leslie’s sleeping draught had taken effect, he had left her in +charge of the cook’s wife while he went back to the dining-room to put +away his drugs. A few minutes later he had returned to the bedroom to +find the negress bound and gagged and her charge gone. + +As Atherley probed about in the fleshy part of Fletcher’s arm on the +track of Lebrassa’s bullet, the events of the night were told to him. + +“It’s a queer affair altogether,” he said. “And the whole of this +night’s work we shan’t know until Miss Graham recovers. But this final +act shows how much Lebrassa will risk. He came here knowing this would +be the sanctuary she would make for, and hung about outside awaiting +his opportunity, relying on his disguise. What Miss Graham has said +about her father proves he was a hunted man. And, in the face of the +little we know, this goes to prove that Lebrassa was his enemy.” + +Turning towards a side table, Atherley picked up a heavy gold armlet. +Its plain surface was embossed with stars, the clasp a hyena’s head, +the whole slightly twisted, as if the soft metal had been bent into +some desired shape. + +“You have told me that Miss Graham said when her father was ill he +used to rave about a place called Kallu, which he said was not in +Africa. This proves the contrary, and shows Lebrassa as something more +than the Hyena.” + +Atherley held the armlet towards the two officers. + +“This thing,” he continued, “was round Miss Graham’s head, evidently +put there by its owner. Read what’s inside.” + +Fletcher took the jewel and glanced at an Arabic inscription engraved +on the inner surface. + +This ran: + + + “Essel, Sultan of Kallu, Lord of Doomana, Ruler of the Night, Heir of + all Darkness.” + + +The captain read the words aloud. + +“There’s an all-powerful sound about it,” Harding remarked. “Yet I +don’t know of any such place as Kallu.” + +“Nor I,” Atherley chimed in, “until Fletcher told me about it in +connection with Miss Graham. Now it occurs to me to wonder if her +father found the place and that was why he was hunted and I should +say, finally, trapped, considering his mysterious disappearance. Now +the mantle of vengeance has descended against the daughter.” + +“But if Lebrassa wanted to kill her he’s had every opportunity,” +Harding pointed out. + +“But he may have wanted to do it in some special place and at the +appointed season, after the manner of negro rites,” Atherley replied. + +So far Fletcher had said nothing. He just held the armlet looking at +it thoughtfully. + +Now he chimed in. + +“Blood feud and vengeance may have been at the bottom of it all +originally,” he said, “but in my opinion Lebrassa reckoned without +himself, without the white side which we know can be very dominant. A +man may be as big a brute as the Hyena yet to the end there’s +generally one thing that will bring any good that may be in him to the +fore. And that is love.” + +Pausing, Fletcher laid the armlet down on the table. + +“I’ve studied Lebrassa and I know Miss Graham,” he continued. “She’s +so frank and innocent and high-minded, without a thought or idea of +evil in her head that she would attract him apart from the added charm +of her _spirituelle_ appearance. On the voyage it was obvious that his +only idea when with her was to make a good impression. He may have +started with the idea of working off some blood feud, but it ended in +his own complete infatuation.” + +“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Harding put in. + +“I’m sure of it,” Fletcher said emphatically. “Such a love as his, the +wild passion of a blood-stained, half-caste African sultan, would only +fill a well-bred English girl with horror. Miss Graham had no idea +what she was dealing with. The mere fact of her being civil to him +would fan the spark into flame. I tried to warn her, but he was always +too clever for me. Any doubts I raised he speedily lulled. To-night’s +work may be the outcome of his rejected suit.” + +Picking up the armlet again, Fletcher eyed it in a contemplative +manner. + +“It’s impossible to say how far Lebrassa’s influence extends, for this +thing seems to point to his being not only sultan, but priest. In +these capacities I know nothing of him. But I know him as that +mysterious raider, the Hyena. What he’ll do from sheer daring and +deviltry will be nothing compared to the lengths passion and +infatuation will carry him. It would be better for Miss Graham had he +kept to his original intention and killed her. Knowing the man as I +know him, I fear he’ll get her into his possession again, in spite of +all we may do.” + +“What’s your suggestion then?” Harding asked. “Lebrassa’s not going to +have her if I can help it.” + +“We must get her out of the country the moment she’s able to travel. +And in such a way that nobody except ourselves knows where she is.” + +“If Lebrassa is as all-powerful as this leads us to believe, that will +be difficult. He’ll have spies all around the place, watching our +every movement,” Atherley commented. + +Fletcher made no reply. He was looking at the armlet speculatively, as +if measuring his strength against that of Lebrassa. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + “_Yet, I warn’d you--ah! but my words came true--_ + ‘_Perhaps some day you will find him out._’” + +The story now goes back to the afternoon preceding the events in the +previous chapter. + +Along a narrow forest track leading to a native village, Leslie and +Lebrassa were walking. They had come up the river by boat, landing +within easy distance of the place. + +The path was the merest jungle trail, twisting through aisles of +strange trees grown over with bright, flowering creepers. + +In course of time the village was reached. Their arrival was heralded +by the barking of dogs--a continuous chorus that brought the +inhabitants out from their huts. + +The hamlet was prettily situated among lime, palm and pawpaw trees. +And over the quaint brown huts, plantains, bananas and bamboo +fluttered. Outside each doorway, over fires made between four big +stones, the evening stew was being prepared. The smell was so +pronounced that Leslie made inquiries about the ingredients. She heard +its basis was well-hung fish, or dog, or monkey, seasoned with red +peppers, with palm oil added as a flavoring. + +In spite of wanting to see something really African, she was startled +by the villagers’ ways. For they lived and acted in a manner +alarmingly primitive. + +“Well, have you had enough of the undiluted savage?” Lebrassa asked +presently, as the girl’s face grew whiter and her eyes ever bigger. + +“I’d no idea they’d be quite so… so primitive,” she said in a rather +breathless manner. + +But for his foresight the village would have been even more primitive. +Lebrassa had sent instructions that the inhabitants must be on their +best behavior and decently clad. As it was, there were no adults going +about in a state of nature or acting in the manner of cattle. + +“Suppose we go and have a look at something civilized in the shape of +tea,” he suggested. + +“I am awfully thirsty,” Leslie said, glad of an excuse to escape from +what seemed to her a crowd of absolute savages. + +Lebrassa took her to a large hut on the outskirts of the village. +There was something about the place that suggested it had been +furnished for the occasion. The crude contents were supplemented by a +couple of comfortable wicker chairs and a folding table where a +tea-basket reposed. Leaving the girl in the hut, he went in search of +water fit for drinking purposes. During his absence, Leslie explored +the dwelling. There were two rooms, and in the inner one was +everything essential for a welcomed “wash and brush up” after a hot, +stifling walk in the tropics. + +Tea was set, cakes and biscuits laid out when she came through the +curtain screening the inner room. + +By the table Lebrassa stood, watching the kettle he had set to boil on +a spirit stove. + +Her entrance made him look up. + +“Well, in your survey of the African at home, what impressed you the +most?” he asked. + +Leslie could have said the scanty clothing, but she mentioned only a +secondary impression. + +“That the women were doing most of the work and the men loafing +about.” + +Her reply brought to his face the slightly teasing look that came +occasionally when he talked to her. + +“But think, Miss Graham, if a man has half a dozen wives he can’t +afford to keep them all in idleness.” + +“Have they half a dozen wives?” she gasped. + +“More--some of them. And if you care to argue the point I can prove +that out here in Africa, among a race of savages, women are more +highly prized and thought more of than in England.” + +“I don’t quite see how you’re going to do that.” + +The slightly pugnacious note in her voice made his teasing look +deepen. + +“In England when a woman marries, her father ‘gives her away’--not +only gives her away, but very often a considerable sum of money is +added to a dowry. But out here in Africa, does a dusky parent give his +daughter away, much less pay to get rid of her?” + +“What nonsense you talk at times.” + +“It’s not nonsense. I’m arguing my case. Out here if a man wants to +marry a woman he has to give some substantial proof of his affection. +‘Does this young fellow love my daughter sufficiently to give _me_ +three goats, two lengths of Manchester cloth, a case of gin and a +cuckoo clock?’ the dusky parent argues. ‘If not, I won’t give my girl +in marriage with a man whose affection is so limited that he won’t +deny himself a few little bachelor luxuries in order to get the +evidence I need.’ Now I ask you in cold, calm logic, which lover is +more worthy of the name, which father esteems his daughter higher?” + +“How absurd you are! Logic has nothing to do with it.” + +Her indignant reply made him laugh. + +“You’re trying to draw a red herring across the trail,” he said. +“Logically you know I’m right. Sentimentally, of course, I’m very much +off the line. A wife who comes to her husband in the recognized +English way, for the great and simple reason of love, is immeasurably +above one obtained in either of the two recognized African +methods--buying and stealing.” + +“Stealing!” + +Leslie’s voice was full of horror. + +“It’s not much done in these more civilized parts,” he explained. “But +up-country it frequently happens.” + +The kettle boiling turned Lebrassa’s thoughts to tea-making. + +When the meal was over, one or two inquisitive little black faces +peering with fearsome interest in at the doorway took Leslie’s +attention. + +“Do you mind if I give them these cakes and biscuits now we’ve +finished?” she asked. + +“Of course you may,” he answered quickly. “Why trouble to ask?” + +With all the remnants on a tray Leslie left the hut, distributing the +scraps among the children collected outside. + +“There wasn’t one there as nice as my brown baby,” she remarked on +returning. + +“Which do you call your brown baby?” he asked. + +“The one I found in the garden last night.” + +“Oh, that,” Lebrassa said in a forced, offhand manner. + +“None of the women here were anything like as good-looking as its +mother,” the girl continued. “What beautiful ivory armlets she wore, +did you notice them?” + +“I don’t know that I did, specially,” he replied, with the same air of +simulated indifference. + +“They had stars carved on them,” Leslie persisted, continuing a +subject that obviously interested her. “I once had an armlet like +hers, but mine was made of gold. And inside was an Arabic inscription. +A friend translated it to me and he said it meant, ‘Irena, Queen of +Kallu, Daughter of the Stars, Bride of the Night, Beloved of +Darkness.’ I often wonder who she was and where my father got it from. +I never even knew he had it until after he was… lost.” + +As Leslie talked, a strained look came and deepened on Lebrassa’s dark +face. When she finished he made no remark. Instead, he sat in gloomy +silence. + +A faint sigh roused him. It came, not from his companion, but from the +forest outside. A low, moaning rush followed. This made him start up +quickly and go to the door. There was a sudden mad shriek, as if all +the winds of the world were loosed. Leslie came to his side. + +“What’s the matter?” she asked, with alarm. + +There was no need to answer the question. The horizon was a mass of +blood-red and indigo--the lurid tints of an approaching tornado. + +Before he could answer her question the first great, blinding streak +of lightning shot across the sky. + +“We shall have to wait here until this storm passes off,” he remarked +casually. + +Leslie sat down again, listening to the storm that came ever closer, +until the murky, thunder-ridden clouds cast the gloom of twilight over +the scene. + +Presently a flash of lightning and a deafening peal directly overhead +made her glance at Lebrassa who was leaning carelessly against the +lintel watching the storm, and apparently in no way disturbed by its +violence. + +“You don’t seem to mind,” she said. + +“I’ve seen many of the sort. The other day you were asking for +something typically African. Now you’ve got it--a typically African +tornado.” + +Then seeing the girl was nervous, he came and seated himself in the +chair next hers. + +“There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” he said in a soothing tone. +“The lightning goes for the high trees, and not these little huts.” + +The next few minutes there was one constant flash and roar that filled +the atmosphere with the smell of sulphur and scorched wood, and left +Leslie sitting wide-eyed and trembling, obviously gripping her courage +with both hands. + +“Leslie has Sylvia very well under control,” he remarked presently, a +tender, caressing note in his voice. + +The comment made her smile at him in a tremulous manner. + +“You seem to remember every silly thing I say. And I have the feeling +that you’re always vastly amused at my expense.” + +Lebrassa said nothing, but his mouth softened until all its cruel +lines vanished. He sat as if lost in his own thoughts, watching the +rain coming down with a violence that blotted out the adjacent forest +in a driving cloud of gray. + +“I’m afraid we shall have to stay here for some hours,” he remarked +presently. “There’s no chance of this clearing up just yet.” + +“Hours!” Leslie echoed, and her voice was full of dismay. + +“As soon as the rain lessens, I’ll send one of the villagers down to +the river for your hammock. You can’t possibly walk back with the +ground in the state it will be in after this downpour.” + +“I’m putting you to a great deal of trouble,” she said apologetically. + +He smiled, in the quiet, well-bred way Leslie liked. + +“You’re my only friend,” he replied. “The first I’ve ever had. If Fate +had been kind enough to provide me with an English mother I should +have had a circle almost bigger than I could manage. Where my one +friend is concerned, nothing is too much trouble. I’m only too pleased +to do any little thing for you.” + +For the next hour the rain poured down continuously, bringing darkness +earlier than usual and making even more gloomy the short African +twilight. + +Inside the hut the shadows quickly gathered. Leslie sat watching the +torrent and listening to Lebrassa’s cultured voice as he talked of a +hundred and one things calculated to take her mind away from the +present predicament. + +The darkness thickened until only two white blurs showed up in the +hut. + +Presently Lebrassa rose. + +“I’ll get a light,” he volunteered. + +“Wait till the rain stops a bit. You’ll be wet through before you’ve +gone a dozen yards,” she said quickly. + +“If I wait for the rain to stop we shall have to sit in darkness until +midnight.” + +“You mean we shall have to stay here until then?” + +“There’s not much chance of getting away before,” he said. + +With that he left the hut. + +Brooding on his verdict, Leslie stayed alone in the darkness, +listening to the hiss of the rain, the moan of the wind through the +forest, the strange creaks and sighs and distant howls that came with +it, the rustle of lizards in the roof, and the scratching, tapping +sounds as the long leaves of a plantain scraped against the side of +the tiny dwelling. + +The mingled sounds made an eerie whole. There was such an unaccustomed +feeling about everything, such a creepy sensation, too, at the idea of +being in this savage village miles away from the nearest white person. + +The combination sapped Leslie’s nerve. + +A big, indistinct blot suddenly looming up in the doorway made her +heart jump in a sickly fashion. + +“Is that you, Mr. Lebrassa?” she asked, a touch of fear in her voice. + +“Now who else would it be?” + +“You… you were gone so long. I--was beginning to get quite alarmed.” + +“There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” he said in a soothing manner. + +“But you _were_ a long time. And… and all this _is_ a bit new to me.” + +“Poor little Sylvia! If I’d thought of her, I’d have given you a hint +that I was seeing about dinner, and also searching round for some +‘typically African’ means of illumination.” + +Now that he was with her, Leslie’s fears subsided. + +“And I expect you got wet through in doing it.” + +The expression of her voice was essentially feminine, chiding and +concerned at the same time. + +“I believe I did,” he said indifferently. + +As he leaned over the table to arrange the lighting apparatus, +Leslie’s hand touched his sleeve, with one of those little downward +strokes by which one investigates as to the dampness of a person. + +“Why, you’re absolutely soaked!” she cried, her voice full of +distress. + +“It won’t harm me,” he answered, in a tone that said her concern on +his account pleased him. “I’m used to it. I could be out all night in +this rain, sleeping on the ground in it, and feel no ill effects. +Another advantage attached to being ‘a nigger’.” + +“No one who really knew you would ever call you one,” she assured him. + +“So you don’t think of me as one, now you’ve got to know me?” + +Leslie thought of some of the specimens she had met at Cooper’s +bungalow. + +“Never,” she said emphatically. + +On the table, as lamps, Lebrassa was arranging two half-cocoanut +shells filled with palm oil with a scrap of rag floating in each as a +wick. After several attempts, he made them burn--dancing, uncertain +lights, each with a thick column of pungent smoke. + +“How’s that?” he asked. + +“It looks very local.” + +Seating himself, he went on talking until the dinner arrived. A trio +of native women appeared with a variety of calabashes. There were +small ones to do duty as plates, and polished half-cocoanuts for +glasses. + +In one huge calabash a savory stew steamed. In another were pancakes +made from pounded plantains fried in palm oil which gave them a +curious red tinge. A third was piled high with nuts and fruit. And in +a bottle that had once held trade gin was native palm wine. + +“Shall we gather round?” he asked as the women left. + +“How strange and nice it all looks,” Leslie remarked, as she seated +herself at the table. + +Over the flickering, smoking lamps a powerful brown face looked at a +delicate white one. + +“Now, Miss Graham, what about some chicken stew? I guarantee it’s fit +for civilized consumption because I saw the ingredients put in, and +dared the cook, under pain of death, to add any trifles of her own +choice.” + +As the meal proceeded, in a veiled way Lebrassa’s negro-tainted eyes +watched the girl who chatted to him in a frank, friendly manner, often +smiling at him in the way she had done when her photograph first met +his gaze. + +By the time dessert was reached, Leslie was thoroughly enjoying her +“typically African” evening. + +“We might be miles and miles away from civilization,” she said in the +course of conversation. “Right in the heart of savage Africa. But I’m +glad we’re not.” + +“What’s your objection to the heart of savage Africa?” + +“I should live in constant fear of the Hyena swooping down on me, and +grilling me over a fire, or leaving me abandoned on an ant-hill.” + +Her reply was the last Lebrassa had expected. An uneasy look crossed +his face. + +“What made you think about that man just now?” he asked hoarsely. + +“All these strange, barbaric surroundings, this +far-away-from-all-civilization feeling. Captain Fletcher says he +tortures people for days on end. I can’t imagine any one human being +acting in that manner toward another, can you?” + +The strained look on Lebrassa’s face deepened. + +“Everybody out here has some theory about him,” he answered. “Mine is, +that he’s some unfortunate wretch suffering from a loathsome disease +that is a constant torture to him, which he knows neither time, +patience, repentance, nor any earthly remedy can cure, and only death +relieve. In the agonies of others he may find some little relief from +his own--forgetfulness of his own spectre.” + +“Captain Fletcher says he does it from sheer hatred of white people,” +Leslie put in. + +“Perhaps. But we’ve only to refer to history to find that some of the +greatest barbarians of the past, men whose names are bywords of +cruelty to this day, have been afflicted themselves. Any horrible +affliction, combined with inherited savage instincts and the cruelty +that lurks in all things negro, would produce something on a par with +the devil. Sympathy is always with the Hyena’s victims. Personally I +find myself extending a little to the man himself, if the cause is +what I say.” + +For some time there was silence. + +In a sympathetic manner Leslie watched Lebrassa, knowing his thoughts +were on his own affliction--the black blood in him. + +“Why don’t you smoke?” she asked presently, with the idea of getting +his mind away from himself. + +Her voice brought him out from his black study. + +“May I?” + +“Of course. Why didn’t you light up sooner?” + +“I thought tobacco, combined with the smell of these lamps, might be +rather too much for you,” he explained. + +“I like it. It keeps off the mosquitoes,” she replied, glad she had +got his thoughts away from his constant trouble. + +He drew out a wet-looking cigar-case. A search for matches followed. +But he could find none, the last having been used to get the lamps +burning. + +“I’m afraid you’ll have to endure the mosquitoes,” he said. + +Leslie pointed to the soaked rag that lay, half submerged in the +oil-filled shell, flickering and smoldering under the heavy pall of +thick, greasy smoke. + +“What’s wrong with getting a light from there?” she asked. + +“There’d be too much palm-oil flavor attached to my cigar if I did!” + +“I never knew anything quite so helpless as a man if a thing can’t be +done in the regulation way. Why not make a paper spill?” + +As he searched round in his pockets for material for making one, +Lebrassa’s eyes, soft and smiling, rested on the girl. + +“I shall call you ‘Little Friend of all the Universe,’ Miss Graham,” +he remarked. “You seem able to ease every one’s troubles, and find a +way out of his difficulties for him.” + +He drew out his pocket-book, and opened it carelessly to tear out a +dry leaf from the middle. + +As he did so, something fluttered to the table and lay there, face +upwards, staring at Leslie. + +In blank astonishment she stared back at it. + +Her intent gaze drew Lebrassa’s attention to the spot. + +On the table a little pictured face lay; a face he had come to know +very well since he had torn it out from the group, wondering who the +girl was and if she would smile at him in such a friendly manner if +she knew she was smiling at a “nigger.” + +Starting violently, he looked across at the original. + +The pleasure of having Leslie so entirely to himself, miles away from +all her own color, trusting him as implicitly as if he were one of her +own people, to know she was concerned about his welfare and his wants, +that she understood and sympathized with him, had made him forget what +secret lay hidden within his notebook. + +He made a movement to pick the photograph up, but her hand was there +first. + +“Why! It’s like the one I sent to Molly!” she exclaimed. “In that +letter! You know. The one that was lost.” + +As if unable to credit her eyes, she turned it over. + +On the back her own handwriting greeted her. + +“It _is_ the very one!” she went on in a disbelieving gasp. + +In a dazed, puzzled manner, she looked across at him. + +“How did you get hold of it?” she asked. + +Lebrassa’s eyes were strained and anxious, but her blank surprise had +given him time to gather an explanation together. + +“I found it among some of Cooper’s possessions, that he asked me to +forward after he left Harrogate.” + +“But it’s out of the letter I sent to Molly! The one she never had. My +letter must have got there. And he… he must have taken it!” + +Lebrassa made no reply. + +Intently he watched the girl, wondering if his excuse would stand, by +now sufficiently acquainted with her character to know she would not +question the negro on a matter nothing could rectify, or tell Molly +that the man who was her husband had attained the position by stealing +a letter. + +All at once Leslie looked across at him. + +“Mr. Lebrassa, will you do me a favor? Don’t say anything to Mr. +Cooper about this. It’s too late to mend matters now. And I don’t want +Molly to know either. If she did, it would sweep away the shred of +tolerance that makes her life with her husband possible. Do help me to +keep this secret,” she finished earnestly. + +“I won’t say a word if you don’t wish me to,” he said hoarsely. + +“Will you shake hands on it?” + +Across the table a small white hand was extended. He drew back as if +stung, watching her with an expression that was tortured. + +“Can’t you trust me without that?” he asked roughly. + +Leslie imagined her action had been misconstrued; that he thought his +mixed blood had made her fancy he was not to be relied on. + +“Of course I can,” she said, all penitence. “It’s only a silly +school-boy formula.” + +After that she sat back in her chair, brooding over the mystery that +had been solved at last. + +It was some time before it struck her to wonder why the picture should +have been in Lebrassa’s possession. The shock of coming across it so +unexpectedly had taken all but the fact of Cooper’s treachery from her +mind. + +Now other thoughts came trooping in, the principal being--why had Mr. +Lebrassa picked out and kept her photograph? + +On further inspection, the fact that he had done so left her with an +uncomfortable feeling; a desire to get back to other people, not to be +quite so alone with him. + +Fletcher’s final lecture on the _Batava_ was well to the fore in her +mind. What if Captain Fletcher were right, and she wrong? What if Mr. +Lebrassa were in love with her? + +She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that there had never +been anything lover-like in his behavior. He treated her in a +friendly, fatherly way, much as Major Harding did. + +But the fact that he carried her photograph about refused to be +ignored, and there came the perturbing thought that friendship might +not satisfy him. He might wish for something more. + +Like an appalling flood there swept through Leslie the recollection +that Lebrassa was only half English, only half civilized. And in +matters of emotion the savage might come to the top. + +Anxiously he watched her as she sat silent and thoughtful. Every +shadow and expression that crossed her face he noted, all the time +wondering if his excuse would pass muster, knowing there were +incidents in their first meeting that might go to disprove his +explanation. + +Suddenly Leslie got up and went to the door. As she did so he caught +one glance--fleeting, fearsome and suspicious. + +“I--don’t think it’s raining quite so much. Hadn’t we better start +back now?” + +There was unmistakable reserve in her voice, and a break of fear that +he immediately noticed. + +Crossing the hut, he took up his stand just behind her--as he very +often did--looking over her head at the driving rain. + +“We can’t possibly start in this,” he said. + +Leslie moved to the other side of the door. With her mind full of +suspicions she did not care to have him so close to her. The action +made him glance at her in a sharp, anxious, almost hungry manner, +suspecting that some idea of his deceit had dawned on her. + +She caught his look, and it did not add to her peace of mind. + +“But I’d like to go now,” she said, trying to speak naturally. + +She did her best to hide her uneasiness. She feared that her having +seen the photograph might make him tell his reason for carrying her +picture about. Being what he was, he might not take his congé in the +manner an Englishman would. + +“Molly will be wondering what has happened to me,” she added as an +excuse. + +“Mrs. Cooper will guess why you’re late. There’s no need for you to +distress yourself on her account.” + +Lebrassa’s voice was very hoarse, as if he were laboring under great +but suppressed emotion. Leslie, with ears now quick to mark every tone +in his voice, heard it. + +She shivered, so violently that it was noticeable. His hand was on her +shoulder with quick, caressing anxiety. + +“You’re not damp or cold, are you, little friend?” + +She drew away from him and went into the room, putting the length of +the table between them. There she stood watching him with frightened, +suspicious eyes. Half an hour ago she would have put his touch and +anxiety on her account down to friendship, but the finding of her +photograph in his possession now gave all his doings another meaning. + +Lebrassa followed her. + +Guilt made him quick to put but one construction on her actions. A +further survey of the situation had shown her flaws in his +explanation--flaws through which the truth was leaking. Her avoidance +and desire to escape from him made him think she had guessed he had +taken the letter. + +“Before God, Leslie, I wouldn’t have taken that letter had I known +everything,” he said hoarsely. + +Blankly she looked at him. + +“What are you talking about?” she asked with undisguised surprise. + +In an instant Lebrassa’s mistake flashed on him. He knew now why she +shrank from him. She had guessed his reason for keeping the +photograph. Now his own confession had betrayed him, had swept away +the one thing he was working for--to possess her legally. On her +trust, sympathy and liking, there had been a chance he might build +something stronger than the friendship she had granted him. A slender +chance, that his own words had swept away. + +Leslie stood wondering what he meant. + +His hoarse, broken words were very different from the proposal she had +expected and dreaded. + +“_I wouldn’t have taken that letter had I known everything._” + +Over and over again the sentence repeated itself in her mind. + +“You mean _you_ took that letter?” she asked at length. + +There was no reply. Something gripped Lebrassa’s throat and strangled +all utterance as her astounded eyes gazed at him with the truth +dawning in their clear depths. + +Over the flickering, curling lights he watched her in a strange, wild, +hungry way. + +Leslie noticed nothing of this. Other things were in her mind. Back to +her had flashed some of the incidents of their first meeting, all of +which went to corroborate the gradually dawning truth. + +She remembered how she had been sent to his room. His start and +surprise on hearing her name. How he had said he was expecting some +one. His knowledge that she had come from Paris. + +The full meaning of it all dawned on her at last. + +_He_ was responsible for Molly’s ghastly marriage. This man she had +been sorry for, whom she had called “friend,” treated as such, and +held to, in spite of advice and warning. + +Why Lebrassa should have taken the letter had no place in her mind. +Everything was forgotten in the flood of cold, unbounded rage that +swept over her at the knowledge of his treachery and how she had been +deceived. + +With unveiled aversion, she turned from him, and picking up her hat +pulled it on her head with hands that shook with the intensity of her +anger. + +There was no mistaking her action. She had done with him entirely. + +She turned to leave the hut. Before she reached the door, Lebrassa was +there, barring the way. + +There was no need for further deception. The knowledge that he was now +despicable in her sight had cracked the veneer of civilization. The +savage, whom her trust, innocence and liking could keep in abeyance, +showed through. A flood of wild emotion had swept away almost every +English trait on his face, leaving it reckless, cruel, arrogant, full +of savage love and hungry passion. + +Leslie faced him, looking at him with contempt and loathing, too +enraged to notice the wild storm her scorn had raised. + +“Let me pass at once,” she said. + +It was a haughty command, with no hint of fear or entreaty. + +“And if I refuse, little white rose, what then?” + +Unflinchingly she scanned the big figure barring her way. + +“You will recollect what you are and obey me instantly.” + +He laughed, a low, fierce laugh, with a great note of the tiger in it. + +“What am I, heart’s delight? Tell me what I am. For what if I say I +_am_ the Hyena?” + +At his words all color died from Leslie’s face. + +Wide-eyed and in dread fascination, she gazed at him. + +“A savage African Sultan with a price on his head.” “The most +bloodthirsty villain in West Africa.” + +With sickening force his words came thundering back to her mind. +Contempt and anger were lost in the flood of deadly terror that swept +over her. + +She was not dealing with a civilized being, but with a savage chief, a +blood-stained monster, a creature quite beyond her comprehension. + +She glanced round wildly, seeking refuge from the tainted eyes +watching her. As if to get away from the truth confronting her, she +made a backward step. Lebrassa followed, not touching her, just +driving her backwards step by step, laughing all the time, driving her +backwards until she could get no further. There was a wall behind her, +and this great savage thing in front watching her and laughing. + +It was impossible to scream. No sound would come. + +A sound came, but from outside. From the forest not a hundred yards +away. A snarling, ravening sound, a howl of fiendish mirth, a shriek +of mad, bestial laughter. Like a pack of hell hounds on the trail, the +sound rose and fell with the swish of the rain; now, a low, +blood-curdling chuckle, now a wild, hellish yell, a horrible cry, like +a hundred hyenas howling. The wild sounds stopped as abruptly as they +had arisen. And through the heavy roar of the downpour came the echo +of running feet. + +That ghastly howling sobered Lebrassa. + +The wild surge of red-hot negro passion the sudden chattering of his +hopes had roused died down as quickly as it had arisen. Another flood +of emotion swayed him. How to save the girl now looking at him as if +he were earth’s greatest horror. There was the low moan of a child in +deadly fear as his arm went round her, crouched against the wall, +staring at him with eyes black with terror. + +Leslie was aware he lifted her lightly, holding her in a grip that +took all her strength away. Then everything faded in total blackness +as she lay, limp, in a dead faint within his arms. + +The running feet reached the hut. Yoni loomed up and threw herself on +her knees before Lebrassa, as he stood holding Leslie close against +him in fierce protection. + +“What treachery is this, woman?” he demanded in a savage, desperate +voice. + +“It’s Nanza,” she gasped. “He did not go back to Kallu. He waited here +to spy. Then he sent a message up to the high-priest, Mhaki, who has +come down with fifty of his followers demanding blood and vengeance. +Nanza has seen you with the Star, and he knows you love her. He has +told them, and they are filled with madness. They come now for the +blood of the Star and the death of a Sultan who has betrayed them. +Essel, my cousin, give them vengeance. What does it matter if that +girl dies? But not my lord who is the Sultan and my life.” + +As the gasping, breathless voice finished, another burst of fiendish +laughter roused the echoes, the mad hyena’s cry that had preceded +Yoni’s coming. A crowd of howling black figures dashed into the hut, +wet and dripping, with the steam rising from their ebony hides; with +scarred faces and thick, livid lips that snarled and showed great +yellow fangs filed down to resemble dogs’ teeth. + +“Back, dogs!” Lebrassa roared in some heathen dialect. “Since when has +it been law to enter thus the presence of your Sultan?” + +As his furious voice thundered out, to be heard above the mad babel, +the wild roar died down to an ominous growl. The half-dozen savages +already in the hut, stopped short, but they were pressed on by the +force of those behind them. + +“By all darkness! Who comes one step nearer dies,” Lebrassa thundered. + +The mob stopped. Under the mulatto’s blazing eyes there was some +inclination on the part of the most prominent of the intruders to draw +back and give precedence to their fellows. + +It was one thing to talk against the Sultan behind his back, another +to meet him face to face. There was the sullen, backward cringe of +wild beasts under the eye of their trainer, and the growl subsided +into silence. + +“Don’t heed him,” a voice from behind cried. “He would keep blood from +us.” + +“So, Nanza, you are here,” Lebrassa answered. “Come! Your Sultan bids +you enter.” + +Nanza came through the crowd and halted, facing Lebrassa with an +arrogance equaling his own. + +“Now, what’s all this talk about withholding blood? Since when in +Kallu has your voice issued orders except of my giving?” the mulatto +asked. “Remember, even the Sultan’s cousin, heir to all Darkness +though he be, is not exempt from death if he dare disobey me.” + +“Nor is the Sultan exempt from death, if he betrays the priests and +the people,” Nanza replied boldly. + +A growl of assent went up. + +“In what way have I betrayed either priests or people?” Lebrassa +demanded. + +“Need you ask, with that girl in your arms?” Nanza replied, pointing a +black finger at Leslie’s unconscious form. “Have you forgotten your +oath sworn on the Altar of the Night?” + +Lebrassa gave a savage laugh, arrogant and contemptuous. + +“What I hold in my arms is mine. No oath broken, but what has long +been the wish of the priests and the people.” + +“It is no wish of theirs that you hold that foul murderer’s daughter +in a lover’s embrace. Give her to us. Give us blood and vengeance. +Give us the woman you hold,” his cousin cried. + +With a sullen, angry roar the horde surged up to Lebrassa as if to +tear Leslie from his protecting arms. Only one man touched her, and +the next moment he fell under a blow that would have stunned an ox. + +“That I should live to see this crew of mongrels yapping round me!” +Lebrassa roared with mad fury. “Hounded on by the lash of jealousy. By +one who desires to sit in your Sultan’s place.” + +These were words that could reach through the blood-lust that swayed +the crowd: motives they could understand. Vengeance was one, treachery +another, now a third had been presented to them. Some of their fury +died down, and left them waiting for explanations. + +Lebrassa was quick to seize his opportunity. + +“But do I hold the child of that murderer?” he asked. “Who has said +so? Only Nanza. And why?” + +Now the mob was all attention, hanging on to his words, awaiting his +excuses. + +“Why do you listen to the voice of jealousy?” Lebrassa continued. “It +was said in Kallu, ‘The Sultan tarries. Why is he so long away from +his people?’ A message was sent up, ‘Wait’, but it did not say for +what. There is one who sits in the Sultan’s place when his dogs rest +after hunting--one who fain would sit there always. He must plot +mischief, he and a jealous woman. A message was sent up to you, ‘The +child of the murderer is found.’ Who sent it? Not I. Yet it was a true +one. And another had been found also.” + +Lebrassa paused for a moment, and his arms took an even firmer hold of +the girl who lay limp within them. + +“Long has it been asked in Kallu, ‘Why have we no Queen?’ ‘Why does +not the Sultan give us an heir of his own breeding?’ Why? Because no +Star had risen in the Heart of Darkness. In Kallu there was no woman +as beautiful as Irena, Bride of the Night. None fit to take her place, +to be wife to her son. Your Sultan was ambitious. He would give even +greater beauty than Irena’s to shine on the Throne of Night, to be a +mother of kings. There was a hunt, a hunt of vengeance; a fresh rumor +had come as to the whereabouts of the child of Irena’s murderer. On +the trail of blood your Sultan found a love scent. A Star rose in the +Heart of Darkness. It was a dual hunt that kept your Sultan from +Kallu--love and vengeance. And in the end, both were successful.” + +Lebrassa stopped for a moment, his gaze on the small head pillowed +against his chest. + +With staring eyes and interest on their fierce faces, the wild crowd +waited for him to continue. + +“Vengeance proved more easily wooed than love. The first was soon +completed, the other far from finished. What is the best guard for a +woman who needs safe keeping, whose life is forfeit for her father’s +sins? A husband who loves her and is jealous of her beauty. A husband +was found for the daughter of that foul murderer. At my order my +servant Cooper married her. But he does not know who she really is, +the woman who is now his wife. I had to find a keeper for her, for the +love hunt was far from finished.” + +Smiling fondly Lebrassa laid a big, brown hand on Leslie’s head. + +“Is it the way of a Sultan to turn back from love not attained?” he +asked proudly. “It was but a small Star I sought, yet it would have +none of me. I laughed and waited. It was a sweet game over which men +love to linger, when the end is sure. A small Star against the Ruler +of the Night! I spread a net for it, into which the little feet of +innocence strayed. My Star would have fled, but too late. I had caught +it. Nanza can tell you more of my snare, but in it he would have I was +trapping vengeance, not love. Shall we say--for reasons of his own?” + +As if to let his question sink in, Lebrassa paused again. + +“For has it not been whispered that he would remain my heir now and +forever? Say, dogs, had you slain me by the words jealousy had +whispered, who would be your Sultan now? Nanza has no wish for me to +marry. For my son would be the heir, and not himself. It is well then +if I am slain. Who is to be believed? The one who desires to sit in +the Sultan’s place, or he who has led you to victory these twenty +years? He or I? Love is here in my arms. The object of our vengeance +is in charge of her guard, Cooper, whom you know better as Bhessu, my +servant.” + +There was no mistaking who had the heart of the crowd now. Lebrassa +knew his audience and played on it, swaying it with the gift of negro +eloquence, combined with English reason. + +A wild howl went up, very different from the first that had greeted +him. Half a score of hands seized Nanza as he stood trying to make +himself heard, bore him backwards and would have had his life. Over +the babel Lebrassa’s voice came thundering. + +“Back, dogs, let him have his say. Do not let my words, like his, sway +you unduly. Maybe there is something lacking in my explanation. I +would answer all the charges he has to bring against me.” + +The dusky horde surged back immediately. + +“What he has said is no proof,” Nanza yelled. “When only the Sultan +knows the truth, it is easy for him to say one woman is the other.” + +Fifty voices answered him. + +“Proof! What need have we of proof? The Sultan’s word is enough.” + +Then a man who had not yet spoken put in a word. He was a negro of +about sixty who appeared to weigh judicially all that had been said. +Lebrassa’s desire that Nanza should have his say had had a more +favorable effect on the high-priest, Mhaki, than anything that had yet +passed. + +“Nanza has spoken truly,” he said quietly. “What the Sultan has said +is no proof. It is easy to pass off one woman as the other. With love +deceit enters into the heart of man. I’m not of the rabble to be +swayed by words and references to fights that have gone before. I am a +priest of Doomana, a faithful servant of the Night-God, of the +murdered Queen Irena, of the Sultan Essel too, if he give but one +proof to his statements.” + +“Then, Mhaki, no one can give better proof than you. For no one here +but you saw my mother’s murderer in his prime. Now, what was he like, +that man you saw nearly twenty-three years ago?” + +As Lebrassa put the question he was busy drawing the pins from the +coils of hair about Leslie’s ears. + +“He resembled Irena’s consort,” Mhaki replied. “So much so that he +might have been his brother. He was a tall man, with hair of gold, and +eyes gray as a night cloud.” + +“He was as you say, Mhaki, a man who might have been my father’s +brother,” Lebrassa said, a bitter note in his voice. “Now, who has +seen Cooper’s wife? Come, Nanza, you’ve played the spy. Speak up, and +tell us what she is like?” + +There was no reply. + +Lebrassa laughed. + +“Is there any one here who has seen her?” he asked. + +Yoni rose up from Lebrassa’s feet. + +“I give testimony to my lord. I, Yoni, Keeper of the Stars, priestess +of Doomana, who caused all this, and put jealousy into my brother. I +have seen her. She has hair of gold, and eyes that are as the +twilight.” + +“There’s the proof you desire, Mhaki,” Lebrassa cried. “Now, see +this!” + +With a quick movement, he tore off Leslie’s screening hat. A shake +brought her cloud of black hair sweeping over his sleeve. Then he held +the girl at arms’ length, where she lay gazing around with big, dazed, +purple-blue eyes. + +There was a moment of astonished silence. + +“She is, indeed, a Star,” Mhaki said in an awed voice. “Never have I +seen a girl so beautiful.” + +He made as if to finger Leslie’s silky hair, but Lebrassa drew her +quickly back to his heart, pressing her against him with fierce +tenderness and savage jealousy, away from the black paws that would +have touched her. + +“A Star for me alone, and not for you and your color to touch, Mhaki,” +he answered. “If love were not in my heart, your lives would pay for +this night’s work. Now, I will crown her, Queen of Kallu, a gift from +the Sultan to his people.” + +The project met with a roar of assent. Lebrassa stood in the midst of +a crowd that fawned round him in the manner of dogs welcoming a +long-absent master. + +The excitement of victory, coming after the tearing strain of the last +few minutes, when only he stood between Leslie and fifty fiends +thirsting for blood and vengeance, made Lebrassa, for the moment, +forgetful of everything except that she was safe. + +As he stood surrounded by the fawning crowd Nanza slipped out of the +hut. For he knew that death would be his portion once the Sultan +remembered his treachery. + +The savages were too busy to notice Nanza’s stealthy exit. All eyes +were on the two in the middle of the hut, eager to miss no detail of +the impromptu crowning of their Queen. + +One of the mulatto’s arms was bared to beyond the elbow. On his +massive brown limb was a circle of gold, embossed with stars. This +Mhaki was unclasping. When the armlet was off he gave it into +Lebrassa’s keeping. The latter took it and placed it on Leslie’s head, +drawing strands of her hair through it to keep it in position. And +there it gleamed--a band of golden stars set in a cloud of black. + +The curling, smoking lights played on the wild figures who watched him +as he stood holding a white-faced girl close against him, gazing with +savage arrogance over her star-crowned head. + +“Is there no greeting for my Queen?” + +Fifty voices answered him. + +“We are star-worshipers, we spawn of the night. In Kallu there is +always welcome for such as she.” + +There followed the wild, tribal war-cry--a long-drawn howl of hyena +laughter, so weird and blood-curdling that it reached Leslie through +her stunned terror. + +Involuntarily, she clutched Lebrassa’s wrist. + +“Enough, you are frightening her,” he cried. “She’s not used to the +music of my hunting dogs, this little Queen of mine.” + +Then all at once, Nanza’s absence dawned on him. + +“By all darkness! That traitor has slipped away!” he thundered. + +It needed but a minute to convince everybody of the truth of this +statement, and growls of anger arose from the savages. + +“He will do no harm as yet,” Lebrassa said in a quick, compelling +voice. “Saving his own life concerns him more now than betraying us. +But we must act quickly.” + +A few sharp orders were issued. + +The hut cleared. + +Presently there remained only Yoni and the two who, not an hour +before, were seated amicably together at dinner. + +The negress was ordered out and told to wait within earshot until +called. When she left, Lebrassa drew up a chair and put Leslie into +it. For the girl drooped against him, so weak and limp that he knew +she would have fallen but for his arm. + +Once she was seated he stood watching her, as if hoping for some word. +There was a tired, strained look about him; a lot had been lost and +gained within the last hour. + +Presently, as the silence remained unbroken, he leaned over her and +took one of her cold, trembling hands into his. + +“Say something to me, little white rose?” he asked with pleading. “Say +I’ve deceived you. That you hate me. Anything. Don’t sit in silence as +if no words could express your contempt and my baseness. I deceived +you. But is it quite unforgivable? A small, white hand reached down to +me, through the blackness and the blood, to the depths of a hell I’ve +been in these last twenty years. If I try to keep it, am I wrong?” + +Watching her anxiously he paused, but if he expected an answer he was +disappointed. + +“I’m hungry after white innocence and purity, nobility and gentleness, +things that have been denied me. I would have them for my own, to hold +them close against me. You are my treasure, my precious angel, as far +above me as the stars. I would have won you honorably if I could, +Leslie, but fate was against me. You know me now for what I am--a +creature black and blood-stained, who has been the sport of the gods +since birth. A constant black horror was born with me, one that can +drag me down to the level of the beasts, with which I must move, eat +and sleep to the end--a horror that I see reflected on every white +face, that neither time, patience, money nor penitence can take from +me. That horror has risen in all its ghastly blackness between me and +every hope, ideal and ambition I may have cherished, and it has +hounded me to hell in search of oblivion. And I found oblivion--at +last. At last I found the Waters of Lethe. Where do you think, +Leslie?” + +For a moment he paused as if hoping for some word from her. But only +the sigh and the sob of the rain answered him. + +“I found oblivion. Not in the depths I’d groveled in so long. But high +above me, in the stars. For you, Leslie, smiled on me and were my +friend, treating me just as if I were as other men. You forgot what I +was. And I forgot also, because you did. Forgot, and when you had +gone, remembered a thousand times more. Yet I would hide the blood and +blackness from you. Would deceive you. I was thirsty for whiteness +after my life in hell.” + +He raised her cold, shaking hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. + +“It is such a little hand, this of yours,” he said, holding it +carefully in his big brown one. “Yet it eased the yoke that held me. +It brought me back to what I might have been. This little hand, +trembling in my own. May I keep it, Leslie?” + +There was no reply. Only her hand trembled more than ever. + +“Have you nothing to say to me, little friend?” he asked with abject +pleading. “Not one word. I dare not ask for love, but just a little +toleration and pity, a little of the old sweet sympathy. I could give +so much in return--love, worship and adoration. Don’t make an even +greater savage of me, Leslie. Be something more than a Sultan’s +captive bride. Be my little angel of pity.” + +For some moments he watched her hungrily. + +A white-faced girl looked back at him, speechless and in dread +fascination. + +“Haven’t you one word for me, darling?” he begged. + +Still there was no reply. + +For a moment longer he waited. Then he went from the hut, leaving Yoni +on guard at the door. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + “_My soul seem’d numbed by the blow,_ + _A faintness followed, a sickly swoon._” + +When Leslie returned to consciousness she seemed to be in quite a +different world--a world of darkness, damp and chill, full of wild +howls and animal snarlings, and over it all a savage voice was +thundering. + +Fearsomely she glanced round, the terrors of a ghastly nightmare upon +her, not yet awake to the events of the evening. Above her head a +voice was speaking, full of triumph, arrogance, and barbaric pride. + +It roused her to a further review of her surroundings. + +She became aware of a big brown hand holding hers, pressed close in +fierce possession. In a dazed way, she studied it. No reassuring ring +of white flesh appeared beneath the wet, blistered cuff. This caught +her attention. Many men had brown hands, quite as dark as this one. +Captain Fletcher had, in fact. Yet on his arm the brown stopped all at +once, just beyond the cuff, and the white began. But on this arm the +brown did not stop. It went on and on, until it was lost in the depths +of the sleeve. + +Leslie’s eyes went to the swarthy, powerful face above her head, and +stayed there in a puzzled fashion. + +It was like a once well-known scene that had been devastated by some +wild flood, vaguely haunting in outline, yet changed almost beyond +recognition: all the old familiar landmarks had been swept away and +unknown signs had taken their places. + +A sickly shudder ran through her. Through the numbness that had +followed her brief swoon, came a sudden dawning of the terror which +had been with her before a merciful unconsciousness had seized +her--when the knowledge of who and what Lebrassa really was had +thundered down on her. + +She stayed frozen with the horror of recollection, gazing at the wild +figures around her, hoping they would not go and leave her quite alone +with him. + +Her strained eyes watched them as they slipped away one by one, to be +swallowed up in the night. + +When Lebrassa put her into the chair, Leslie was limp with terror. As +from a long way off she heard his voice talking in a manner that +filled her with even greater fear. + +Then presently, mercifully, he was gone too. + +When he left the hut she got up. With uncertain steps she crossed to +the door, looking up at Yoni in a wild way. + +“Let me pass. I want to go at once,” she said. + +Yoni looked back at her, but she made no sign of moving from the +narrow doorway. + +Leslie tried to push past her, but it was no use. + +For the first time the full sense of her captivity dawned on her, and +with it some of the cunning which is the heritage of all trapped +weakness. + +Going back to the chair, she sat there trying to think of some means +of getting her jailor away before Lebrassa returned. + +Presently she got up, and taking one of the lamps went into the inner +room. + +She returned, sponge in one hand and empty water jug in the other. By +pantomime she pointed out to her jailor that she wanted to wash but +there was no water. + +Yoni shook her head and refused to move. Leslie smiled at her--a smile +that got no further than her lips--and pointed to a stream of water +pouring off the roof not more than a couple of yards away, which Yoni +could reach by just moving from the door. + +As the negress took the jug and leaned across to hold it under the +stream, Leslie darted past her. + +Yoni dropped the jug and made a grab at her, seizing whatever she +could grasp. A brief struggle ensued. Then a wave of fear went over +the negress, for the girl suddenly collapsed in her grip. + +Lifting her charge, she carried her back into the room, and laid her +in the chair. Then she stood watching Leslie’s white, unconscious +face, chafing her cold hands, in an access of mortal fear as to what +her fate would be if the Sultan returned and found this cherished +being injured. + +The chafing had no effect. Yoni tried forcing palm wine between the +girl’s slightly parted lips. But she could bring no flicker of life +back to the heavy, black-fringed lids, no glimmer of returning +consciousness to the small white face pillowed on the cushions. + +The case was beyond her. She must send and let the Sultan know. +Perhaps his voice and arms would coax this strange Star back to life. + +For a moment Yoni hesitated, then she went quickly from the hut. + +She was not gone two minutes, yet, when she returned, the hut was +empty! + +The discovery left her petrified. To her came the knowledge of what +her fate would be when the Sultan returned and found out what had +happened. The thought made her run from the hut towards the sheltering +forest. + +Then there were two women lost in the night, flying through rain and +storm, away from the fate that would be theirs if they fell again into +the hands of the Hyena. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + “_The wide gulf that parts us may yet be no wider._” + +Molly stood by the drawing-room door of her bungalow, gazing across +the veranda into the pitch-dark night, listening to the heavy thunder +of the rain. + +Presently her anxious eyes came back from the shrouded garden to the +man sitting by the lounge she had just vacated. + +“I do hope Leslie will be all right,” she said. + +Getting up, Cooper came to her side, gazing at her with a curious +mingling of dumb pleading and conscious possession. + +“She will be all right, my dove. Lebrassa will see to that.” + +“But I wish she was back. It’s after eleven.” + +So saying, Molly turned away from him, and went to a table at the far +end of the room. There she stood, turning over the many magazines +listlessly. + +Presently she picked out one and went back to the lounge. As she +seated herself she tried not to see the blackness of the hands that +arranged the cushions for her with clumsy tenderness. Then she stayed, +not reading, but watching the man beside her. + +All at once there came a sound like the rush of many naked feet along +the balcony. + +As Cooper started up, a crowd of wild figures loomed in the open +doorway, wet and steaming, with the rain dripping from their wool, +their scarred, naked bodies gleaming and writhing. + +They burst into the room, trampling with great, muddy feet on the +dainty carpet, knocking over half a dozen chairs by the impetuosity of +their entrance. + +In a rush of fear, Molly clutched her husband’s arm. One of his hands +went to his hip pocket and stayed there. + +The intruders stopped short, awed, not by the negro’s action, but by +the strangeness of their surroundings. To savages, accustomed only to +the crude appointments of a mud hut, that drawing-room with its +rose-painted piano, its gilded, satin-covered furniture, soft silken +draperies, flowers and cushions, was a revelation. + +“Who are they? What do they want?” Molly gasped. + +Cooper pushed her back on the lounge, standing between her and the +savages. + +From the wild rabble Mhaki came forward. + +“What are you doing here?” Cooper demanded in anger and astonishment, +thinking the high-priest had come, as he did occasionally, but +unattended, to see Lebrassa. + +“What are we doing here?” + +A mocking chorus answered him in the dialect he had used. + +“We have come for the woman who is your wife,” the chanters continued. +“She is to be wedded to another whose name is Death. Full long has +Kallu called for vengeance. And we are thirsty after long years of +waiting.” + +The answer infuriated Cooper. + +“Get out of this, you mad, gin-drinking fools,” he bellowed. “It’s +just as well for you I’m here and not the Sultan, or your lives would +be the price of this piece of drunken folly.” + +A roar of brutal laughter greeted him. + +Its unbridled ferocity made Molly clutch his arm again. Her face was +pressed against his side. In fear his blackness was forgotten; she +remembered only the fact that he was her husband and her natural +protector. + +“Why, Bhessu, the Sultan sent us,” came with jeering laughter. + +“The Sultan sent you!” Cooper repeated. “What madness are you +talking?” + +Over the jeers and laughter Mhaki’s voice came. + +“There’s no need to mock at him. Our Sultan said he did not know. And +he has been a good keeper. Come, Bhessu, let us have that woman, your +wife, the daughter of He-who-slew-Irena. The Sultan has sent us for +her.” + +“It is false,” Cooper roared. “The woman you want is with him.” + +“Hark to him! Another traitor,” the mob yelled. + +By now Cooper’s anger had died down. In its place had come a strained, +thoughtful look. + +“I am no traitor,” he said quietly, “but a faithful servant of the +Sultan. What fool’s talk is this, Mhaki, about my wife being the +daughter of He-who-slew-Irena? What did the Sultan say?” + +Very briefly the high-priest gave the gist of Lebrassa’s statements. + +“Come now,” he finished. “Let us have the woman. The Sultan desires +both of you, and there is no time to waste.” + +Calm and ominous, Cooper’s answer came. + +“There is still time to talk. It is false, all this the Sultan has +said. I swear by all Kallu holds sacred. He has lied to you through +love of the woman he held, and has put the burden of vengeance on +another. Ask Yoni, to whom in my faithfulness I would not listen. Ask +her, and she will tell you.” + +“He speaks against the Sultan. His life for it,” the crowd howled. + +Cooper’s hand came from his pocket to rest on the golden head pressed +against his side. He stayed, waiting for the mob to rush. + +Over the wild yells Mhaki’s voice came, calling for silence. + +“Love has made you crazy, Bhessu,” he said. “Yoni gave evidence in +favor of all the Sultan said. And I can see for myself this woman is +the one. For she has the hair and the eyes of her accursed father.” + +In a strained, dogged voice, Cooper answered. + +“Let me have my say. Then if you still think this woman is the one, +you may take her. Hair and eyes, what proof are they? May not a child +favor one parent and not the other? Perhaps the mother of your +Sultan’s bride had hair like the night and eyes of the deepest blue, +and it is the mother and not the father she favors. What Nanza told +you is true. And I can prove it. How many years is it since the Queen +Irena was found murdered on the Altar of Night? Twenty-three. And it +was proved that he who did the deed was not then married. If your +Sultan speaks the truth concerning these two women, how is it that my +wife is nearly twenty-eight?” + +Scoffing laughter greeted this statement. + +At twenty-eight a negro woman is old. To Mhaki and his following the +girl Cooper was defending looked still in her teens. + +With wild mockery and jeers the crowd surged up to him, to tear +Molly’s hands from their clinging, terrified hold. + +There was a gasping scream as her face was hidden against her +husband’s coat to shut out the swarm of naked, mud-splashed, bestial +figures. + +His hand that had lain loosely closed on her soft hair, moved +slightly. A glint of steel showed pressed on to gleaming gold. And +with it came a revolver shot. + +“The Sultan lies,” Cooper bellowed. “I will not give my wife to such +as you.” + +Molly sank back on the silken cushions, an ominous little red patch +oozing through the strands of her shining hair. + +Over the baulked howls of the savages came the sound of five more +revolver shots fired in quick succession. Then all was silent except +for a horrible, soft, hacking sound. + +On the lounge Molly lay quiet and peaceful, her brocade shoes in the +blood of the mangled heap at her feet, that had once been her husband. + +He had given her the gift she most desired--death. A gift that had +cost him his life. + +The savage horde went from the room, thirsting for further slaughter, +maddened by the vengeance that had been taken from them. + +Yet in Mhaki’s mind a doubt lingered. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + “_Ah me! we believe in evil,_ + _Where once we believed in good._” + +The first puff of cool afternoon wind came sighing up from the +distant sea, stirring the creepers on Harding’s veranda. As the cool +breeze moved the heated air there was a slight stir in a hammock slung +across its shadiest corner. At the movement, a washed-out English +nurse, sitting close at hand, glanced at her patient--a girl so thin +and wasted that she appeared to leave no impression on the pillows +supporting her. + +Nearly a month had passed since Leslie had come, soaked and +blood-splashed, to Harding’s bungalow. + +The happenings of that night stood out like a ghastly nightmare--a +chaos of blackness, wild wind, driving rain, mad laughter and blood. +She had stumbled on, lost in the blinding darkness, battling against +the raging storm in a maze of trees and thorns and mud, with the +feeling of some Terror close behind her; so close that the fact froze +out all thought of the elements she was battling against with the mad +haste of a hunted thing. + +Out of the black night and driving rain a voice had called her by +name. + +“Leslie, my darling, where are you? Oh God!” it had cried again and +again. + +The sound had made her rush into a deep stagnant pool, and stay there, +crouched up to the neck in foul water, heedless of the swarm of great +leeches that had fixed on her, screening her face with the blackness +of her hair, lest its whiteness should betray her: in shivering, +deadly terror lest the frantic thumping of her heart and her own +sobbing, panting breath should be heard above the howl of the storm. + +How long she crouched there listening as Lebrassa searched round she +did not know. Then he had gone, still calling frantically, until his +voice was lost in the night. + +Creeping out from her refuge, she had gone on and on and on, her only +desire to reach whiteness and light again. + +She had found Molly’s house at last. + +Light was reached. Then--! + +Something must have snapped in her head, for she woke up in a strange +bedroom with a shriveled, dried, grasshopper-looking little man +sitting beside her. + +In his patient, as well as shock and strain, Atherley had had to fight +against malaria fever. Yet, with skilful nursing and in the care of a +doctor who knew every turn of the treacherous tropical disease, Leslie +was slowly creeping back to life. + +Fletcher and his brother officers had scoured the country. However, +they had found no trace of Lebrassa, and learned nothing of him except +that the morning after the massacre in Cooper’s bungalow, a couple of +Mohammedan traders had called at a medical mission about twenty-five +miles away. The younger of the two, a giant of a man, had a broken +right arm, the result, so he had said, of his companion’s revolver +going off accidentally. + +Beyond a doubt the man was the Hyena. + +When Leslie returned to reason she had told all she knew of that +night’s happenings, and there the matter ended. + +On the river bank the Lebrassa & Cooper factory lay closed and silent. +On the outskirts of the settlement the bungalow stood empty and +lifeless, overgrown and entangled, its tragedy sleeping quietly in the +embrace of black earth. And on the balcony of Harding’s house lay the +girl who had escaped from that night of rapine and slaughter. + +Presently the sound of men’s voices drifted along with the sighing +wind. A couple of soldierly figures came up the balcony steps. Harding +went on, round the corner to the shady spot where Leslie’s hammock was +slung, but his companion remained at the head of the stairs, in a +state of obvious fidgets. + +When the Major appeared round the corner, a feeble smile greeted him. + +By Leslie’s side, he came to a halt, patting her worn face tenderly. + +“Well, how’s my little girl?” he asked. “Feeling equal to a visitor?” + +Leslie guessed who the visitor was, and a faint tinge of color came to +her white cheeks. + +“If it’s Captain Fletcher, I’d like to see him,” she said faintly. + +So far she had seen no one except the nurse, doctor, and her host. + +Perhaps Fletcher had never felt so clumsy and nervous, or so +speechless, as when, a few moments later, he sat by Leslie’s hammock +bereft of the support of his friend and the nurse, who had withdrawn, +leaving him alone with the patient. + +He was not used to feminine society. Most of his adult life had been +spent on the edge of one of the wildest parts of the Empire, where +from year’s end to year’s end he never saw a white woman. Now, as he +watched the girl among the pillows, he felt keenly the loss of the +gift of free and easy conversation. + +However, Leslie broke the silence before it grew strained. + +“Captain Fletcher, I can never thank you enough for all you did--that +night. I know you were wounded in saving me. I’m awfully sorry you’ve +been hurt, because it… it was all my fault.” + +Fletcher could answer remarks, even if he could not broach subjects of +his own. + +“Some one must have been exaggerating about my injuries,” he said. “I +was out and running about the same day. So you see I couldn’t have +been seriously damaged. And how do you make it out to be all your +fault?” + +“If I hadn’t told that--that dreadful man what I overheard you saying +that night in the Harrogate hotel, all this would never have +happened.” + +No one knew better than Fletcher what had been lost by that piece of +thoughtlessness, but he had always kept to himself the fact that +Leslie had inadvertently told Lebrassa he was under suspicion. Now, +his one idea was to soothe the girl, never to let her know the extent +of her folly. + +“You foolish child,” he said gently. “Lebrassa would have suspected +the moment he saw me. What you said made no difference at all.” + +Leslie cast a quick glance at the sun-bitten face beside her. + +“It’s very kind of you to say so,” she said humbly. + +“I mean it,” he replied emphatically. “He knows I’ve been on his trail +for the last ten years. If you must know, that’s really my job. Sort +of secret police business. Sleuthhounding round for any clue that may +lead up to the catching of that villain.” + +His words comforted Leslie a little. + +“He took my letter,” she volunteered. “The one Molly never got, that +made her marry Mr. Cooper. I can’t think why he did it.” + +Fletcher agreed it was a mystery. + +“He told me all about the Hyena,” she went on. “I’d no idea there +really were people of that sort. So different from what they seemed… +so absolutely dreadful.” + +“Lebrassa has deceived most people, many of them men twice your age +and used to dealing with all manner of villains. So it’s not very +surprising if he succeeded in your case.” + +“I thought you were not just, not fair,” Leslie confessed, “and all +the time you were right. I shall never forgive myself for not +listening to you from the first.” + +The arrival of Atherley with “Time’s up, young man,” resulted in the +routing of Fletcher. + +However, he did not go very far away. Only round the corner to a spot +where Harding was sitting. + +Presently Atherley joined the two. Then over whiskey and soda, they +listened to Fletcher’s plan for getting Leslie out of the country in +such a way that Lebrassa would have no inkling of where she was. + +The doctor, whose leave was about due, was to take her, and Fletcher +insisted the financing of the affair was his concern alone. + +The plan of campaign was as follows. + +From Calabar River it was possible to get to another river, Rio del +Rey, about forty miles away. At the trading stations there, steamers +called at stated times. By one of these Atherley and his charge would +proceed to the island of Fernando Po. An express German steamer was +due there within the next fortnight. By it the two would proceed to +Hamburg, and on by rail to some place on the Riviera until Leslie was +fit to take up life again. + +“And then?” Harding asked, as Fletcher finished. + +“Then I expect she’ll go her own way,” the captain answered in a +gloomy manner. “Because none of us has any legal claim or hold on +her.” + +“You great overgrown ass, why don’t you ask her to marry you?” +Atherley put in. + +For a moment it looked as though Fletcher would resent the question. + +“I’ve no reason to believe she even likes me,” he replied stiffly. “To +ask her now when she’s under an obligation to me would be taking a +mean advantage. The child is absolutely penniless. She might feel +bound to take my offer--no matter what her own feelings were--as the +only possible way of paying off her debt.” + +Harding’s voice eased the situation. + +“I’ve a brother-in-law in the Portuguese wine trade. If I wrote to my +sister and asked her to take Miss Graham as her companion, I know she +would. Then at least we should know where the child was.” + +“I say, that’s awfully decent of you,” Fletcher said, relieved. + +During the next week the three men devoted a good deal of time to the +mechanism and working of the doctor’s launch. Dispensing with the +negro crew, the little craft took short runs in the cool of the +afternoon with these three budding engineers and Leslie as passenger. + +On the river bank the usual crowd of loafing negroes watched their +exit and return. + +One day the three Englishmen and their solitary passenger set off as +usual. However, they failed to return at the customary hour. This fact +appeared to interest a couple of the negroes, for they waited until +darkness came. + +Night fell, but there was no sign of the truant launch. + +Presently, out of the dark forest, came the wild roll of a native drum +with curious little intermittent taps. Another answered it. And still +another, from farther and ever farther away, repeating the rhythm +until it was lost in distance. + +However, before the news of Leslie’s departure reached Lebrassa, she +was lying under the awning of a steamer in Rio del Rey, waiting for +the evening tide to bear her down the river and away from Africa. + +By her side Fletcher was sitting. + +Now that the actual parting had come he was more tongue-tied than +ever. On Leslie, too, had fallen a cloak of silence. + +Strained and anxious, she was watching the man at her side. + +“Captain Fletcher,” she said presently in a nervous voice, “I can +never thank you for all your kindness to me.” + +“That’s nothing,” he said hastily. “If you’ll drop me a line +occasionally I shall be more than repaid.” + +“Of course I shall write to you.” + +There was another pause, broken this time by the “All ashore” bell. + +“Well, I must push off,” Fletcher said, getting to his feet. + +Leslie got up also. + +“You will keep out of the way of that dreadful Hyena, won’t you?” she +asked anxiously. + +He took the hand she was offering, holding it carefully. + +“Don’t you worry about that,” he said cheerfully. “Lebrassa will make +it his business to avoid me. Now, good-by, and take care of yourself. +And… and may I come and see you during my next leave,” he stammered. + +“If you think such a foolish person is… is worth keeping in touch +with,” she said shyly. + +“Worth keeping in touch with!” he echoed. + +Then feeling himself on the edge of a proposal, hastily he shook the +girl’s hand and turned quickly away. + +Presently he was gazing longingly after a steamer that was +disappearing round a bend of the river. + +On its deck Leslie lay, wondering drearily if her folly had quite +alienated Captain Fletcher. During the past week, although they had +been quite a lot together, he had never shown the least sign of +straying beyond the friendship stage. In her eyes, now, he was a hero, +not the interfering busybody he had once seemed. + +As she pondered on the problem she watched the sunset. + +Great, black clouds, flecked with lurid red, loomed up over the land +she was leaving, looking almost as if they were chasing her. + +As she gazed at them a violent shiver ran through her. She would much +rather have had one of the brilliant, rainbow-hued sunsets that had +fallen to her lot many times during her brief tragic stay in Africa. +Not this ominous banking of black and red. For it seemed to suggest +that the blood and blackness could not be left behind so easily. + + + + + PART TWO + + “Love of my life! we had lights in season-- + Hard to part from, harder to keep. + We had strength to labor and souls to reason, + And seed to scatter and fruits to reap. + Though time estranges and fate disperses, + We have _had_ our loves and our loving mercies: + Though the gifts of the light in the end are curses + Yet bides the gift of the darkness--sleep!” + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + “‘_Our burdens are heavy, our natures weak,_ + _Some pastime devoid of harm_ + _May we look for? Puritan elder, speak!_’ + ‘_Yea, friend, peradventure thou mayest seek_ + _Recreation singing a psalm._’” + +The Kubu Mission had a new convert. His industry was a marvel; his +progress a matter that afforded a never-ending topic of conversation +to the teachers of the Mission. + +He had come to them some eight months before, clad only in a +loin-cloth, speaking an uncouth African dialect, and with a habit of +squatting on his heels. Now, he was sitting out on the veranda of the +schoolhouse, in a civilized manner, on a chair, attired in a +full-blown suit of white drill, with his large feet encased in a pair +of canvas shoes. + +He was reading the “Pilgrim’s Progress” in English; and in a stiff, +stilted, negro manner, he could now speak this language very well. + +For hours this young convert would sit at the feet of his pastors +while they told him of the wonders and glories of England. And he +would listen in round-eyed astonishment, asking them endless +questions--most of them on purely secular subjects. + +When they were tired of talking he would thank them humbly and then go +and perform lowly tasks about the place. But as he worked he smiled to +himself with a depth of ferocity that would have startled the gentle +missionaries had they seen it. + +For motives known only to himself Nanza was doing what is vulgarly +called “learning the ropes.” + +This particular afternoon as he sat in the shade of the schoolhouse +reading, he put down his “Pilgrim’s Progress” and drew from his pocket +a string of nondescript objects, and stayed studying it intently. + +It looked like a kite’s tail. There were half-a-dozen cowrie shells of +varying sizes, beads of different hues, several nuts and dried +berries, punctuated with feathers and strips of rag of divers colors, +all threaded and tied together on a single piece of string. + +To Nanza it represented a letter. A letter, moreover, from the +high-priest Mhaki. + +The barbaric message worried him extremely. First by the fact that the +high-priest knew his whereabouts, secondly by its contents. + +It left him undecided whether to answer in person, or whether to fly +from this seat of learning. He knew the cunning of his cousin the +Sultan, and this might be a trap. + +When Nanza had fled from Calabar his one object had been +self-preservation. As soon as this was accomplished, his mind turned +to other subjects, chief among them being vengeance. + +Sometimes he wondered whether he would reveal the whereabouts of Kallu +to the authorities. But to do this meant the downfall of the power to +which he was still direct heir, and that would sweep away all chance +of supreme sultanship even more surely than his cousin’s marriage. + +For a long time he sat on the veranda considering whether or not he +would respond to Mhaki’s overtures. Finally he decided it was worth +risking. He knew his ground and could back out at the first sign of a +trap. + +About a fortnight later Nanza was approaching an up-country village +some two hundred miles removed from the Kubu Mission. However, he +showed no immediate desire to enter. Instead, he hid himself away in +the undergrowth and awaited nightfall. When darkness gathered he +entered the little town. + +There was an air of stealth about him as he crept through the muddle +of mud huts, palm trees, drinking pools and heaps of débris; an +obvious desire to avoid meeting any of the inhabitants. + +The place lay in darkness, the silence broken only by the snores that +issued from some of the huts and the squeaks and rustles of uneasy +domestic animals. + +Nanza went along in a manner that suggested his surroundings were not +entirely new, his objective the guest-house in the middle of the +village. Out of the purple darkness, lying like a pall over the +market-square, a light flickered and disappeared and flickered again +at regular intervals in the open door of the little hut in the center. + +For some time Nanza watched the light. So far as he could see the hut +was empty save for one old figure, nor did there appear to be any one +lurking in the vicinity. + +Presently, with the stealthy tread of a leopard, he went forward. + +Just inside the door of the guest hut was a negro of about sixty, who, +squatting on his heels on the mud floor, was busy pulling to and fro +the shutter of a battered dark lantern. + +Nanza’s approach made him look up. On seeing his visitor, he gave a +grunt of satisfaction. + +“So you recognized my signal?” he said by way of greeting. + +Nanza nodded. He entered the hut, and, drawing the palm-leaf shutter +screening the doorway into position, seated himself opposite the +high-priest. + +“How are things in Kallu, Mhaki?” he asked. “Is there any sign as yet +of a new heir? And how is it that _you_ are plotting against the +Sultan? Have my words proved true? Or is the Sultan so enamored with +the Star he has caught that he forgets the rites of the temple?” + +Mhaki cast a glance at his blustering visitor. Then he rolled a +portion of tobacco he was chewing across his tongue, and expectorated +with great deliberation before replying. + +“There is no bride in Kallu,” he said. + +The remark left Nanza amazed. He knew nothing of the final happenings +of that tragic night, nothing of Leslie’s escape or Molly’s death. + +“What do you mean?” he asked excitedly. + +Mhaki told how the Star had fled back to the night and had not +returned. + +Nanza laughed, a great roar of savage mirth. + +“So my cousin is not so successful in love as in war. And what did the +Ruler of the Night do when the Star he loved fooled him?” + +“It’s because of what he did and what he did not do that I searched +for you,” Mhaki answered. “I am his servant, but, before him, I have +sworn to serve the gods. It may be the Sultan spoke falsely, for the +girl he held was fair enough to melt even the heart of hatred.” + +The old man paused. + +“We of Kallu have almost forgotten that the Sultan’s father was _not_ +one of us, but of a race who make no war on women,” he continued a +moment later. “In past days I learnt much of the ways of white men +from Irena’s consort. Who knows what goes on in the heart of man when +eyes such as the Star’s have looked into it? Now, hearken, Nanza, Heir +of all Darkness. I will tell you my story, and when suspicion first +entered my heart, and all that has happened since.” + +Mhaki moved a little closer to his companion. The feeble light of the +lantern played on him fitfully, making him look like a gigantic black +toad shuffling along in the semi-darkness. + +Into Nanza’s ears was poured an account of what had taken place in +Cooper’s bungalow, when the first seed of doubt concerning Lebrassa’s +statements had been sown in Mhaki’s mind. + +“Yet,” he finished, “when I told the Sultan how Bhessu had killed the +woman who was his wife rather than give her to us, it was as nothing. +There was nothing in the Sultan’s mind but the lost Star; no thought +or regret for the vengeance that had been swept from him. Now, what do +_you_ think of that?” Mhaki asked. + +“A Sultan of Kallu does not take so lightly the passing of vengeance, +unless all thought of vengeance has long since passed from his mind,” +Nanza answered. + +Mhaki nodded to himself. + +“That was exactly what I thought,” he said. “And another thing. Had +not the love of Bhessu for the Sultan always been a byword in Kallu, +even where all worship him? Had not Bhessu as great a hatred for the +Queen Irena’s murderer as had the Sultan? Yet this faithful servant of +the Royal House did not turn from his wife when the truth was told +him. He swore the Sultan had lied! He, Bhessu, to whom the Sultan was +a god! He tried to save his wife, swearing she was not the daughter of +Irena’s murderer. Yet I saw the woman had the eyes and hair of that +foul traitor. Bhessu tried to prove to us by her age that she could +not have been a child of that thief. And I did not believe him, for in +my ears the Sultan’s words were still ringing.” + +Pausing, Mhaki laid a black, wrinkled hand on Nanza’s shoulder. + +“Yet there was a flaw somewhere,” he continued. “With the next sunrise +I went with the Sultan, who had been injured in his efforts to get the +Star from the white men, to a Mission where his wound was dressed. I +saw a white woman there, a teacher. Of a servant I inquired her age. +To me she looked a girl. And I was told she was over thirty! Three +years older than the woman who was Bhessu’s wife. There is no reason +why that servant at the Mission should have lied to me. And then I +began to wonder who had lied, Bhessu or the Sultan?” + +Silence reigned in the hut as Mhaki finished speaking. The wind moaned +around the deserted market square, bringing with it distant forest +howls and the gentle sigh of the palms. + +Nanza heard nothing of these noises. He was thinking over all the +high-priest had told him, glowing with inward satisfaction at the +thought of the white man’s learning which was now his, and which would +help him to prove the suspicions lingering in his companion’s mind. + +“What do you want of me?” he asked, finally. + +“I am an old man,” Mhaki answered. “A faithful servant of Doomana. And +I would know the truth, yea, even if it means my death. For in Kallu +we have no use for traitors.” + +“Even so,” Nanza agreed. “Tell me what I can do, and I will do it.” + +“If you knew the ways and speech of the English, the plan I have +thought of would be robbed of half its difficulties. There is always +gold and to spare at Kallu. For that white men will tell you all you +care to ask.” + +Evilly Nanza smiled. + +Then he told Mhaki how he had been occupied since his hurried flight +from Calabar. + +In a calculating manner the high-priest looked at him. + +“It’s no child’s game we’re playing. And I am still the servant of the +reigning Sultan. It is the truth alone I seek. If it be proved the +Sultan Essel has spoken truly then it will be well for you, O Nanza, +to keep from this country. There will be ten thousand watching lest +you betray Kallu. Yet, if it be proved that the Sultan Essel loves +where he should hate, then he dies, and I am the faithful servant of +the Sultan Nanza.” + +“The stakes are high, but I am willing to venture all,” the younger +man answered. + +“Think well. I am setting you no light task. Nor am _I_ easily +deceived,” Mhaki said pointedly. “I, too, can read and write after the +manner of the white men. In the dead days Irena’s consort taught me +these things. All knowledge is good, and I have not forgotten my white +lore. The proof you bring must be no proof of mouth alone, but white +man’s proof with seals and documents and signatures. And I must have +time to ponder, to write and ask for myself the truth of what you may +bring.” + +With some eagerness Mhaki awaited Nanza’s reply, sufficiently +acquainted with his man to know that the fact of his return would +prove the truth of the papers he brought with him. + +“I am no child now, but Heir of Doomana,” Nanza answered proudly. +“That night when I accused my cousin, Essel, of treachery, I was +saying what Bhessu had told me more than a month before, when I +arrived in Calabar, sent by _you_ to inquire into the reason of the +Sultan’s long absence. What my sister said made me stay. When she +first spoke, I considered her words only a jealous woman’s madness. +Then I saw for myself that the Sultan was infatuated with the girl he +had brought with him. And I pondered on the matter, wondering if what +Yoni said were true. For it struck me that a woman sees deeper into +the heart of a man than does a man.” + +“That’s so,” Mhaki agreed. + +“I watched the Sultan with the maid he had sworn to kill. Love made +him deaf, for often I stood close by, spying. And there is a saying in +Kallu, did a fly but crawl the Sultan heard it! Yet none would believe +what I said. And now you, Mhaki, have doubts, even as I had.” + +Mhaki nodded. + +“Now, Nanza, listen,” he said, “and I’ll put my plan before you.” + +In the dim light the two drew closer together. + +“If the Sultan has lied, it would be vain for us to trace the lost +Star. He will have destroyed all evidence against her. If he is a +traitor, we have need of her, so that he may see her die first. The +Ruler of the Night has searched for her in vain these nine months. We +will let him search. If he can’t find her, the task is beyond us. But +we will go to work in another manner. We will find out more about the +other woman, the one Bhessu held as wife. Go first to Calabar. Learn +all you can about her from his friends there. Afterwards proceed to +England and probe further. If you can prove she was _not_ the daughter +of that foul murderer, then ten thousand will call you Sultan of +Kallu.” + +Pausing, the high-priest drew a small leather bag from his loin-cloth +and dropped it in front of his visitor. + +“This bag of pebbles means great wealth in England. Take it, and +remember there is short shrift for traitors, you or the Sultan Essel.” + +With that Nanza rose and passed out into the night. + + + + + CHAPTER XX + + “_As we’ve sown so we must reap._” + +Mail day was the great event of the month at Tuata, Northern +Nigeria, one of the most isolated of British outposts. The district +was a vast tract of dense forest with no means of communication beyond +the trails leading from one village to another. + +It was so peaceable that Mellors, the commissioner, occasionally found +it in his heart to wish for a little more excitement. In fact, it was +so law-abiding, in a part where uprisings were frequent, that Captain +Lindsay Fletcher had come to Tuata to pursue his investigations in the +tangled, almost unexplored forest that comprised most of the district; +to find out if those hundreds of miles of dense wilderness held any +clue to the Hyena’s headquarters. + +At that moment under consideration the Government representatives were +stretched out on cane lounges on the veranda of Mellors’ bungalow, +deep in the contents of the newly arrived mail. + +Captain Fletcher was lost in an epistle signed “Leslie Graham.” + +Nearly a year had passed since he had last seen the writer, and during +the period letters from that source had come to him regularly at the +rate of about one a month, all of which he had kept and treasured. + +The broiling midday sun poured down on the cleared hill where the tiny +town was situated. No sound broke the hot silence except the sleepy +drone of insects and the rustle of paper, as Fletcher, Mellors, and a +young subaltern went through the monthly mail. + +All at once, a sudden order to halt, issued by the _Hausa_ sentry on +duty at the top of the balcony steps, made the three Englishmen look +up. + +A tattered, blood-stained figure was ascending the stairs--a negro +assistant at a trading factory, to judge from his garments. His left +arm was tied up in an unskilful manner in a caked and gory cloth, and +there was a wild, hunted look in his eyes as he stood, swaying with +fatigue, at the top of the steps. + +This apparition brought the Englishmen to their feet. + +“Hello, my friend, what has happened?” Mellors asked, going quickly +towards the wounded negro. + +“They all dead, all dead,” the man gasped. “Massa Barton, Massa Joe, +Congo Sam, Brass Boys. All dead. All but me. I see um die. Killed all +dead. And dem wild mans laugh! Laugh, all time. Laugh like de debil.” + +Barton’s was one of the few trading stations scattered throughout the +district; it was a store situated near a big village about twenty +miles away, and run by two brothers of that name. + +“Good Lord!” Mellors ejaculated. “It means the whole factory has been +wiped out.” + +“I expect it has,” Fletcher replied. “From what this fellow says it +sounds like some of the Hyena’s work.” + +“Then we’re in for a lively time if he’s taken it into his head to +prowl round my district,” Mellors said. + +Fletcher turned to the negro. + +“Tell me all you know,” he said quietly. + +Between breathless gasps the story came out--a short one--and the +tactics Fletcher knew very well. + +Just before midnight of the preceding day the store had been set on +suddenly by a score of fiends who had risen, so it seemed, from the +earth with howls of mad laughter. He, the speaker, had been cut down +as he fired the alarm, trampled on, and left for dead as the marauders +swept on towards his masters’ sleeping quarters. + +Before they returned he had managed to crawl away and hide himself in +the forest. The two Englishmen and their assistants had fought till +the greater force had overpowered them. Then the raiders had set fire +to the factory. + +“My aunt! To think that was all going on within twenty miles of us. +And I was playing patience last night because I’d nothing better to +do,” the subaltern said, sorrowfully. + +“Well, my son, you’ll have something else to do this evening,” Mellors +rejoined grimly. “You can go along with Fletcher and help him to clean +up the mess at Barton’s place.” + +In less than an hour Fletcher and the youngster, with a detachment of +_Hausas_, were en route for Barton’s factory. + +It was early afternoon when the expedition left Tuata. For the first +twelve miles they went along a narrow path in the silent forest, which +twisted, like an endless snake, between immense towering trees all +festooned and matted together by a mass of parasitic growths. There +were patches of swamp on the route, rudely bridged by half-submerged +trunks of trees, covered again with small boughs and rushes to make a +safe passage across the quaking bog that lay, black and green-patched, +stretching away beneath a low arch of twining vegetation. + +Twilight gathered early in the green shade of this dense forest, +bringing with it the usual thick miasma. The last glimmer of daylight +vanished by the time the journey was rather more than half completed. +Fletcher called a halt for rest and refreshments, before pushing on +into the thick blackness. + +The journey was started again, the party proceeding in single file, +the captain leading. It was a dark night, with a saturating mist; no +glimmer of starlight could penetrate the matted growth; and there +would be no moon before the small hours of the morning; even then, no +matter how brilliant the flood of light, only the merest ray would +pierce through into the tangled depths. All around lay the sleeping +forest, its silence broken by the rustle of their movements, the +distant howls of a prowling leopard or the booming of some night-bird. + +For nearly half-an-hour they went along, until the most intricate part +of the trail was reached; a tangle so thick and overgrown that even in +single file they had great difficulty in pushing through. + +Then, suddenly, without the least warning, a blaze of fire was opened +on them, lighting up the mist and night with its flare. It was +followed by a screech of hideous mirth, a roar of devil’s laughter, +the snarl of a hundred maddened beasts. + +Fletcher knew that sound only too well. + +A brief, grim, death-struggle began. Shadows fought with shadows in a +shadowy mist. Shrieks and yells, groans and hoarse commands, dull +yellow flashes and the clang of steel, came from every side. It was a +nightmare of blackness and blood, fog, fire and ghastly yells. + +Fletcher’s little force fought with the madness of cornered creatures; +but they were surrounded, split up, outnumbered easily three to one. + +All at once a red-hot something seemed to sear Fletcher’s brain, and +in its train came an all-prevailing silence. + +There followed a vista of pain and heat and thirst. When consciousness +returned he was being jogged along in a litter; all was darkness, yet +the twitter of birds and other daylight sounds reached him. He tried +to move his right arm, but it appeared to be fixed to his side. Any +attempt to raise the left resulted in excruciating agony. + +Slowly events came back to him, bringing in their wake a suppressed +shudder; for he realized he had fallen into the hands of the Hyena! + +He lay wondering how long it was since the ambush, and why, instead of +killing him, his captor had nursed him back to life. A sudden chill +swept away the feverish heat enveloping him as the fate of other white +officers who had fallen alive into the hands of the Hyena rushed back +to his mind. + +A halt roused him. The cloth screening his eyes was removed, his +uninjured arm loosened. Weakly he raised himself and inspected his +surroundings. The interior of a native hut met his gaze, the door +guarded by a trio of savages. By his side lay the subaltern, moaning +and gazing round with fevered blue eyes. + +A glance told Fletcher the boy was past saying anything. Swaying with +weakness, he struggled to his feet and, aided by the walls, tottered +to the door, his first instinct to get an idea of his surroundings. +The three on guard there quickly gave him to understand he was not to +go outside. He sat down again, too weak and dazed to argue the matter. + +As he sat, limp and sagging on a packing case, brooding on the +situation, a movement of the guard roused him. His gaze went to a +figure just entering. And remained there. + +The man was one he had grown to know very well during the voyage out +on the _Batava_, as spotless and immaculate now, in well-cut white +drill and broad, sombrero hat, as he had been when he strolled up and +down the deck, alone and aloof; or stood talking in a half-bored, +half-amused manner, to the girl whose voice could stop his stealthy, +caged-lion march, whose presence banished the habitual expression of +contempt his face wore when she was not about. + +Lebrassa crossed the hut, and, ignoring Fletcher completely, knelt by +the side of the moaning boy. He dressed the lad’s wounds and +readjusted the bandages with a care and gentleness that left Fletcher +marveling. + +The mulatto seemed to feel his prisoner’s fixed gaze. Presently he +looked round, the cruel lines about his mouth deepening. + +“You notice I’ve a liking for blue eyes, Captain Fletcher,” he said. +“If your ravings are to be believed, it’s a weakness we share in +common.” + +The Englishman knew quite well what Lebrassa was hinting at, and he +ignored the remarks. + +Presently Lebrassa got up and came to his side. + +“With your permission I’ll dress your shoulder too,” he said suavely. +“Dr. Hillman, my surgeon, has just started for Europe on a very +important mission, so his duties fall to my lot. I’m afraid my men +mauled you about pretty severely and I’ve a reason for wanting you +whole. However, as it happened, it made no difference, except that +you’ve missed three days’ appreciation of my scheme of exchange and +barter.” + +Fletcher still ignored his captor. + +“I’ve been impatiently awaiting your return to reason,” Lebrassa +continued, “so that I can tell you, among other things, that Barton’s +factory was _not_ raided by me. I merely wanted you to go that way +because the path offered the best ambush in the district of Tuata. My +messenger played his part well, and you very kindly walked into my +trap. I’ve been most anxious to meet you. I thought you might be able +to give me Miss Graham’s address. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me +freely. But you’re sufficiently versed in my methods to know I can use +ways of extracting information perhaps not recognized by the British +Army.” + +Much as Lebrassa tried, he could not keep a note of savage hate from +leaking into the suave, friendly tone he had adopted. + +“You black devil!” Fletcher cried. “You may torture me till Doomsday, +but I won’t tell you where she is.” + +The mulatto laughed, low and fierce, and with intense satisfaction. + +“I admire your sentiments,” he said. “However, the circumstances are +now beyond you. Mental tortures, I know from personal experience, +exceed any amount of physical pain. This, I think, will explain what I +mean.” + +From his pocket Lebrassa drew a packet of bloodstained letters and +dropped them on Fletcher’s knee. They had on them Portuguese stamps, +and the writing was Leslie’s. + +Blankly Fletcher stared at the package. + +“I came across these when I searched your unconscious body,” Lebrassa +continued. “They told me all I wanted to know. I may add that as soon +as I learnt Miss Graham’s address I sent Dr. Hillman as special envoy +to her, offering your life in exchange for herself.” + +Fletcher was beyond speech. One hand went across his brow as he gazed +at the letters on his knee. Letters he had treasured and always +carried about with him. Letters that would put Leslie again into the +Hyena’s hands! + +As the meaning of it all penetrated his dazed brain, a sudden desire +to do murder seized him. Everything passed from him--the knowledge of +his own wounds and weakness, the giant strength of his captor. A red +cloud surrounded him, and out of it a dark face looked with savage +hatred and mocking triumph. + +He staggered to his feet and made a dash at the other’s brown, +muscular throat, heedless of the excruciating agony of his shoulder. +For his effort tore the wound open and brought the blood pouring down +his arm. + +A push from Lebrassa sent him reeling backwards. Sick with pain and +the sense of his own helplessness, he sank back weakly onto the +packing case, and with a stifled groan buried his face in his hands. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + “_Let me gather a little strength to think,_ + _As one who reels on the outermost brink,_ + _To the innermost gulf descending._” + +In a summer-house of one of the several châlets perched up among +the Cintra mountains sat Leslie. Far below was a vista of hill and +dale, forests of cork and chestnut, groves of orange, lemon and olive +trees, white villages and red, ploughed fields and, in the distance, +the silver sea and Lisbon. + +Behind towered rock-strewn heights, standing black and sinister +against the sunlit sky, their craggy sides patched with somber pines +and firs. Suspended like a jewel in the heavens, was the Palacio da +Pena (the Palace of Sorrow), with its three golden domes flashing in +the clear blue sky. + +Nearly a fortnight ago Leslie’s employers had sent her up to their +mountain resort. For suddenly she had become pale and thin, had lost +interest in her duties and in the round of gaieties which fell to her +lot as companion to one of the most popular women in Lisbon. In fact, +she was again the sad-eyed, listless girl who had come to Lisbon +nearly a year before on Major Harding’s recommendation. + +Yet this sudden lack of energy was not due to overmuch dancing in the +Portuguese capital as her employers suspected. It resulted from an +item seen in the month-old paper now lying on her knee--a curt notice +of an occurrence that frequently happens in the running of an Empire. + + + “News comes from Tuata, Northern Nigeria, of the death of two British + officers, Captain Lindsay Fletcher and Lieutenant Paul Vincent. They, + and a small company of _Hausas_, were ambushed and massacred by a + party of natives. The whole of the British force was annihilated. The + bodies of the _Hausas_ were recovered, but no trace of the murdered + officers’ bodies has been found.” + + +Inside the folded newspaper were ten letters from West Africa, all +written by Fletcher--letters with a curious air of restraint about +them. + +Over a year had passed since Leslie had said good-by to Dr. Atherley. +Her new life in a strange land, with its round of pleasures and slight +duties, together with the kindness and consideration of her new +friends, had eased the blow of Molly’s tragic end. Lebrassa she still +thought of with a shudder. But as time passed he faded somewhat from +her mind and was no longer the constant, haunting specter he had been +during the early months following her departure from West Africa. + +She sat, white and tearless, thinking of the man she loved, murdered +out in darkest Africa, wondering, in a numb, heartbroken way, why the +world went on just as usual. + +As she sat there brooding, the approach of a servant, with a letter on +a salver, roused her. + +Picking it up, she glanced at the envelope. The postmark was Lisbon, +re-addressed to her from her employers’ house there. The writing was +vaguely familiar, yet she could not put it down to any one of her +acquaintances in that city. + +Thinking it must be some invitation she opened it. She drew out no +card, but thin sheets of foreign correspondence paper. The opening +phrase brought a gasp of alarm to her lips. Quickly she turned it over +and looked at the signature. + +It was one she had seen before, on a letter that had come to her +eighteen months ago in London--a brief note telling her the name of +the boat that was to take her to West Africa, the time of sailing and +the best train to Liverpool. + + + “_Essel Lebrassa._” + + +Big and all-powerful the name looked back at her, blinding her to +everything but the fact of its presence. + +With wide, dilated eyes she scanned the letter her shaking hands held. + + + _Little White Rose_, + + There is so much I want to tell you, that I want you to believe, that + I would have told you, but you fled away from me. Why did you, Leslie? + I thought I had been through most of the phases of mental agony this + existence can offer, but the knowledge that you were out in that + driving gale, battling with wind and rain through miles of forest, and + that fear of me had sent you there, caused me the deepest suffering I + have yet known. You will not believe me when I say that the greatest + joy of my life was when I heard you had recovered from the effects of + that night. Yet I am such a savage. I am writing to you now to make + you come back to me. + + Little friend, you once had so much sympathy. Why did you take it from + me? Just when I needed it most. When you knew me for who I was, the + depths of vile blackness in me, the red flood wherein I had sought + oblivion. And some of the white, too, that _you_ could always bring to + the top. + + I was a brute that night. I think I touched the bottom of a seemingly + bottomless hell. I would have injured the little girl who trusted me. + But your scorn and contempt maddened me, roused every atom of the vile + black blood in me. + + There was a time--so long ago that I had almost forgotten it until I + met you--when I tried to conquer every evil passion the negro blood + brought with it. And I succeeded. Yet it proved no use. All I had been + working for was swept from me by an act of treachery, by a man who + should have been my best friend. I left England for Africa, went back + to a heritage I knew was mine, where I was welcomed and worshipped as + a god and Sultan, not an object of contempt, as I was in your country, + to be sneered at and called a “nigger,” and treated as though I were + immeasurably beneath the poorest white trash civilization produces. + + I was not twenty when I left the white world, to take up every rite + and custom of my mother’s people, and very bitter against my father’s + race because they had dealt out to me nothing but sneers and insults + and injustice. + + I had once hoped to make a name for myself, not in the way I have + since done, but honorably. My birth and one man’s crime barred me out + from that, so I tried another way, and succeeded. I think I am born + for success, provided there is no honor attached to it. I tried to win + you honorably, Leslie, though you will not believe me. And all the + time I knew how poor my chance was. You were mine, more mine even than + you know, the white side of me that had come back embodied in an angel + who had deigned to be my friend. + + I want to tell you, little rose, of the worship and adoration in my + heart. Yet I know you have no wish to hear it. No pleading or love I + could offer would bring you to me willingly, as I had once hoped, + foolishly, wildly. Your white hands had touched me gently once or + twice with such sympathy and understanding, that I dared to think you + might give yourself into my keeping. + + I was always a dreamer, Leslie, and always rudely awakened. I had + forgotten what I was--a creature black and bloodstained. Such a flood + of blood and blackness that it swept away the one friend life had + given me; one I would have chosen had fate made me as other men. + + I must have the one pure thing that has come into this nightmare life + of mine. I am so thirsty down here at the bottom of my black hell, + thirstier than ever before for goodness and purity. My little angel + knows the truth about me; no small white hands will touch me willingly + again; no rose will flood me with its sweetness. + + Because of the vile depths of blackness in me, I must make a bargain + with the whiteness that has spurned me. + + Little Rose, I hold a life in my hand. I will give it to you in + exchange for yourself. A man’s life for one sweet white flower from an + English garden. One whom you now call “friend,” as you once called me. + It is Captain Fletcher. + + What a threat to use! One that will make you loathe and despise me + more utterly than ever. I am a brute even to my most cherished + treasure, whom I would have know only the best in me, but to whom Fate + has determined to show the worst. + + Captain Fletcher is my prisoner, not dead, as will be reported, but + captured by me with but one motive--to learn your whereabouts. If you + will come to me his life is yours--his and that of his brother officer + whom I took at the same time. The day you arrive at Kallu they will be + sent back to the nearest British station. If you refuse to come they + both die. It is for you to choose. Even if you refuse to come, you + cannot escape me. I know where you are now. My servants will be + watching your every movement, awaiting an opportunity to trap you and + bring you out here. The first is the quicker method, that is why I + have adopted it. I am so hungry for you; so hungry to have my little + English rose set in the sweetest garden earth holds. And I must make a + further compact with my rose, lest she betray me. + + I have sent a guardian to Lisbon for you, Dr. Hillman, who, for the + next week will wait all day in the Rocio. If you are willing to give + yourself in exchange for Captain Fletcher, you have only to stand by + the statue in the middle, with a white rosebud in your hand. He will + give you another letter. You must do what it says, and say nothing to + any one of where you are going. You will come out to Africa as his + daughter. There will be eyes watching you always. Any attempt on your + part to betray either me or my servant will result in Captain + Fletcher’s death. + + How can I expect you to do anything but hate and loathe me? I am the + Sultan of Kallu, with ten thousand souls to treat as I please, yet I + am the son of an English nobleman, an upright and honorable man who + would have had me the same, but he reckoned without my mother and the + race of savage rulers she sprang from. _You_ can keep me the son of my + father, even after twenty years of savagery, if you will. Be my sweet + angel of pity, as you once were. Don’t drive me quite back to + barbarism, Leslie. Try to have toleration and pity on your side. Love + I could not hope for, but just a little something, dearest, that would + hold us together outside the power of my arms. + + Essel Lebrassa. + + +With trembling hands Leslie put the letter down. The first feeling +that came out of the chill, sick daze enveloping her was one of relief +to know Fletcher was alive. The full meaning of what the price of his +life meant she was too stunned to realize. She only knew he was not +dead and that she could save him. + +None of the pathos and the pleading in the letter came to her. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + “_Mask more subtle, and disguise_ + _Far less shallow, thou dost need, O_ + _Traitor, to deceive my eyes._” + +Mammy Illa and her little brown piccaninny were well known on the +steamers that plied up and down the West Coast of Africa. It was +nearly eighteen months since she had first appeared among the batch of +native women who boarded the vessels at Sierra Leone for the purpose +of disposing of various articles of local manufacture to the European +passengers. + +She stood now in a corner by the gangway of an outward-bound British +steamer, picturesquely clad in a full, short-sleeved bodice and skirt +of gaily printed blue and yellow cotton cloth. Around her were +arranged carved calabashes, baskets and mats of all shapes made from +crudely dyed rushes, plaited and twisted leather-work, a few pieces of +carved ivory, and roughly made trinkets of gold. + +In the midst of all these wares sat a solemn-eyed mite of a girl. + +All the world, black and white, who passed up and down to West Africa +could be seen in that first port of call on the coast. And this Yoni +knew when, under an alias, she made her way there. + +The town lay behind her now, a delightful little place situated at the +foot, and half-way up, a mountain. It was criss-crossed with red +streets where grew brightly flowering shrubs, tall grass and cocoanut +palms. On the hill at the back, airy bungalows nestled among lime, +lemon and orange trees, with now and again a cluster of fluttering +bananas, a vivid red acacia looking like a splash of fire, or an odd +patch of quaint, stiff cacti with brilliant scarlet and yellow +flowers, all backed by the eternal, glowing green of West Africa, and +set under a sky of blazing blue. + +Yoni had no eyes for the treacherous beauty of her native land. Her +gaze was on the passengers. One especially--an overdressed negro in +gray flannels, scarlet tie, and panama hat with a ribbon to match, who +had just emerged from the saloon. + +Five months before she had seen him pass out from Africa. On that +occasion she had claimed no acquaintance, knowing there were reasons +that would account for his departure from his native land. But she +could not reconcile herself to his return. Moreover, there was an air +of triumph about him that gave her a feeling of uneasiness. + +As Nanza stood by the saloon doorway, a voice speaking in a dialect +probably no other person on board understood, made him turn sharply. + +“What are you doing here, my brother?” it was asking. + +For a moment he stared at his sister in speechless astonishment. Then +a cunning look crossed his face. + +“And you, Yoni?” he asked. “Why do you stand at the gate of Africa, +watching?” + +“I have watched these eighteen months,” she replied. “I saw you pass +out, but I did not speak, knowing there would be bitterness in your +heart against me, for my jealousy nearly caused your death. Now I see +you return. Is it safe for you to do so?” + +Nanza smiled tigerishly. + +“I would stand well in the sight of our cousin, the Lord of Doomana,” +he replied. “So I made a journey to England searching for the lost +Star, by her recovery hoping to attain again his favor. It is not well +to have a Sultan of Kallu as an enemy, and I am hungry for my own +land.” + +“It was you then, who found her,” Yoni said with well-feigned +surprise. “She was here but a week ago, and with her was the white +doctor. It was a small Star, white and frozen, who has no love for the +Ruler of the Night. Nor have you, or I, Nanza. I want revenge on the +Sultan, yea, and on the Star too, who stole his heart from me.” + +Yoni had spoken to one of Leslie’s unofficial bodyguards. She knew +Nana was in no way responsible for the girl’s return. Now she wanted +to find out why her brother had returned to Africa, and what he was +doing. + +Yoni’s act of many months before, which had resulted in Nanza’s first +appearance in any spot approaching civilization, was the proceeding of +a woman scorned. Nanza’s counter-action of staying in Calabar and +playing the spy had made her realize that he was likely to develop +into something more than a jealous woman’s tool, a means of extracting +information she had been unable to obtain from Cooper. In fact, her +brother had seemed likely to develop into a menace to the Sultan. +Nanza’s departure from Africa left her with a feeling of relief. But +his return filled her with fears concerning the safety of her god and +Sultan. All the more because she knew Nanza had lied to her concerning +the reason of his visit to England. + +“Was it vengeance that took you to England?” she asked. “If so, I +would like to help you.” + +It was news to Nanza that Leslie had been found. But he did not tell +his sister so. + +“If you want vengeance, why did you give evidence in favor of what our +cousin said that night in Calabar?” he asked. + +“I’m only a woman. I feared he might slay me if I spoke against the +Star. And for the sake of vengeance I desired to live. The Lord of +Doomana was deceived by my action, thinking me then, as always, his +slave. So deceived that he left the Star in my keeping. Then my moment +came and I let her escape. For _your_ sake, Nanza, so that you might +still be the heir. Now you have brought the Star back to the Ruler of +the Night! Who knows what will please a man? And I am in ill-favor all +round. For it is not good to withhold from a Sultan of Kallu the woman +he desires.” + +“Nor is it good to withhold from the people of Kallu the blood that is +their due,” Nanza answered, in a tone of savage hate. + +Yoni’s face assumed an air of abject terror. + +“My brother will not betray me. What I did was from love of you. And +for that piece of treachery to the Lord of Doomana my life is +forfeit.” + +As Nanza watched his sister his suspicions died away. + +“It was a bad day for you, Yoni, when our cousin went to England on +the trail of vengeance, for he found the trail of love too. They were +so mixed, those two, that we of Kallu could not tell one from the +other until the Sultan gave us his word. And then, _of course_, we +doubted no longer. But now the Star has returned, and all will be +well.” + +Two great tears trickled down Yoni’s face. + +“It is well for you who have found her. Now you can return home in +honor. I, too, am hungry for my own people, and am shut out from them +forever,” she replied mournfully. + +Nanza laughed. + +“Who knows?” he said. “Even a sultan may die.” + +With that he sauntered off. + +Yoni watched him go, convinced that he knew something that might harm +her god. And the knowledge made her determined to warn the Sultan. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + “_Good night!--and--Good-by!_” + +The first red beam shot out of the east, sending the rich fiery glow +of dawning day over a vista of densely wooded country, breaking up the +thick veil of mist that night had drawn over the landscape. The +growing light showed an endless stretch of matted forest with only one +break as far as the eye could reach. There the marble ruins of a once +great city glinted; but time had broken it almost beyond recognition, +and vegetation was swallowing the little that remained. + +White carved columns stood side by side with those of Nature’s +rearing; great arches and the scattered stones of city walls stretched +away under deep, gloomy vaults of towering trees; graceful, fluttering +palms grew among the ruins of marble palaces. It was the remains of +one of those mystic, haunting cities occasionally met with by those +who probe the all-devouring forest wastes that comprise so much of +West Africa. + +There was still life in one corner of this shattered city; one patch +the all-shrouding vegetation had not yet covered up. + +Within a huge walled garden a tiny palace showed, Moorish in design +and of a recent era. It had graceful horse-shoe arches, columned +balconies and beautiful carved arabesque windows opening on to a +center courtyard smothered with roses. There fountains played, and +orange trees, white with blossom, shaded carved stone seats. + +This miniature palace was set in a great shady garden full of winding +walks, unexpected fountains and deep, still pools where gold and +silver fish flashed among the roots of pink, white and blue +water-lilies. Roses, from the deepest red to pure white, vied in +sweetness with the sensual perfume of a thousand tropical flowers. +Palms, mangoes and bread-fruit trees cast a welcome shade over patches +of violets. Wistarias showered down a flood of petals on whispering +bamboo, and trailing jessamine found support around the trunks of +grotesque, spiky-leaved dragon trees. + +The whole of this little paradise was walled by twenty feet of marble, +with only one entrance--a gilded gate that flashed in the rising sun. + +Outside the screening walls were scores of rude huts. From these came +a busy hum. Wild, black figures flitted to and fro, and were lost +among the ruins; others sat on the ground polishing knives and spears +and shields, until they vied with the sunshine. + +There was an air of savage gaiety over everything--no suggestion of +the warfare the industrious polishing of weapons might have led one to +expect. The Hyena’s following, when they went out to battle, were +armed with something very different from the crude spears, shields and +knives they cleaned amidst loud laughter and many jokes; but they all +agreed these made a better show than white man’s weapons, and who had +ever heard of a Sultan’s bride entering Kallu save under an arch of +spears held by the picked men of her lord’s army. + +So broad-bladed spears were cleaned, and heavy, elephant-hide shields, +with flashing brass knobs, polished with a right good-will. + +Had not the Ruler of the Night at last found the Star that was his +heart’s delight? Gossip, grunts, comments, much laughter and friendly +bantering went on, whilst the old-fashioned weapons grew ever +brighter, and the stacks of wood for bonfires ever higher. + +Twenty miles away, in the deep green gloom of the forest, unconscious +of the celebrations which were to be held in her honor, Leslie was +sitting in the tent that had been her home for over six weeks. + +To her the months since receiving Lebrassa’s letter had been a kind of +mental paralysis. Now an incident had occurred which made her realize +how close the dread future was. + +On the table beside her lay a letter, and a bunch of roses held +together by a thick, heavy bracelet of red-gold with diamonds +sparkling like stars on its surface--the first gift of the Sultan to +his bride. + +The flowers, bracelet and letter were lying there, untouched, half an +hour later when Hillman entered to tell the girl the last stage of her +journey was about to start. + +Wearily Leslie rose, to be assisted into the hammock that had borne +her daily for more than six weeks. + +With the approaching end of her journey had come the haunting fear +that Lebrassa might _not_ keep his side of the bargain. Even now the +man she had come to save might have been killed. It was hardly likely +the Hyena would let such a determined enemy as Captain Fletcher live +and go free. + +These facts passed through Leslie’s mind as she was jogged along in +the hammock. Assuming her lover were still alive, she was trying to +think out some way of saving him from the result of her own folly and +his enemy’s vengeance. + +There _was_ one way of making sure of Captain Fletcher’s safety. But +it meant such a long vista of horror for her--not the quick way of +death she had decided on. + +As the afternoon wore on, the forest grew less dense, and more +sunshine dribbled through the matted branches. A desire to meet her +fate standing seized Leslie. She raised herself on her elbow and +looked round for her guardian. + +The movement brought Hillman to her side. + +“What is it, Miss Graham?” he asked. + +“I’d like to walk the rest of the way.” + +The doctor looked at her in the manner he frequently had used since +their first meeting in Lisbon--as if wondering why his patron should +run such risks in order to get this white-faced wraith of a girl into +his possession. + +“You can hardly do that,” he answered. “We’ve still two miles to go.” + +“I want to walk. I can’t stay here any longer.” + +A voice that would be very powerful in Kallu had stated its desire. +The doctor helped Leslie from her litter. Then the procession started +again, following in the wake of the two. + +The girl had no idea how long she walked. + +She seemed hardly to have left the hammock when the path widened and +scattered blocks of masonry showed up. The trees grew farther and +farther apart and, between them, ruins loomed. She went on, wondering +why the sun was shining, why it was not all as black as her own +future. + +Presently the world became a brilliant flood of golden light, that +flashed on a long avenue of spears. + +She was aware the doctor left her just as the first two silent, black +warriors were reached. There seemed an endless double row of them, all +watching her, all black, all with rolling, blood-shot eyes. + +As she entered the arch of spears, the wild war-cry greeted her. + +With set, white face she went on, thinking the savage roar would +follow her into eternity, and emerged into a wide, open square. Marble +walls and a glittering gate formed one side, the other three were +living walls--an excited, eager crowd, all watching her, all shouting. + +The dazzling glare of tropical sunshine did not blind her to a man +coming toward her, bareheaded, the only person there in European +dress. + +Lebrassa halted beside her, gazing intently at her white, scornful +face. + +“May I say ‘Welcome to Kallu,’ little rose?” he asked with a touch of +pleading. + +There was no reply. + +A light breeze sighed through the forest, bringing with it the excited +whisper of thousands watching the meeting of their Sultan and his +bride. + +“Have you no word for me, little friend?” + +“I want to see--Captain Fletcher,” Leslie said in a breathless way. + +Evidently Lebrassa expected this. Putting a hand lightly on her +shoulder, he guided her across the square toward a point where mud and +palm leaf dwellings showed. Like a receding wave, the crowd swept back +as they approached. Beyond was a group of palm trees; beneath them a +two-roomed hut, around the door of which half a dozen savages mounted +guard. + +The sight of the sentries broke up some of the haze in which Leslie +was submerged. Their presence indicated that Captain Fletcher was not +dead as she had feared. She pulled her benumbed faculties together for +the great effort of saving him. + +She quickened her pace, heedless of the black figures closing up to +block the entrance, stopping only when she realized she could not pass +them and that they had no intention of moving. + +So far Lebrassa had given no signal for the guard to admit her. He +stood waiting for the request to come from her. This Leslie quickly +grasped, for she looked at him haughtily. Just then other matters than +the horror of himself were in her mind. + +“Tell them to move,” she said coldly. + +He made a gesture, nothing more than a slight movement of his hand, +and the way was cleared. For the first time the girl realized how +all-powerful he was. Also it gave her the feeling that a word of hers +could move him as easily as he had moved the barrier. The full extent +of the influence she had over him dawned on her, and she determined to +use all means within her power to save her countrymen. + +The sound of her sweet cool voice made the two men sitting within the +hut start up. Fletcher’s face, worn and haggard, was turned towards +the door, as he stood, bound and helpless, watching the entering +couple. + +To Leslie, as she crossed the hut, there was only one thing left in +the world--the man she loved. A man with a tired, hopeless face and +weary eyes. She went up to him, to stand holding his bound arms +tightly. + +“Why did you come, little one?” Fletcher asked hoarsely. “I’d hoped, +prayed, you wouldn’t.” + +There was no reply, but the clutch of the small hands on his arms +tightened. + +Vincent’s husky voice roused her to the fact of his existence. + +“You shouldn’t have come, Miss Graham, whatever that black brute +threatened.” + +Wistfully she smiled at him. He was a nice-looking youngster, so fresh +and fair and Anglo Saxon; no boy of his type would ever come into her +life again. She was glad he was there. Just then it was easier to talk +to a stranger than to Captain Fletcher. + +“If I hadn’t come, it would have made no difference. I should have +been here sooner or later, once he knew where I was.” + +Her brave strained voice brought a stifled groan to the youngster’s +lips, and the look of deadly pain in Fletcher’s eyes deepened. + +From outside came the excited hum of the crowd, an occasional jabber +from the sentries, with now and again the crude blast of a horn or the +beating of tom-toms, and, above all, the sleepy sigh of trees stirred +by the breeze of sunset. + +A black bar fell across the flood of golden light streaming in at the +doorway. Leslie shivered, as if with sudden cold. Her eyes left +Fletcher’s worn face and went to the mulatto. And there they stayed +with desperate, scornful gaze. + +“Mr. Lebrassa,” she said in a stiff, cold voice, “you promised me +these two lives if I came here, but I know you won’t keep your word. +Death is a quick way out of my troubles. Yet--if I know that Captain +Fletcher and Lieutenant Vincent really reach safety I… I’ll promise +not to kill myself in order to get away from you.” + +“Don’t bargain with him, darling,” Fletcher broke out hoarsely. “Don’t +bind yourself down to hell because of us.” + +At her words the least flicker of feeling crossed Lebrassa’s face. + +“I suppose you won’t believe me when I say I’ve no intention of +breaking our bargain,” he said. “What proof would satisfy you these +two officers really reach safety?” + +“If Captain Fletcher sends a letter back with a message I give him +now, privately, signed by himself and Lieutenant Vincent and the +officers of the outpost they reach.” + +Leslie spoke in a hard, forced way, as if the plan were one +desperation had forced on her. + +“Very well. I’ll give you three minutes alone,” Lebrassa answered. + +He turned to the youngster. + +“Come outside with me, Vincent,” he commanded. + +When the two left the hut, Leslie stood looking up at Fletcher with +eyes full of love. There was no need for disguise now, when the whole +world ended with his departure. + +The knowledge of her position and his own helplessness was beyond the +man’s strength. He dropped on to a bench, his haggard, distorted face +pressed against the rough mud wall, to hide from her the tears that +agony had brought to his eyes. + +Putting her arms about his neck, she drew his head on her shoulder, +trying to kiss away his pain. + +A movement outside made her arms tighten. + +“Kiss me just once, to show you don’t despise me,” she whispered. +“Then say, ‘Good night, dear, and--good-by.’ Will you put that in your +letter, ‘Good night and Good-by’?” + +A few minutes later a little procession--two Englishmen, with an +escort of negroes--set out into the forest. In the center of the +square Leslie stood, heedless of the man beside her, watching Fletcher +until he was lost in the shadows. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + “_My story is told as, long ago,_ + _My story was told to me._” + +To Leslie, as the little procession disappeared, came the feeling +that had assailed her when she had first landed in Calabar--that of +all known things gliding away from her. + +Presently, out of the world of unreality surrounding her, a voice +came. + +“Come, little rose, let me take you where you can rest and have tea.” + +In a dazed manner she looked up at Lebrassa. + +“You can’t stand here any longer,” he said gently. “You must come with +me now.” + +There was nothing else to do but obey. + +Like one numbed, she walked with him up to the gilded gates, and on +through a maze of flowers and trees until a building was reached. She +passed through an arch into a room--a room all white and green, with +marble floor and walls, and little fountains dripping into carved +shells filled with ferns. There were alcoves draped with glistening +gauze and heavy silver lamps hung from the ceiling. The place had no +windows, but all one side was columned arches around which roses +twined. + +Leslie noticed nothing of her surroundings. Lebrassa took her across +to one of the curtained alcoves, and held the silver gauze aside so +that she might pass through. She looked at his brown hand, so dark +against the curtain, wondering why it left no red stain on the +whiteness. + +Beyond was a door. This he opened. + +“You’ll find all you want in there, Leslie. Then you must come back to +me and have tea.” + +The place proved to be an ordinary bedroom which, but for the mosquito +net drawn round the bed, the marble floor and walls, and the fretted +arches screened with reed blinds, might have been any girl’s room in +far-away England. + +Taking off her hat, she sank down on one of the chairs and stayed +there, with hands clasped tightly on her knee. + +A knock roused her. A woman entered--a negress in a loose, blue cotton +smock, with big, gold hoops in her ears. + +Guessing the woman to be an emissary from her captor, Leslie rose, and +went through the shimmering draperies into the room beyond. + +Her entrance made Lebrassa, who was bending over a tea-table, look +around. + +“Sit down,” he said gently. + +She sank down on the nearest lounge. And there she stayed, watching +him hostilely. The thought of Captain Fletcher’s safety had lessened +her own burden of horror. + +Presently he came to her side, a cup of tea in one hand, in the other +a cake-stand with various dishes of assorted dainties. + +“Tea, Leslie,” he said. + +She took the cup he was offering. And then sat holding it, forgetting +it was there. + +How silent the room was! No sound but dripping water and this man’s +soft movements. She could quite understand Molly’s hell now! + +His voice broke into her thoughts. + +“Now, what would you like?” + +She looked, not at the array of dainties he was offering, but at the +swarthy face above them. + +“Nothing, thank you.” + +Her voice must have lashed him with its depths of scorn and aversion. +But no flicker of feeling came to his face. + +“Drink your tea then,” he said quietly. “Afterwards we’ll talk.” + +Turning away, he went to one of the arches leading out into a center +courtyard. There he lounged, his gaze fixed in an unseeing manner on +the beauty outside. + +He looked so thoroughly English as he stood there, his face half +turned away, his hands deep in his pockets, so that she could not see +their darkness, that again Leslie had the feeling of moving in some +ghastly nightmare. She could still hardly realize _he_ was the Hyena. +Mr. Lebrassa! A man she had once liked and been drawn to! + +The sound of her cup being put on a table, roused him. With a quick, +feverish movement he crossed to where she sat. There was a moment of +quivering silence as he stood with one hand on the back of her chair, +watching her hungrily. + +“I suppose your mind is made up to hate and despise me,” he said +tensely. + +“Do you expect me to do anything else?” she asked, in a cold, scornful +manner. + +“I expect a lot from you, Leslie. And, since you’ve driven me to it, +I’ll tell you why.” + +Then from Lebrassa’s lips came a flood of words, low, fierce and +passionate. + +“I’ve had the world’s scorn and contempt, Leslie, but I won’t have +yours. God knows I would not smirch the whiteness of my rose. I don’t +like to tell you what I’m about to tell you now. It’s no story for a +girl’s ears. But I want so much from you, and you will give me nothing +willingly. Not a grain of pity. Not a shred of toleration. Not a +shadow of the sympathy that was so sweet. Nothing but scorn, contempt +and aversion--what all your color have dealt out to me.” + +As if gathering his words together he stopped for a moment. + +“Do you think I should have become the brute I am without a reason?” +he asked. “Don’t you know me well enough to have asked yourself that +question? Have you never wondered why I took that letter?” + +There was no answer. + +“_Your_ signature on the envelope made me take it, Leslie. I’d been +looking for someone of that name for years. And I’ll tell you why. It +started forty-five years ago, with a man’s desire for travel and +romance. There were two brothers, orphans, sons of an English +nobleman, the last of an old family. The elder was twenty-five when +his father died, the other twenty-two. Even at that age the younger +one’s life had been so vicious that his father had disinherited him. +Yet his brother stood by him, paid off his debts and gave him a fresh +start in life. Then the elder one followed his own bent. He was by +nature an artist and a dreamer, a brave man who loved travel and +adventure, and the wild romance civilization cannot bring. Fate +brought him out to Africa, to the heart of the unknown. There was a +queen reigning there, in the corner of a ruined city, a girl barely +fifteen. She was the daughter of an African Sultan and his chief wife, +a negress with a dash of white blood in her. This young queen was a +girl of great beauty, resembling more her unknown white ancestors than +her negro parents. See, Leslie, here she is! Irena, Queen of Kallu, +Daughter of the Stars.” + +Lebrassa drew aside a curtain screening an alcove near. + +A life-size portrait was behind, a picture of a girl with a tawny, +yellow skin, who looked like a lovely purring tigress. But her great, +black eyes smiled out at the world, full of love and tenderness. + +The artist had been clever and realistic, for the stars flashing among +her wealth of black curls glittered with gold-dust put on before the +paint had dried. Golden armlets, strewn with golden stars, glistened +against her golden skin. A robe of purple gauze, like the darkest +night, draped her from shoulder to ankle, scarcely hiding the golden +sheen of herself. Stars held the sleeveless garment on her tawny +shoulders, and were strewn about its hem. On her softly rounded bosom +was a golden ornament, the shape of a hyena’s head, with lips curled +back on a vicious snarl over tiny white fangs, and green eyes that +leered diabolically. + +She stood, a daughter of Sultans, proudly smiling, a slim girl, like a +golden reed, draped in the garment of the night, with the crest of her +race on her bosom. + +The curtain dropped, and Lebrassa’s low, tense voice started again. + +“Her European ancestry was shown in more than her light skin and +unusual beauty. It was shown in her aversion to marry with any of the +negro chieftains from neighboring districts. And this Englishman was +brought to her, a prisoner found trespassing on her lands--the first +white man she had seen. She was a queen. The priests desired her +marriage. If her choice fell on this stranger, a man fair-skinned, +with hair that gleamed like her golden jewels, was it very surprising? +The surprise was not there, but on the other side. This Englishman, +her prisoner, grew to love her as few women are loved--this wild, +golden girl who had picked him for her consort, this daughter of +savage negro Sultans, Irena, Queen of Kallu. He was a man who honored +and respected women. He took her away, far beyond the bounds of the +corner where she ruled, and married her at a Protestant mission. She +was his legal wife as surely as if she had been an Englishwoman.” + +There was a brief pause. + +Dark shadows were creeping into the arched recesses of the room. +Lebrassa struck a tiny gong. Its mellow voice brought a soft-footed +servant who lighted the lamps and vanished as noiselessly as he had +appeared. Their glow gave a golden sheen to the purple of advancing +night, a purple that was rapidly growing deeper. + +“They came back to Kallu,” Lebrassa went on when the servant had +disappeared. “This little palace he had built from the ruins of a once +great city. And he lived here with his wife, teaching her, dreaming, +and painting. A time came when he was awakened. For something occurred +to the possibility of which I doubt if he had ever given a thought. A +third came into the little paradise he had made for himself and one +other. A problem confronted the dreamer: a problem he had created and +was responsible for. A son was born, heir alike to all that was his +father’s and his mother’s, to light and darkness, to civilization and +barbarism, to English culture and African savagery. But he was a just +man, and he determined his son should have every chance.” + +Lebrassa stopped for a moment, then he went on again, but in a quiet, +dreary way. + +“A little, a very little of my history I once told you, Leslie, so +pleased that you should wish to hear. I was a year old when my father +took me to England. He did not take me as his son, but under another +name, the one you know me by. Afterwards I kept it, because I couldn’t +prove my claim to a better. I was put into an English clergyman’s +family as a mulatto boy in whom he was interested, to be brought up in +the ways of civilization. I was five years old when I first remember +seeing the man I afterwards knew to be my father. Just when I was +beginning to realize I was not as the other children at the vicarage, +but a nigger. It was some time before I knew all that the word meant, +but I felt it was one of contempt.” + +He paused, as if hoping for some word from Leslie. Her gaze was on the +picture. The name “Irena” was familiar. It had been on the golden +armlet she had found among her father’s possessions. It had been on +his lips occasionally, when attacks of raving, which subsequent +knowledge of the world had told her were delirium tremens, had him in +their grip. Although she had no idea what Lebrassa’s confession was +leading up to, a feeling of dire disaster, outside of anything to do +with her being in his power, gradually was creeping over her. + +“I remember quite well how I felt when I reached the stage of reading +for myself and crept into the library to find out the meaning of the +word they threw at me in anger,” his voice continued. “The next time +it came from English lips, from a boy two years my senior, I fought +him and made him take his word back. I believe I would have killed +him, for I was a Sultan of Kallu even in those days, but the nurse +separated us. She called me ‘a little black devil’ and locked me in my +room for the rest of the day. A few weeks after this I first saw my +father--my guardian I thought he was. That episode was told him, +together with other instances of uncontrollable temper and childish +arrogance. The short time he stayed in England we spent together. He +explained to me the mixed blood in me. He said he wanted me to grow up +to be an Englishman. He said I must not let my savage instincts +conquer me. That I must learn to control myself, to prove myself +worthy to be called a white man. I knew he liked me, and I loved him. +After that God alone knows how I fought with myself to try to become +the man he wished. As I grew up I fought the white race, but in a +different manner, with my brains. And I always won. I was first in my +studies and in my games. But I still remained ‘that nigger.’ Jealousy +applied the term to me then. I made no friends at school. The boys I +would have liked to be friendly with avoided me. Those who would have +had me for their friend, I avoided. From Africa letters came +frequently, encouraging, helpful letters from the man I loved and was +striving to please.” + +Lebrassa’s voice trailed off into silence, to become one with the sigh +of the night wind drifting through the arches. + +“I only saw my father three times,” he continued, “the last when I was +about sixteen. I remember how elated I was on that occasion. I’d just +won a scholarship that would take me on to college. I was delighted to +tell my benefactor this, to know I should be no further expense to the +man who had done so much for me. I remember wondering why he laughed +when I told him, and how he told me he would give me a good allowance +in spite of my scholarship. And I knew he was pleased with me, my +success, my control over myself. For he told me I was a ‘white man,’ +and how glad he was that he had given me my chance. Then he gave me a +sealed letter, saying he could rely on my word of honor not to open it +until I was eighteen. I sometimes wonder why he did so. But afterwards +I learnt he had a weak heart, and he may have felt his doom was upon +him.” + +As if brooding on the long-dead past, Lebrassa paused again. + +“I went on to college,” he began. “But at the end of the second term +my allowance stopped. The firm of solicitors who forwarded the money +could tell me nothing except that my patron, Mr. Godfrey--the name I +knew him by--had not sent his usual remittance to them. My scholarship +kept me going. At the bottom of my box was a sealed letter, my most +cherished possession, to be opened when I was eighteen. I was very +honorable in those days, Leslie, too honorable to open that letter +after I had given my word. And you will hear now all that honor did +for me. Had I been less honorable there would have been no Hyena. I +should have been able to outwit my enemy.” + +Lebrassa stopped again, as if hoping for some comment from the girl. +But she said nothing. + +“I can’t make you understand what that letter was to me, Leslie. It +was a legacy from my lost friend who I felt must be dead. It kept me +silent and uncomplaining under the burden of gibes and insults your +color heaped upon me. Some of the fault may have been mine. At times I +forgot I was a ‘nigger’ and stated my ideas and opinions in a manner +my colleagues would not brook from a person they considered so much +their inferior.” + +There was another pause. + +From beyond the garden the flare of bonfires lit the sky, and sparks +flew out in golden showers drenching the soft purple of the night. The +wind sighed through the open arches, bringing the scent of roses and +the sound of distant merrymaking--of crowds rejoicing over their +Sultan’s happiness. + +Tense and low the mulatto’s voice came again, whispering and sighing +away into the depths of the silent room. + +“Then my eighteenth birthday came. And what that letter told me! It +was from a father to a son he was proud of, who he had once thought +might bring dishonor on an ancient name, but who had proved himself +worthy of his heritage. I was not Essel Lebrassa, the bastard son of +a negro woman as I had imagined myself to be, a waif, brought to +England out of charity by a man who desired to experiment. I was Essel +de Tourville, only and legal son of Richard, Earl of Alglenton, heir +to one of the oldest names in England. My existence was known only to +two English people, my father and his brother. There was a lot about +my mother in the letter, and it told me of my African heritage and +where it was situated. I did not want that. It was the English one I +craved, because it took the stigma from me. Shall I tell you of the +dreams I dreamt that night? Not dreams of self-advancement, but of all +I could do for the country I loved in spite of the insults it had +dealt out to me. I would be one of its peers, would have a voice in +its management, could do for it in its African possessions what no +other man could do, understanding so well both the black and white +sides of all the problems different colors bring, having both black +and white in me. They were a boy’s dreams, rudely shattered. The next +morning I was up in Town with the solicitor who had sent me notice of +the cessation of my allowance nearly two years before. I showed him my +letter. He laughed at me. Richard, Earl of Alglenton had died +unmarried and had been succeeded by his brother, the Honorable Lionel +de Tourville. My letter was a hoax. The invention of a madman. It +proved nothing. ‘Would the present peer, knowing the existence of his +brother’s son, have deprived him of his heritage?’ ‘Would the late +Earl of Alglenton have so far forgotten what was due to him as a peer +of England to have legally married a negro woman?’ These and other +questions he put to me, all the time laughing at me. I must produce my +mother’s marriage certificate, my own birth certificate, before I +could expect anyone to listen to a story as mad as mine.” + +By now Leslie was looking at Lebrassa in a strained way, her eyes +brought to his by the mention of the names “Richard” and “Alglenton.” + +“My faith in my letter was unshaken,” he went on. “I left the office +laughing at myself. In my excitement I had forgotten such things as +certificates were necessary. Then out of the whirl I was moving in, +came another thought. Why had my uncle sent me no news of my father’s +death? Why had he stepped so calmly into my place? I thought no evil +of my father’s brother, and I soon found an answer to my own +questions. It was my father’s wish that all facts should be kept from +me until my eighteenth birthday. My uncle had taken my place to avoid +explanations. I had yet to find out what manner of man I was dealing +with. I decided to go and see my uncle. I consulted a directory and +found my own town address. I found him in my own house. He was a +clever villain. My card was given to him and he had me admitted. I +recognized him at once by his likeness to the Mr. Godfrey I’d known. I +did not expect him to claim me kin until he had seen my father’s +letter. I said why I’d come and brought out my letter. He took it in a +strangely quiet way. I know now that he had no idea I had it. It was +some evidence. Experts could prove that the handwritings of Mr. +Godfrey and Richard, Earl of Alglenton, were identical, the work of +the same man. I was not expecting treachery. I judged him by my +father. I had to learn they were very different. He left me, crossed +to the fire and stood there reading my letter. Then, Leslie, before I +knew what was happening, he had burnt it! Burnt my letter!” + +As if the agony of that moment were still upon him, Lebrassa paused. + +“Then he turned on me in mockery, asking me what I meant by bringing +such a lunatic’s tale to him. He denied all knowledge of my existence, +of my father’s marriage; of all my letter contained. I was +dumbfounded. Too late I realized the villain I was dealing with. I +knew it was his intention to defraud me, to keep my heritage from me. +Although he had burnt my letter, I knew its contents by heart. In it +had been given cursory information as to the whereabouts of my +mother’s country. But it was enough for me. I determined to go there, +get my certificates and again confront him. During the few days I +remained in England I learnt more of my father and uncle. How my +father had died suddenly of heart disease two days after I’d last seen +him, just as he was about to start out to Africa. No one but my uncle +knew what took him there. Society had long since ceased to talk about +him, dubbing him an eccentric man who preferred the wilds to England. +My uncle spent the year following his brother’s death abroad, before +launching himself as the Earl of Alglenton. I was soon to know how his +time had been spent.” + +There was a brief pause. Leslie’s gaze was still on Lebrassa, in a +fixed, anxious manner, as if she dreaded what he might say next. + +“God knows, little rose, I wouldn’t tell you this,” he went on in a +strained way, “but I want your love and sympathy. It is my right and +due as surely as was the Earldom of Alglenton.” + +He laid his hand on her shoulder, looking down at her hungrily. She +did not shrink from his touch. She did not even know his hand was upon +her. She sat just waiting, petrified, at the knowledge of some +unknown, ghastly horror that was sweeping toward her. + +“Within a few days I left England for Africa,” he continued a moment +later. “It was months before I reached Kallu, longing for my unknown +mother, to lay my head on her knee and tell her how they had served +me. And what do you think I found? A tribe of maddened savages. Ten +thousand tongues clamoring for the blood of a white man, the murderer +of their queen. No certificates were needed to satisfy them who I was. +My word was enough. There were those among my mother’s people who +could speak English, taught them by my father. From them I learnt the +rest of the story. Two years before, a second white man had found his +way to Kallu. He called himself an emissary from England, sent by the +queen’s consort to ask her for certain papers she held, that her +husband needed to prove the identity of their only child. My mother +took him into the temple where she kept these treasures of hers in a +golden casket on the altar of her heathen ancestors. What happened in +there no one knew. Whether my mother suddenly suspected him of +treachery and refused to give them into his keeping, I don’t know. She +was a savage in spite of everything. Some of the instinct civilization +stifles may have come to her, telling her not to part with the papers +that gave her son his English heritage.” + +Once more Lebrassa paused, as if he saw that slim, golden girl, his +mother, alone in the Temple of the Night, standing by an ancient +altar, with her treasured papers pressed against her heart, wondering +if she dared give them into the keeping of the man who said he was a +messenger from the white husband she adored, and whose lightest word +to her was law. + +“That stranger left the temple alone,” he continued. “Nothing was +thought of it. The Queen Irena often stayed there to muse among the +forgotten gods of her ancestors. Hours passed and she still did not +appear. Then the priests entered. They found her dead, strangled on +the altar, and the casket empty.” + +The wind took up Lebrassa’s words, and they seemed to die away like a +sob in the far corners of the great room. + +“From one of the men my father had taken with him, I learnt the +whereabouts of the Mission where my parents had been married. I went +there, thinking I might prove something. I was too late again. I might +have known that villain would leave me nothing. The man who had +married them was long since dead. But there were people about the +place who remembered the marriage of an Englishman with a yellow girl +of great beauty. They searched all the books for a record of the +event. A book was found where the record should have been. But--the +page containing the entry was missing! I asked if any stray white man +had been there during the last two years. There had been several, and +one answered to my uncle’s description. I was the Sultan of Kallu. +This heritage brought me riches far surpassing my English one, if not +the honor. I went back to England, to my uncle, accusing him of +treachery. I swore I would have his life in exchange for my mother’s +unless he gave me my due. He laughed at me. In my rage I would have +killed him there and then, had not the servants stopped me. The next +year I spent in an English prison, and narrowly escaped being shut up +for life as a criminal lunatic. Twenty-two years ago England was +ringing with the story of a ‘nigger’ who imagined himself to be an +English earl. Then I went mad. I forgot civilization altogether. In an +English prison was born a man now called the Hyena.” + +Lebrassa’s hand left Leslie’s shoulder. He moved a few steps away, to +a curtain screening another alcove. + +“I went back to Kallu,” he continued. “I took up every rite and +ceremony of my negro ancestors. On the altar of my heathen forefathers +I swore to have the life of the man who had defrauded me. Not only +his, but all who sprang from him. Revenge on the whole white race for +the sneers, insults, and the final degradation they had put upon me. +Then my uncle learnt that I meant what I said. And he dared not remain +in public life. So very soon England was ringing with another +story--the mysterious disappearance of the Earl of Alglenton, his +countess and infant son. For fourteen years my servants hunted him, +and in the end I caught him. But he died of pneumonia a week later. +His death left me rabid, for it seemed he had robbed me of everything, +even vengeance. Yet, presently, I was glad I had not killed him. Madly +I searched for his son, to make him pay the penalty his father had +escaped. It was not until many years later I heard his son had died in +infancy but there was--a daughter. Who was he, Leslie, this man who +stole all from me when I was a boy?” + +With a quick, passionate gesture Lebrassa drew the curtain screening +the alcove. It showed a portrait of an Englishman of about thirty, in +light, tropical garb, tall and fair and with gray eyes. + +In a dazed way Leslie looked at the picture. In spite of the +difference twenty years would make, only too well she knew of whom it +reminded her. + +“That is my father, Leslie, Richard, Earl of Alglenton. _Your_ +father’s brother.” + +It had broken over her at last, that great wave of blood and blackness +and treachery that had been rapidly rising. Broken over her and +swamped her completely. + +There were a dozen things to confirm Lebrassa’s statements. Her lack +of knowledge as to who and what she really was. The wandering life her +father had led. His mysterious disappearance. His dislike of Africa, +where he said he had never been, yet his own ravings proved to the +contrary, and the names of Richard, Irena, Alglenton and Kallu had +always been on his tongue when drink had him firmly within its grip. +The armlet she had found among his possessions, similar to the ones +the pictured girl wore. + +Leslie had loved her father; he was the only relative life had given +her. For all that, as she grew older she had realized he had been a +wastrel, that his ways had not been those of an upright and honorable +man. + +Through the black cloud that seemed to choke her, Lebrassa’s voice +came. + +“And then your letter came into my hands, with the name of the son of +my enemy. And I saw _you_, heard you speaking in my defense. I had to +learn you were my cousin, my one white relative. You came to my room, +and I found out the truth. You stayed talking to me, treating me just +as if I were a white man. I went back to Africa, intending to keep my +oath. I schemed to get you to Kallu. I meant to make you pay for your +father’s crimes. Yet, when I saw you again, my only desire was to turn +you away from the trap I had laid. I had no chance against you. I +couldn’t hate you, much as I tried. I could only love you, Leslie. If +I were the man I might once have been I wouldn’t have forced you to +come to me now, knowing you had nothing but hatred for me. I’ve been a +savage too long. Too long the Sultan of Kallu. But I could be so +patient, if patience would win me a little toleration, a little liking +perhaps. God knows I’m a brute, steeped in every vice and crime, not +fit to touch you. Yet, little rose, is the blame all mine? If I went +back to savagery, who drove me?” + +Leslie’s hands had gone to her face, as if to shut out the picture of +vile treachery he had put before her. + +“I didn’t know. I’d no idea,” she moaned. + +That heart-broken wail made him touch her gently. + +“I know you hadn’t, darling,” he whispered. “It’s just a ghastly mess, +no more your fault than mine. The sins of the fathers that we have to +pay for.” + +There was no response. Instead came the sound of stifled sobbing. + +Her tears made him drop on his knees beside her, whispering words of +consolation. + +“You mustn’t cry, little cousin. It’s no fault of yours. I can forgive +everything if only you’ll try to love me, touch me willingly again. +He’s not my enemy now. He’s the father of my rose. The sweetness he +created can do more than ease my pain. I was a brute to tell you. But +I couldn’t stand your hatred. Don’t cry, little cousin, dearest, +don’t. I can’t bear it.” + +The broken-hearted sobs went on, but a small, shaking, white hand came +trembling on to Lebrassa’s head. At its touch, he buried his face on +Leslie’s knee, and knelt there with his arms around her. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + + “_In lieu of flowers from your fair land--_ + _Take wild growths of dreamland or starland._” + +The early morning breeze came whispering through the shady little +courtyard that lay in the midst of the palace. It brought a shower of +white petals fluttering down in the golden sunshine, mingling with the +silver rain of fountains. Some fell like snowflakes on a shady stone +seat where Leslie was sitting. + +She had been a week in Kallu, and with each passing day she seemed to +grow smaller, whiter and more wraith-like. + +The girl had taken the burden of her father’s sins upon herself. A way +of compensation had been shown to her, and she had accepted it, +although the weight was crushing all life out of her. In another +week’s time she was going to marry her cousin according to heathen +rites. Then he was taking her over the border, to a secluded Mission, +where they would be united in the European manner. + +Now Leslie had no desire to return to civilization. Her father’s sins +had cut her off from all her own color. The white world was no place +for her, the daughter of a man guilty of depths of treachery she once +would have deemed impossible. She was branded--as much an outcast and +pariah as the big, strange cousin whose crimes her father was morally +responsible for. + +The sound of some one coming through one of the horseshoe arches +roused her. Now she knew that footfall very well. And it made her look +round with a smile, pathetic in its wistfulness. + +Lebrassa crossed to her side. He noticed her forced air of welcome. +And he noticed also that daily the girl grew thinner. She was visibly +wasting away, and only too well he knew the reason. Half-kneeling on +the seat beside her, he drew a branch of orange blossom down until it +touched her head. + +Every morning brought Leslie some gift from her cousin, the Sultan. +His presents varied considerably, from heavy, barbaric jewels, rich +and rare and gaudy, to a tiny specimen of a deer, so small that it had +been sent in a foot-square hamper, so tame that it now lay at her +feet. + +His dark, tainted eyes were quick to see this morsel of life found +more favor in her sight than all the costly jewels he heaped upon her. + +That morning, with her early breakfast, had come a tiny cage, not more +than four inches square, made of fine gold wire and studded with gems. +In it was a mite of a bird, little bigger than a bumble bee, +bright-eyed and very much alive. + +On seeing it, for the first time since reaching Kallu, Leslie had +laughed. It was such an absurd morsel, such a complete cage with +feeding troughs, perches and a swing, everything a bird needed. And +the servant who had brought the present had glided silently away to +tell his royal master how much the gift had pleased. + +As Leslie had sipped her coffee, talking to her new pet, pinhead, +beady eyes had watched her, as if trying to explain that, in spite of +its minuteness, it was a bird, and there was one thing the golden, +jeweled cage lacked. It had chirped so loudly about its missing +privilege that, the moment breakfast was over, she had taken the cage +out into the courtyard. Now it stood empty on the seat beside her. + +This Lebrassa noticed the moment his gaze came from his cousin’s face. + +“Why, you’ve let it go!” he exclaimed. “And I was told you liked it.” + +She laid a thin, apologetic hand on his sleeve. + +“I’m sorry, Essel, but it didn’t like being shut up, so I had to let +it out.” + +His given name on her lips always brought a look of pleasure to his +face. But on this occasion the look had died away by the time her +sentence was finished. + +Moving the tiny cage, he seated himself beside her, and stayed there +in thoughtful silence. + +“You’re making me very much the son of my father, Leslie,” he +volunteered presently. “When you’re about I seem to have no connection +with the savages on my mother’s side.” + +She glanced at him, wondering what he was leading up to. + +His gaze, however, was on the empty, golden cage. + +“If I said you needn’t marry me and sent you back to England, do you +think you’d get quite well and happy again?” + +“I’d much rather stay here--now.” + +He realized that the fact of her father’s crimes made her wish to +avoid all people of her own color. + +“I was a brute to tell you,” he said in a voice choked with feeling. +“I was a fool not to have known it would crush the life out of you.” + +Leslie said nothing. + +A light wind breathed through the garden, bringing the scent of roses, +the cooing of doves, and the ceaseless drip of fountains. + +“Then it isn’t just the thought of me and all I wish that makes you +look so tired and worn?” he asked anxiously. + +“I’m only too glad to be able to make some return.” + +He got to his feet, watching her tenderly. Then he took one of her +listless hands into his, holding it carefully. + +“You’re just a rose, Leslie, and crushing brings out all your +sweetness. Do try and think of me only as my father’s son. Try not to +dwell on my mother’s side,” he begged. + +“I never think of you now except as my cousin,” she answered. “I know +you would have been very different but for--my father,” she finished, +in a voice that trembled. + +He raised her hand to his lips. + +“Why did I ever tell you?” he cried, his voice full of pain. + +Kissing her hand he turned quickly away, and disappeared through one +of the arches. + +Leslie spent a long, listless morning, then lunch-time came--a +solitary meal set in the coolest corner of the marble room. It was +followed by a silent afternoon, hot and breathless, when everything, +even the insects, seemed to sleep. + +Sometimes Leslie wondered where her cousin was. She never saw him +except for a few minutes in the morning and again in the evening when, +with the cool of approaching sunset, he came to take her for a walk. + +When the rising night wind woke up the sleeping trees, Lebrassa’s step +roused Leslie as she sat reading on the terrace of the marble room. + +“Are you ready?” he asked. + +With a weary air, she picked up and pulled on a large hat lying on a +chair near. As she walked by his side she saw nothing unless it was +pointed out to her. A cloud of black and red had risen between her and +earth’s beauties, shutting out the world, leaving her alone with a man +who was her cousin, yet half a negro. + +She watched him as he leant over a bed of violets gathering a bunch +for her. Blacker than her father’s crimes loomed her own future. She +felt crushed between the two, with no escape from either. + +“Let me pin them on, darling?” he asked as he straightened himself. + +“Why not, if you wish to,” she answered, smiling wistfully at him. + +Then she watched his brown fingers that looked so dark against her +white frock. So dark that only with an effort could she keep herself +from shivering. Just then, when he was so close, the negro in him +seemed so terrible, more insurmountable than all the crimes of his own +doing. + +Leaving the garden they passed through the village, and on into the +cool depths of the forest. The night shadows were lengthening, and the +relics of the forgotten city stood like white ghosts in the green +gloom. + +Leslie went on, thinking of Captain Fletcher, knowing her father’s +infamy shut her out from all such as he. + +Lebrassa’s voice broke the silence that had enveloped them since +entering the forest. + +“Who knows, Leslie,” he began, his gaze on the ancient ruins, “perhaps +the black people were the first on earth. There was darkness before +light, and night before day. We know there have been civilizations +which time has buried. Perhaps the Sphinx itself is a monument of a +past negro civilization, for it has a very negroid cast of features. +The negroes may not be what the world thinks, a race just getting +light from the whites, but the descendants of an ancient civilization, +now forgotten. Perhaps, if one only knew it, it’s not such a disgrace +to be a nigger.” + +Leslie listened, not minding what subject he talked on now, so long as +it was not love. + +“Are you the last of your race?” she asked. + +“There’s you, little cousin.” + +“I meant----” + +Abruptly she stopped. + +Her remark and pause brought a dreary smile to his lips. It told him +just what he was in her estimation. + +“You mean my mother’s race? I’ve two cousins, children of my mother’s +younger sister. Is that the only side you can see of me? I want to be +all white with you, yet you can only see the nigger. You’re very sweet +to me now, but I know it’s only to pay a debt. Don’t think I don’t +know it. And appreciate it, too. I’m thankful for so little where I’d +once dared to hope for so much.” + +In silence the walk continued. And away in the forest, a prowling +hyena laughed, loud and long and with wild mockery. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + + “_Both by land and sea we have travell’d far._” + +Mhaki, the high-priest, squatted among the ruins of a forgotten city +watching the night shadows gather. He sat with his back against a +marble block, listening to the sounds drifting through the night. + +There was one that always left him alert--a single howl of hyena’s +laughter. + +He watched the shadows gather till the darkness shut out everything, +and brought a life all its own--a whispering, rustling, creeping, +stealthy life that preyed one on the other. Every noise that drifted +through the bush he noted. Presently a sudden cessation of all sounds +made his old eyes go sharply to a track just ahead of him. + +It was one of those silences that fall upon all smaller forest life +when a common enemy is abroad. The high-priest listened, knowing it +meant either the presence of man or some big beast of prey, and his +hand grasped a spear lying just in front of him. + +Then came a sound that made him start up quickly. + +About three hundred yards away, along the one lone trail that led to +Kallu, came a long-drawn howl, a solitary hyena’s cry. There was a +moment’s pause, then two howls came, from Mhaki’s lips this time. +Three answered him. The repetition made his gnarled old hands lose +their grip of things, and his spear fell to the ground. + +It was Nanza’s signal. The truth had come to Kallu at last! And +Nanza’s return said his worst fears were verified. + +Presently a dark figure loomed up. + +With trembling knees the old priest went to meet him. + +“Hail, Nanza,” he said, “what message do you bring? Yet your return +spells the Sultan Essel’s treachery.” + +“I bring proof to all Bhessu said,” Nanza answered. “And, Mhaki, night +whispers to me that the Star is in Kallu. It should please my cousin +to see the daughter of his mother’s murderer sacrificed on the altar +her father defiled.” + +“How do you know the Star is here?” + +“Night whispered it,” Nanza answered. “But this is no time for gossip. +In some safe spot, let me show you the proofs I’ve brought.” + +Mhaki drew out a soiled cloth and tied it over his visitor’s eyes. +Then he led him towards the wilderness of creepers and shattered +masonry. + +After they had gone some distance Nanza was told to stoop and crawl. +When the bandage was removed, he found himself in what appeared to be +an underground cellar. + +Mhaki produced a wooden lever from a corner and inserted it into a +crevice between the flags forming the floor. + +“There are many ways into the Temple of Night, but this is known only +to me and the Sultan,” he grunted, as a two-foot square stone heaved +up in response to his efforts. + +Beneath was a narrow spiral stairway, twisting down a funnel-like hole +until it was lost in darkness. + +Taking a lamp from a niche near, Mhaki started down. The winding stair +led to a heavy wooden door. This the high-priest opened. + +The feeble light showed a fair-sized cave with curious signs and +symbols on the rugged walls. A spring gurgled up in one corner; close +by was a slit in the solid rock, wide enough for a man to walk +through, that led on to darkness again. + +A lounge, a table and a case of books showed up in one corner. + +There Mhaki went, placing his battered lamp on the table. + +“This is the Chamber of Musing,” he volunteered. “It lies just behind +the Throne of Night.” + +He paused and pointed to the slit. + +“That leads to the temple, but the secret of its entrance is known +only to the reigning sultan and the high-priest. Now, Nanza, the +proofs. And if your story is false, you will stay here until death +finds you. For no one knows the way that leads to and from this room +except the Sultan Essel and myself.” + +Nanza smiled. + +“I, at least, am no traitor,” he said proudly. “Here are the proofs, +white man’s proofs with seals and documents and signatures as you +requested.” + +From his loin cloth he drew a flat packet and laid it on the table. + +With shaking fingers Mhaki opened it. + +“How did you come by all these?” he asked, as several photographs and +a bulky sealed letter came to light. + +“As you advised, I went to Calabar. There I made friends with people +who had been friends of Bhessu’s, Cooper, that is, and the white woman +who was his wife. He had talked much about her. I learnt where they +had met and what her name was from a man to whom he had given a +photograph, taken the day they were married. I heard all that was +said, and afterwards, when darkness fell, I returned by stealth to the +house of this great talker and took that picture. Then on to England. +From friends I made during the voyage I learnt the manner of tracing +people among the whites. I was told there were those in London who +lived by finding out all concerning others. To such I went. Gold did +the rest. There, signed and sealed, untouched by me since I left their +office, is what they found. It proves the woman who was Cooper’s wife +to be no murderer’s child. She was the daughter of a man who served in +a store where cloth was sold. The niece of another who to this day +bakes bread for the city. And he bears witness to all that is written +here. There is a picture, too, that I bought from him.” + +From the papers, Nanza drew out a portrait of two girls, with dark and +fair heads together. + +“That,” he said, pointing to Leslie, “is the child of that foul +murderer. Not this one, as the Sultan Essel would have us believe,” +Nanza went on, putting a black finger on Molly’s pictured face. +“Because none of us in Kallu, but you, had any white man’s learning, +he thought we were easy to dupe. Here is what the people of London +told me. Write to them if you wish. I’m content to stay here until you +have proved my words to be true.” + +Mhaki opened the sealed letter. + +Messrs. Speyer and Speyer, private detectives of London, would have +been very surprised had they known that the mass of information a +wealthy colored client had desired them to find concerning a certain +Molly Seaton, married about two years before at a Liverpool registry +office to a negro named Horten Cooper, whom she had met in a Harrogate +hotel, would be opened in the inner chamber of a heathen temple, some +five hundred miles up-country in West Africa. + +Tracing Molly had proved a simple task. From Harrogate they had +followed her history backwards, through the years of her clerkship in +London to a childhood spent in Islington where her father had been a +cashier in a big drapery store. It described her minutely at every +stage of her career. There were copies of her birth certificate, dated +twenty-nine years before, and of her marriage certificate. The letter +told how Molly Seaton had found a child called Leslie Graham, supposed +to have been deserted in London, about eight years before, and how the +two had lived together to within a few months of Molly’s marriage. It +proved beyond doubt that the Molly Seaton born in Islington +twenty-nine years ago was the same Molly Seaton who had married a +negro called Horten Cooper in Liverpool twenty-seven years later. + +For more than two hours Mhaki pored over it all. He read and re-read +the letter and studied the photographs. Yet, in spite of everything, +his faithful old heart wanted more proof before condemning the son of +his beloved Irena. + +“I would have more proof,” he said at length. “The condemning of a +Sultan of Kallu is no light matter. There may be some flaw that even +these people have not grasped. I must have more proof before I lay +these papers before the other priests.” + +Evilly Nanza smiled, the smile of one who holds the ace of trumps up +his sleeve. + +“I’ve proof beyond all this. Proof that will satisfy even you. And I +found it for myself. I made friends with that uncle who bakes bread, +and I paid him well to tell me all he knew about these two women. He +had a box containing goods belonging to his niece and her friend. And +I went through it carefully. I found there a picture of two faces both +of which Kallu knows.” + +From his loin cloth Nanza drew out a thin, oblong packet, wrapped in +oil silk. This he opened and handed to the high-priest. + +“Who are these two?” he asked. + +Speechless Mhaki looked at the picture. + +It was a photograph of a man of about fifty-five, with a handsome, +dissipated face. Standing by his side was a little girl of perhaps +eleven, who smiled out at the world in a frank, friendly way. The +first Mhaki knew at a glance. He was the stranger who had come to +Kallu and murdered the Queen Irena. On the second his eyes lingered. +Big, dark eyes looked back at him with fearless innocence. In spite of +the difference between the child of eleven and the grown-up woman, he +knew who it was. The girl the Sultan proposed to marry! + +There was no room for further doubt. It was proof direct. The Sultan +Essel had lied! + +The old man got up suddenly, the gleam of the fanatic in his eyes. + +“Hail, Nanza! There has been a law these twenty years in Kallu, one of +the Sultan Essel’s making: ‘Death to all traitors.’” + +With savage satisfaction Nanza laughed. + +“I thought that would satisfy you,” he said. + +“I want no further proof. I see here the murderer with his child. I +must have time to convince the priesthood of the truth of all you have +brought. The Sultan is Lord of Doomana, and none will believe his +treachery readily. I have a plan. Give me time. It’s for your sake I +ask. Did those beyond know of your presence here you would be slain +before I could save you. We must work stealthily. First I must +convince the priests of the Sultan’s treachery. If they are satisfied +we will wait. Then, on the night of his marriage, when all the tribe +are gathered together to witness it, we will accuse him as he stands +with her, on the Throne of Night, desiring to make her Queen of +Kallu--this offspring of the accursed one, this daughter of his +mother’s murderer! There will be no escape for him or her. First he +shall see her die. Then we will deal with him.” + +Mhaki swept together all the correspondence. Then, blowing out the +light, he seized his companion’s arm and led him on into darkness. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII + + “_A horror of outer darkness._” + +A vast hall of darkness, so great that it seemed to have no end; a +place blacker than the deepest night, with no glint of light or life. +Yet life was there, for out of the gloomy depths came the buzz of a +multitude, eager and suppressed, now nothing more than a sighing +breath, again a loud excited whisper that rose and echoed away until +space swallowed it up. + +The sighing breath took an upward rush, resounding through the +darkness like the thunder of surf, to die away again in whispering, +waiting silence. + +A speck of light appeared, a pin-prick in the vast gloom. Gradually it +came closer, and halted, shining high above everything. + +The light showed a girl with a tired, white face, clad in a robe of +purple gauze that swathed her with the billowy softness of a cloud. +Her bare arms and shoulders were loaded with barbaric jewels--a +rainbow mass of glittering color, looking almost too heavy for her to +carry. + +Her appearance made a wild shout come up from beneath. + +“Hail, Star, Bride of the Night. All darkness gives you welcome.” + +Leslie had no idea what was said, only a roar of savage sound came +from the depths her strained eyes were trying to fathom. + +The noise died away, to be followed by a silence so still that it +seemed to whisper. + +Then from a long way off a voice spoke in cultured English. + +“Come, dearest, there’s nothing to fear.” + +Leslie came of a race that died fighting. Although the voice left her +cold and shivering, it reminded her that a debt had to be paid. + +She stepped forward into the gloom. Each step brought frantic, +hysterical courage; a determination to wipe off, if possible, her +father’s infamy; to give this big, strange cousin all he wanted; never +to let him know the depths of her aversion. + +She reached the bottom of the long flight of rude stone steps. The +lantern she carried showed nothing but empty space, and from beyond +came the murmur of thousands. + +She went forward. Other steps appeared, leading upwards. When she +reached the top of these, out of the gloom some one leant towards her, +whispering to her not to be afraid. + +As the two met, suddenly a thousand torches flared up at all points of +the vast underground hall, and a minute later a hundred bonfires burst +into life. + +Leslie gazed around. It was darkness no longer, but yellow curling +mist and smoke and flames. The flare revealed great arches stretching +away on either side, until they looped out into a gigantic circle. In +each a bonfire danced, lighting the enclosed ring, but accentuating +the gloom beyond. There was an inner circle of men, five deep, with +spears and shields, all holding torches--men with scarred black faces +and fang-like teeth. In front of these again were shadowy figures +draped from head to foot in black, with nothing but their rolling eyes +to tell they were alive. + +Behind them was a sea of faces, all black, all watching her, +stretching away until they became nothing more than gleaming eyes. + +Leslie’s gaze came back from the countless wild faces to her immediate +surroundings. + +She was standing on a square block of black rock. Close behind loomed +what appeared to be a great night cloud spreading away until it was +lost in the shadows. At the first glance it was nothing more than a +cloud, cunningly represented by some sculptor of forgotten ages. As +she gazed, out of the billowy mass form came. It held her fascinated. +It was not a cloud banked up behind the place where she was standing, +but a great shape, neither God, nor beast, nor devil, yet all three so +blended that they were lost in one. A fearsome Thing, yet strangely +human. + +She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at it once more. It was +a cloud again, slowly taking shape as she gazed. Its face was bestial, +devilish and divine, with eyes that glowed dully in the firelight. +Eyes, which, on first inspection, appeared to be two stars peeping out +from the night. Some long-dead artist’s conception of the darkness +from which all life sprang. + +Her eyes left the cloud and went back to Lebrassa. There they stayed, +frightened and fascinated. + +He was clad in a long, straight, black gown, his massive bare arms +flashing with golden armlets. A worn circlet of gold, with strange +signs and symbols, was on his crisp, wavy hair. The sight sent a chill +through her. There was so little of the Englishman left. So much of +the savage, negro Sultan. + +His voice broke in on her thoughts. + +“You mustn’t watch that beast, darling, or he’ll gather you into +everlasting darkness.” + +His voice brought back the knowledge of his English side, and her own +determination. + +“But it isn’t quite a beast. One way it looks almost god-like.” + +“I’ve watched it for days on end, and seen nothing but the beast and +devil.” + +“Perhaps you haven’t looked at it in the right way.” + +“Or with the right eyes, little rose.” + +“What is it?” she asked. + +“Doomana, the shadow of all things. The darkness from which all earth +sprang, according to the legend of my mother’s people. A lowering mass +of evil that has brooded over this temple since time past all memory. +That gathered me into its clutches more than twenty years ago.” + +Gently she touched his arm. At that moment the knowledge of her debt +loomed large before her. + +The light touch brought him bending over her, anxious and eager. + +“Little cousin, if I’d come to you clean-handed, my father’s son, not +the Sultan of Kallu, could you have overlooked the black if there had +been no red of my own making?” + +Bravely she answered, with no hint of the ice that seemed to freeze +her heart and stop its beating. + +“There would have been no red, Essel dear, but for my father.” + +The endearment, the first that had passed her lips, brought a smile +that took all the lines of cruelty from his mouth. He drew her arm +through his, where it stayed, cold, but unresisting. + +Leslie stood, staring straight in front of her, until a burst of wild +music brought her mind back to earth again. + +A procession was winding its way through the gloom beyond the arches, +all wearing straight black gowns. Leslie guessed them to be priests. +There were perhaps fifty of them, headed by an old man carrying a tray +of carved ebony on which reposed a wreath of golden stars, a crown +similar to the one worn by the girl-queen, Irena. + +From the shadow a voice chanted some old, weird melody, wild and +haunting. Now and again, thousands answered it in a chorus that was +deafening. + +As Leslie watched the approaching procession of priests, it seemed to +her they looked at her in anything but a friendly manner--almost as if +they hated her. Quite different from the way the black soldiers used +to look at her when she went with her cousin among his people. She +glanced up at him, wondering if he had noticed it. But he had eyes for +her and nothing else. + +“What is it, dearest?” he asked, when their eyes met. + +“I shall be glad when it’s all over.” + +“It will soon come to an end,” he whispered. + +Leslie wondered whether it would be a month, a year, or whether old +age would come before the debt was settled and a welcome death claimed +her. + +At the foot of the steps leading to the rocky throne where she and +Lebrassa stood, the procession halted. Silence fell on the multitude. +A silence broken only by the crackle of the flames as the assembly +stood waiting for the high-priest to begin the ceremony. + +Then Mhaki’s voice came. + +“Hail, Essel, Sultan of Kallu. Lord of Doomana. Ruler of the Night. +Heir of all Darkness. Hail, Star, Bride of the Night, set to shine +high on the Throne of Night, a gift from the Sultan to his people.” + +Leslie was aware that her cousin drew her in front of him, holding her +close against him. + +Over her head his voice came thundering. + +“Hail, all Kallu. A Star has risen to shine in the Heart of Darkness.” + +Next came Mhaki’s voice. + +Mounting half-way up the steps, he stood facing the crowd, holding on +high the glittering crown. + +“See, all Kallu! What is set above the night, as night is set above +the earth?” + +“The stars. And a star was sent to earth to wed with the one who first +ruled in Kallu, in the shadow of the Night, as Lord of Doomana. And to +his heirs, forever, a star. Our Sultan has chosen, and we would see +him crown her.” + +Question and answer came like the repetition of some old formula. + +The high-priest’s voice again wailed through the temple. + +“The Sultan has chosen, and we would see him crown her.” + +There was a touch of menace in Mhaki’s voice that made one or two of +the dusky warriors glance at him sharply. But Lebrassa had eyes and +ears only for the girl within his arms. + +As the high-priest mounted higher, to bow before the Sultan and the +Star of his choice, holding the crown on its ebony salver, there was a +stir among the shrouded figures of the priests forming the circle +immediately in front of the warriors. + +When Lebrassa took the crown and placed it on Leslie’s head, a sort of +sigh passed through them, like an indrawn, hissing breath. Then it +died away, and all eyes were fixed on him as he stood proudly smiling +over her small head where golden stars now glittered. Over the murmur +of the seething crowd, above the crackle and roar of the bonfires, his +voice came, loud, arrogant, and all-commanding. + +“Is there no greeting for my Queen?” + +Ten thousand voices answered him. + +“We are star-worshipers, we spawn of the night. In Kallu there is +always welcome for such as she.” + +As the volume of sound died away, from one corner came a solitary +burst of hyena’s laughter. Ten thousand took up the wild war cry. The +great hall trembled as the roar thundered through it. Long after +Lebrassa’s hand was raised for silence the sound came echoing up from +the darkness, to die away in a feeble, jeering laugh and a final +sobbing sigh. + +There was silence again, a silence that hissed and whispered. + +Then, once more, the high-priest spoke: + +“In Kallu there is always welcome for such as she. Red welcome.” + +It did not need the added phrase to bring Lebrassa’s eyes from Leslie +to the black face watching him in fanatical hatred. The menace of the +voice had reached him before the clause of Mhaki’s own adding. + +Before he had time to say or do anything, almost before the words had +left the high-priest’s lips, a hundred voices bellowed: + +“Traitor!” + +The word was one that raised all the wild beast in the Kalluians. Who +and what the traitor was no one knew, save fifty priests and the same +number of probationers attached to the temple. The word had come. It +raised the blood-lust of a crowd already excited almost beyond bounds. +A savage roar went up, demanding the name of the traitor, and his +death for daring to desecrate the Sultan’s nuptials with his presence. + +The mass surged up to Lebrassa as he stood with surprise, savage anger +and a glint of uneasiness on his face. + +They stopped at the foot of the throne, not aware the one they sought +was there, demanding that the Sultan should deliver this traitor into +their hands. Their sudden onward rush swallowed up the priests, who +went through the seething crowd whispering, insinuating, hinting. + +No name was said, only one sentence. + +“The daughter of the murderer is here.” + +In the writhing mist and smoke and darkness no one knew where the +words came from. They were whispered from the shadows, murmured out of +the blackness, echoed through the vaulted arches. From mouth to mouth +the words went. + +There were men among the soldiers who remembered an argument between +the Sultan and his cousin, Nanza, more than eighteen months before, in +a hut near Calabar, five hundred miles away: an argument concerning +the identity of two white women. They numbered only twenty-eight of +the warriors, but what they said was listened to and repeated again +and again, till ten thousand heard it. + +In less than a quarter of an hour what had been an orderly crowd was a +wild pandemonium. Question and answer were hurled out of the mist and +smoke and shadows. + +Then an ominous lull fell on the surging mass. The wild shouts died +down to thick, hoarse growls. All eyes were turned on Lebrassa. His +voice came thundering through the vast hall. + +“By all darkness! What madness has seized you?” + +He stood a picture of unbridled savagery and arrogance, enraged beyond +measure, conscious of Leslie’s heart thumping in wild terror beneath +his hand. He realized that some inkling of who she really was had +reached Kallu. He never doubted but what he could quell the riot. But +he did not know the extent and completeness of the evidence against +him. + +As yet no one had set foot on the Throne of Night. Lebrassa’s voice +and attitude held those immediately beneath in check. + +Over the growl of the multitude Mhaki’s voice answered, coming from +the crowd just below. + +“What madness has seized _you_, Essel, Sultan of Kallu, that you would +set the daughter of your mother’s murderer on the Throne of Night? A +gift of the Sultan to his people. A gift you promised full twenty +years ago. But a gift of vengeance, of blood, an offering to Doomana. +Not a star to shine as Queen of Kallu. There is a law which says, +‘Death to all traitors.’” + +No savage roar greeted the word now. The growl died away to a +whispering hiss. The multitude stood with strained ears, awaiting +their Sultan’s defense. + +“What madness has seized you in your dotage, Mhaki, that you accuse +_me_, your Sultan, of black treachery? Death to you that you should +dare to foul the name of the Star now shining over Kallu. Say, dogs, +do you stand quiet and hear your leader called a traitor? By Mhaki +who, with his own eyes, saw the daughter of the murderer die. Shot by +Cooper, her husband.” + +Lebrassa’s appeal to the soldiers had its effect. A roar greeted him. +With a wild rush the warriors swept toward the high-priest, who stood +surrounded by his supporters. It was just as well Mhaki had retired +beyond his master’s reach. After his accusations he had backed down +the steps of the throne and a surge of his friends and followers had +swallowed him up. Had he remained within the Sultan’s reach the royal +hand might have choked him. + +Until order was restored, Lebrassa dared not leave the high rock where +he was standing. He did not know what the mob might do to Leslie if +she were left alone. He did not think about his own danger. As once +before all his wits were concentrated on saving the girl he held +pressed close against him in fierce protection. He thought he could +keep the surging mass immediately beneath in check until the soldiers +cleared a way so that he could get her out of the temple and in some +place of safety. Then he would return and pacify the mob. + +As he watched, the oncoming soldiers wavered, hesitated, came on +uncertainly and then stopped altogether. + +Lebrassa had reckoned without the women who had been gathered in the +shadows beyond the lights. Chaos had brought them out among the men. A +fortnight of wild revelry had preceded the Sultan’s marriage. This had +given the hearts of the dusky warriors very much into the keeping of +their womenfolk. Black hands could cling and hinder and make their +power felt just as easily as white ones on men who were husbands, +sweethearts and would-be lovers. The women clustering around the +soldiers had fathers and brothers among the priests, and they had no +wish to see their relatives killed. They clung to the arms of the +soldiers, pleading and imploring, whispering that what Mhaki said +might be true, that love plays havoc with the hearts of men, and the +Sultan was but human, begging them to talk matters out quietly, to +have no bloodshed. And all the time the priests were talking, +whispering no longer, but declaring plainly that Nanza had returned +and had brought proof beyond all doubt of the Sultan Essel’s +treachery. + +The soldiers’ halt left Lebrassa aghast. Through the babel of sound +separate voices reached him. He heard how the news had come to Kallu +and who had brought it, and he realized how poor was his chance of +quelling the riot. + +There was but one way of saving Leslie. + +He glanced round calculatingly, knowing he could keep the mob in check +for a few moments, sufficiently long to carry out the plan of escape +that had come to him. + +But first he desired a personal interview with Mhaki--to get within +touch of the high-priest and silence that worthy for ever. But before +doing this, he wanted to have Leslie where she could not see him act +according to the instincts of his savage ancestors. + +He was a picture of sultanic fury as he stood thundering for the +silence he was gradually obtaining. + +Over the mad babel his voice was heard at last. + +“Who is the cur that heads this rabble? Let him come forward and prove +his statements. If what he says is true, then I have been deceived +about this girl I would make my wife.” + +At his words a listening silence fell on the horde. To Mhaki’s face +there came an expression of relief. But Nanza, disguised as one of the +shrouded temple probationers, shrank back into the shadows. + +Breathless silence reigned as the Sultan’s defense went on. + +“Mhaki saw the murderer’s daughter die. A woman who told me her father +was the man who slew Irena. And I thought then that she did not know +who I was. But if what Mhaki says is true, then she knew me, what my +motive was, and misled me purposely. For the woman whom I thought to +be the daughter of that foul murderer was smitten with a disease that +made her days numbered. Moreover, she had a friend whom she loved +beyond all else--the Star I would have set to shine over Kallu. If the +news my cousin Nanza has brought is true, then the woman who is dead +deceived me purposely, hoping to save her friend. If it can be proved +that Bhessu’s wife was not the child of the murderer, but it is her +friend whose blood is wanted, she who is with me now as my bride, say, +all Kallu, would there be anything but hatred in my heart, and a +desire to deal with her as her father dealt with my mother? I, also, +would know the truth. If all Mhaki says is fair and just, proof past +all doubting, no plot of his and Nanza’s, then there will be no love +in my heart for the Star, but hatred. And I will give her over to you +to do with as you please, and say I am a fool, I, the Sultan of Kallu, +to be so deceived by a woman.” + +The explanation sent the crowd surging over to Lebrassa’s side. + +Even the high-priest’s fanatical old heart was eased. The son of his +beloved Irena was no traitor after all! But a man deluded by a woman, +ensnared by the beauty of another as is ever the lot of man, not +knowing who and what she really was. + +Lebrassa watched the effect of his words on the crowd surging beneath +the rock where he stood alone with the girl he was endeavoring to +save. As he watched he made a gradual backward movement toward the +brooding shape that loomed behind him, so slowly that in the +flickering shadows it was hardly noticeable. + +Just as Mhaki reached the foot of the steps the mulatto touched some +point in the carved mass behind him, at the same time assuming a stiff +unnatural position as though both feet and one elbow were working for +some desired effect. There was a heavy stealthy noise as of a great +stone moving. Leslie felt herself being lowered with quick haste and a +voice whispered: + +“Have no fear, little cousin, go straight on and I’ll join you.” + +By then the unsuspecting priest had reached the top of the steps. The +mulatto sprang forward, seized him in the grip of a madman, swung him +on high, then dashed him with all his giant strength down against the +black rock. + +The roar of ten thousand wild beasts greeted this action. But Mhaki +lay quite still, his sharp old brains bespattered about the Throne of +Night, the only person, besides Lebrassa, who knew how to open the +entrance to the Chamber of Musing, or who knew where, in the forest, +was the door of the secret way leading from it. + +Lebrassa turned to join Leslie, his idea being to take her on through +the passage, and out into the forest, trusting to his own great +strength, skill, cunning and savage lore to make his way through the +wilderness until he reached what would be a place of safety for her, +the first British outpost more than two hundred miles away. + +As he turned to open the rock again, which had swung to the moment his +hand left it, Nanza drew a revolver from beneath his cloak and fired +wildly. + +One shot reached home. Just as Lebrassa was about to move the rock +again and join Leslie in her temporary refuge, he reeled and fell, +lamed by a bullet through his ankle. He was up again almost at once, +but just too late. Before he could reach sanctuary fifty hands seized +him and dragged him down as he fought with the strength of Samson and +the fury of a mad elephant. + +In spite of everything there was a small orderly section in the mob. +The hands holding Lebrassa were mostly priestly ones; the probationers +formed a circle around him, keeping off the herd bellowing for his +life. + +Over the pandemonium Nanza’s voice came thundering. The fact of his +presence sent a further howl echoing through the vast hall--a howl of +welcome. A call for silence went round. Gradually the wild babel died +down and his voice was heard. + +“Hail, all Kallu. The truth has come, and with it the death of a +Sultan. My cousin would have us think he knew not that the Star was +the daughter of Irena’s murderer. Are we fools to be beguiled by such +a tale? If what he said was true, why did he hide the girl, and then +kill the high-priest, Mhaki? He lied to you and killed Mhaki in order +to save himself and her, for only he and Mhaki knew that beyond lies a +secret passage leading to the heart of the forest. And only he and +Mhaki knew the secret that moves the stone. Does not all this prove +that he knew who and what the girl was, and that it was his intention +to defraud you of the blood that is your due?” + +This speech resulted in a further dash to reach Lebrassa who now lay, +bound and helpless, surrounded by a guard sufficiently strong to keep +the rabble at bay. + +Over their fury Nanza’s voice came again. + +“You would give him an easy death,” he cried. “Not one worthy of +Kallu. Let me ask him if he is willing to give the Star back into our +keeping, and we will deal with him according to his answer.” + +Nanza turned to his prostrate cousin. + +“Tell me, Essel, the secret that moves Doomana, that I may enter and +bring back the Star to shine over Kallu. A gift from the Sultan to his +people.” + +There was no reply. + +The mulatto’s eyes blazed back at his tormentor as he writhed in a +giant effort to burst his bonds and reach the one responsible for his +capture. He was in an agony of helplessness at the thought of Leslie +alone in the rock chamber, yet he knew that death by slow starvation +would be preferable to the one this mob would deal out to her if she +fell into their hands. + +“See, he will tell me nothing,” Nanza cried. “What shall we do? Shall +we persuade him?” + +There was order now, the order of a multitude all of one mind. + +The throne was cleared of all except Nanza, half a dozen priests and +the prisoner. Wild figures rushed round the circle, mending and poking +fires the happenings of the last hour had allowed to smolder +unattended. There must be light--light to show what was about to +happen. + +The fires blazed up on a mass of figures, all squatted on their +haunches, with the lurid light playing on their black, shining skins +and eyes that had an inward red gleam fixed on the square rock, high +above, where another fire gleamed. + +Through the waiting hall Nanza’s voice came, full of savagery and +hate. + +“Tell us, my cousin, how to reach the Star set to shine over Kallu? We +would have her in our midst, this Light from the Skies.” + +There was a long pause, but no reply. + +The question came again, but it still met with no answer. + +At a gesture from Nanza, one of the priests drew a red hot bar of iron +from the fire. + +A moment later there was a faint hissing sound, and with it came the +smell of live flesh scorching. This was followed by a laugh, loud, +arrogant and defiant. Nanza’s voice came again. + +“Come, Essel, son of my mother’s sister. Give us the Star. We are +anxious to welcome our Queen.” + +Again there was no response. And again there came that sickly, +scorching smell. + +Another laugh followed, but it died away in a stifled groan. + +A crowd sat and watched, but there was no laughter now, only the smell +of scorching flesh and a sort of suppressed panting. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + + “_My king, to the last put trust in me._” + +The Sultan Nanza was holding audience in the market-square. Three +days had passed since the deposing of his cousin. Down in the great +underground temple Lebrassa lay, recovering from the effects of that +night’s work. During the time that had gone by since that evening, +parties of soldiers had scoured the forest looking for the entrance to +the passage down which Mhaki had taken Nanza, but no trace of it could +be found. + +In the market-place Nanza stood, his ambition attained at last. For +now he was the Sultan of Kallu, no longer his cousin’s understudy and +deputy, and he was talking loudly of all that was going to happen now +he had the management of affairs. + +A sudden stir and shouting on the outskirts of the village, took the +attention of his audience. A woman had just emerged from a forest +track, a tall, handsome negress of travel-stained appearance--a woman +once very well known in the place. + +On seeing his sister the new sultan stood in open-mouthed +astonishment. Heedless of the questions and greetings showered on her, +Yoni came on and threw herself at her brother’s feet. + +“Hail, Nanza,” she cried breathlessly. “You see my words of long ago +were true. The Sultan Essel had deceived us. That traitor who took me +from my country and then cast me off with mockery and scorn. Give me +vengeance. Let me see him die. Don’t tell me you have already killed +him.” + +Savagely Nanza laughed. + +“No traitor dies in three days,” he said. In a suspicious manner his +eyes remained on his sister. “How is it you’re here only a few days +after me?” he added. + +“I followed you, purposely, hoping that if you found favor in the +sight of our cousin you would plead with him for me. A week ago I +reached a village, and there one whispered to me the news you had +brought from England, of the Sultan Essel’s treachery, of a Star that +was no Star. I ask no greater boon than to see him as he lies in +agony, that in his hour of suffering I may mock at him as he once +mocked at me. Grant this, O Nanza, my brother and Sultan, to a woman +full of hate and suffering.” + +As she talked, suspicion died from his eyes, and her final sentence +brought a tigerish smile to his lips. + +“Our cousin lies in the temple. A free show to all, and a warning to +those who would be traitors.” + +Yoni rose to her feet. + +The crowd’s gaze was upon her. They all noted her blazing, fanatical +eyes and air of savage hate. She was another who had no love for the +deposed Sultan! + +This was the opinion of the priests some ten minutes later when Yoni +halted at the head of the passage leading down to the temple, in her +brother’s name, demanding admittance. + +She passed through and went on to the head of the long flight of +steps. + +In the darkness below a fire gleamed. The light showed a man lying on +a rude native couch. Beside him squatted a score of priests. + +Lebrassa’s face was very English now. Pain had drawn his features; +they had lost their heavy look, but his eyes still showed the negro +taint that nothing could take away. + +As the priests half-dozed on the throne by the royal prisoner, a wild +voice from the back made them look round sharply. A woman was bearing +down on them, with arms uplifted, wild-eyed, and face distorted with +hate and passion. + +In front of the priestly barrier she paused, glaring at the man they +were guarding, shrieking out a volume of abuse. The flood of +vituperation brought Lebrassa’s attention to her. + +He watched her, surprised that his treachery to Kallu should have +roused her hatred, when the breaking off of the life they had once led +together had failed to do so. + +“And you too, Yoni,” he said presently, with a dreary smile. + +Her voice died down to a long-drawn, hissing breath and a splutter +after speech, yet through it words reached Lebrassa that made his +scorched hands clench. What seemed to the priests nothing more than +the frantic gurgle of a woman choked with anger, reached him in the +dialect of Calabar: a language unknown to any one there except himself +and Yoni. + +“My lord knows his slave is faithful,” he heard her say. + +Yoni raised her voice again, raving, shouting and vituperating, down +to a gurgling, breathless splutter. + +“I came to give warning, but too late. To save my lord I would give my +life,” reached Lebrassa. + +She made a mad rush at the priests standing between her and the couch, +as if to get at the deposed sultan and work her will upon him. They +held her back, as she fought them wildly, their attention being +temporarily removed from the prisoner. But through her struggles +Yoni’s ears were strained for any word that might come from Lebrassa. + +“More than life lies beyond the Shadow of Doomana, Yoni,” he was +saying. “You cannot save me, but save the Star, and my death will be +happy in spite of the tortures they deal out to me.” + +Again her voice was raised in a storm of wild abuse, to die away in a +sob of fury and frantic gasps. Between them came protestations that +her desire was to save _him_, not the girl who had brought him to his +end. + +There was a further struggle between the priests and the distraught +woman endeavoring to reach the prisoner. Sobs of fury came, and +through them Yoni spluttered: + +“I am but a slave to obey. A trance will come over me. I will fall +here and none will dare touch me. Pretend to sleep, then mutter all +you wish.” + +Suddenly she stopped her wild struggles. She stood, stiff and frothing +at the mouth. Then like a log she fell unconscious not two yards from +where Lebrassa lay. + +The priests gazed at her with awe. In past days she had been one of +their kind, a priestess of the temple, but she had been expelled +through love of the man she now hated. They sat round, watching her +with interest, waiting until she came back to consciousness, wondering +what she would say. For they thought her trance an audience with the +gods. + +On the couch the prisoner dozed uneasily, muttering whilst he slept. + +A sudden howl from Yoni startled the priests. She staggered to her +feet, swaying weakly, staring unseeingly into darkness. All waited to +hear the words the gods had put into her mouth during the hour or so +she had been with them. + +“I am Yoni, Keeper of the Stars. Night gives me many eyes and I see. +There is one coming whose arrival brings the darkness and the dawn.” + +Long after she had vanished, swallowed up in the depths of the temple, +the priests sat and talked over the meaning of the message. + +But Lebrassa lay gazing patiently into darkness. To him the words +needed no interpreting. + +For Leslie’s sake he had betrayed Kallu. He had told Yoni to go to +Tuata, to bring up Captain Fletcher and a relieving force. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX + + “_The blackness of darkness._” + +As the great mass of rock swung back into position Leslie stood for +a few moments conscious of a queer, dizzy feeling, glad of the +quietness after the wild uproar she had left, wondering what had +caused it. Then she went on in the darkness, groping her way along the +rocky wall. An abrupt turn in the passage showed a faint light ahead. +She went forward quickly, to find herself in a cave, faintly lighted +by a lamp set on a table in one corner of it. + +She glanced around. It was a large, high vault with a little spring +oozing from a crevice at her feet, and another opening opposite the +one by which she had entered, blocked by a heavy wooden door. The cave +was empty but for the one corner whence the light came, which was +fitted up as a chamber. There lay a suit of white drill. In that +secret room behind the throne of rock, barely half an hour before, +Lebrassa had put on the barbaric robes for the heathen wedding +ceremony. + +Crossing to the lounge, Leslie seated herself there, watching the +passage by which she had entered, thinking it all part of the wild +rites that made her her cousin’s wife, almost sick with dread at the +thought of the man who soon would be coming along the passage, in +terror not noticing how the time was passing. + +The splutter of the dying lamp roused her. Fear of one darkness made +her forget the other. Getting up quickly, she went to the slit, and +stood there listening for some sound of her cousin’s coming. She heard +nothing except the faint lapping of the spring. In an excess of terror +and loneliness she crossed swiftly to the door, very conscious of the +wild, moving shapes the lamp cast, thinking he might be coming that +way. But, much as she tried, it was beyond her strength to open it. + +Fearing the light would die away before she reached it, she ran back +to the table and stood watching the flickering lamp. It gave a final +upward flare of long flames, smoke and sparks, then died down to a +glowing, smoldering wick. Breathlessly she watched the point of red. +Then it faded, leaving her alone in utter darkness. + +How long she stood with her eyes on the spot where it had been, she +did not know. But it was until her legs gave way beneath her. Then she +sank down on the lounge, and stayed there trying to hear something +besides the gurgle of the spring. + +Presently she got to her feet, her only desire now to reach the way by +which she had entered. + +On finding the slit she went up it blindly, with outstretched arms, +until the solid rock stopped her. + +“Essel! Essel!” she called wildly. “Don’t leave me here all alone.” + +A sense of being buried alive seized her. With desperate hands she +beat on the unresisting rock. Dull echoes answered. + +She stopped, waiting until the gruesome sounds died away. Then she +crept back to the lounge, trying to realize what it all meant and why +her cousin had not come as he had said. + +Then, presently, out of sheer fatigue, she slept. + +She awoke with a stiff, cramped feeling, wondering where she was and +why it was so dark. With a sudden flood came the recollection of all +that had happened before sleep brought oblivion. + +Louder than the gurgle of the spring, came her own heart-beats. A long +shudder ran through her as she realized something must have happened +or her cousin would not have left her so long in darkness. A wild wish +to scream aloud, to make some human sound come out of the blackness, +seized her. With an effort she repressed the feeling, conscious only +of the chill, sickly fear that had her in its grip. + +Then she rose and went groping for the passage, stumbling over rocks, +heedless of the pool she splashed into, her only desire to reach the +way by which she had entered. Then she threw herself face downwards on +the ground in an effort to shut out the all-enveloping darkness. + +There followed a vista of constant terrifying night. + +Then forgetfulness came again. From this she awoke, dazed and +blinding, in unaccustomed light that made her eyes ache. + +A black face was bending over her, a woman’s face, vaguely familiar, +watching her in an anxious but unfriendly manner. + +“Have you come to fetch me?” Leslie asked feebly. + +Yoni made no reply. She knew what the girl said. During the months the +negress had spent trading on the steamers she had picked up a +smattering of English. Turning toward the table, she began unwrapping +the voluminous blue cloth that swathed her, bringing to light a number +of parcels tied on to her person. They proved to be a quantity of hard +biscuits, plantains, oranges and nuts, a bundle of candles and a +couple of boxes of matches--supplies such as any native woman in an +up-country African village would have bought for household stores. + +In a dazed manner Leslie watched the silent woman, wondering if she +were dreaming. She hardly dared speak lest this apparition should fade +and leave her in total blackness again. + +“Where’s Mr. Lebrassa?” she ventured at length. + +The name brought Yoni’s eyes to her--black, suffering eyes full of +hate and jealousy. + +“He say you lib for here tree week,” she answered in broken English. + +Her reply left Leslie aghast. + +“But I can’t. I can’t stay here any longer. I shall go mad,” Leslie +cried hysterically. + +“He say you mus’ lib for here till Cap’en Fletcher come.” + +Leslie stared back at her, too weak to grasp the meaning of what was +said. + +“Tell Mr. Lebrassa I can’t stay here. Why doesn’t he come?” she +finished wildly. + +“He no can come. He say I mus’ no say why.” + +With the feeling of some nightmare on her, Leslie watched the silent +figure that stolidly continued unpacking the parcels. + +All at once Yoni faced the girl, looking at her in a wild, jealous +way. + +“He say I no mus’ say. But I say. He tink only ob you. You--who hab +lose him everyting.” + +There came a flood of wild words in broken English. As Leslie +deciphered their meaning, it left her frozen. + +They told of all Lebrassa was suffering, and for what reason; of the +weeks of agony that lay before him; of how Yoni had reached him; of +the secret of the whereabouts of the forest entrance to the rocky +chamber which he had entrusted into her keeping; of the provisions she +was to bring before starting to Tuata, over two hundred miles away to +bring up the British force which meant Leslie’s rescue and the +downfall of Kallu. + +“An’ I hate you, you white gel!” Yoni’s frantic, sobbing voice +finished. “An’ I kill you, but dat I no can sabe him, an’ he wan’ see +you ’fore he die.” + +Petrified Leslie listened. The hopeless tragedy was more than she +could bear. Just as surely as her father had stolen her cousin’s +English birthright, so she, unwittingly, had deprived him of his +African heritage and brought him to this ghastly end. All the aversion +and dread she had felt were lost in a flood of pity, so great that it +was almost love. + +She got up, looking with desperate eyes at Yoni’s dark, distorted +face. + +“Take me to Mr. Lebrassa at once,” she commanded. + +The negress stopped sobbing and gazed at her with curiosity. + +“You no lub him, an’ you wan’ go an’ sabe him?” + +“I won’t have him tortured because of me.” + +Yoni pushed her back on the lounge. + +“No good now. Dey kill him all same. An’ you, de one he wan’ sabe. He +say you write note to Cap’en Fletcher, so dat white mans see I say +true.” + +Yoni plunged into a big calico pocket that was tied round her waist +and produced a stump of lead pencil. With trembling fingers Leslie +took it and looked round for something to write on. + +The candle Yoni had fixed on the table by means of a drop of grease +showed a strange picture. A big, gloomy cavern full of groping +shadows, and, in one corner of it, a worn, white girl sat scribbling a +frantic message on a piece of soiled paper that had been round one of +the packages. The light flashed on slim, gem-laden fingers that wrote +with desperate pleading, begging her distant countryman to come and +save a man whose head had had a price on it for the last seventeen +years; it played on the rainbow mass of jewels gleaming on her slender +bare arms and shoulders, and on the golden stars strewn about the +gauzy, billowing robe she wore. The light showed, too, a black woman +standing half-naked, silent as a statue, her coarse blue cloth +trailing on the ground, with eyes full of jealousy, hatred and +suffering fixed on the frail, ethereal beauty beside her. + +When the note was finished Leslie rose, determined to make another +effort to save Lebrassa from further suffering. + +“You must let me out. Perhaps they won’t torture him if they have me.” + +Savagely Yoni laughed, in a way strangely reminiscent of her brother. + +“If dat sabe him, you no be here now. I tell hem fetch you so soon I +know how get here. I take you now, but I know it hurt de Sultan more +see you hurt dan all dey hurt him. Dere is only to do what he say. You +here. He dere--hoping dat de white mans come ’fore he die, an’ he know +you safe. It all you--you--you!” + +Dazed and stunned Leslie stood conscious of the truth of all Yoni +said, aghast at her own helplessness. There was nothing to do but +wait, knowing a man was being tortured to death on her account. The +fact left her sick and shivering. And above all was the knowledge that +her cousin had tried to keep this last horror from her. + +In an ecstasy of pity and helplessness she touched Yoni’s arm. + +“Is there nothing I can do?” she asked. + +Roughly the negress shook off that small, anxious, white hand. + +“You can do what he say. No more.” + +Yoni took the candle from the table and made for the wooden door by +which she had entered, and started wrestling with the catch. + +Leslie followed her. In what the woman had said, the girl had +forgotten her own weeks of imprisonment and dire loneliness. + +“Why do you do so much for the Sultan?” she asked. + +For a moment Yoni ceased her struggles with the door. Turning, she +scanned Leslie from head to foot, a glance that showed all the hatred +she felt for the one responsible for her god’s suffering and downfall. + +“For de reason he do so much for you.” + +Then she turned her back on Leslie and re-attacked the door. Presently +it gave way under her efforts. Without a word she went out, banging it +behind her almost before Leslie had realized what was happening. + +She flew to the door, trying to reach Yoni, still hoping that if she +gave herself up her cousin’s torments might cease, but as she got +there she heard a heavy bar slipped into position. She pulled and +banged at the door, but her efforts brought no response from the woman +outside. + +Presently, worn out with her three days of starvation, she groped her +way back to the table and felt round for candle and matches. + +There were only a dozen candles and these would have to last her for +three weeks at least. But although light was so precious, she could +not sit in darkness alone with her thoughts. + + + + + CHAPTER XXX + + “_Though the gifts of the light in the end are curses,_ + _Yet bides the gift of the darkness--sleep!_” + +All day long war drums had been sending their wild tattoo echoing +through the forest. Savage figures flitted to and fro among the ruins +of ancient Kallu. War-palaver was being held in the market-square, +attended by an array of warriors, blood-stained and bandaged, hardly +one of them whole. + +Kallu was learning that the Sultan Nanza was not the leader the Sultan +Essel had been. + +Away in the forest, now not more than thirty miles distant, a thin +line of khaki and black, led by a trio of Englishmen, was pushing its +way onwards, and no effort of the Kalluians could dislodge or turn it +from its course. + +When the first news of the coming expedition had been brought, Kallu +had set out, a thousand strong, to annihilate the hurried advancing +towards them. There had been attacks by day and by night, every one a +failure. There were ambushes set, but every hiding place on the route +appeared to be known to the advancing force, and the Kalluians found +themselves attacked by a foe they had hoped to surprise. + +A sullen crowd scowled at Nanza as he stood arranging the next move. +There was no getting away from the fact that they were beaten, and the +fall of Kallu was only a matter of a few hours. The warriors had lost +faith in their leader. He was brave, but courage was of little use +when machine guns came into play, and his skill in warfare was crude +negro cunning; he had none of the finesse and strategy his cousin had +inherited from a long line of English ancestors, most of them famous +soldiers. In the Sultan Essel’s day they had fought in many parts of +West Africa, and their portion of the campaign had been always +successful. Now, to be defeated, routed day after day, by a force only +a fraction of their original number, took the heart out of them, and +left them with no desire to meet the advancing foe face to face. + +More than three weeks had passed since Yoni had started down to Tuata. + +The news she had brought, and the frantic note from Leslie delivered +with it, had resulted in the whole garrison being sent up, for +Fletcher knew enough of the Hyena’s following to guess they would +prove no easy foe, even when deprived of their half-caste leader. + +Always when the expedition halted for its few hours’ nightly rest, +Fletcher would bring out Leslie’s imploring letter. In it was no +mention of that brief moment of exquisite agony when her small, white +face had been so close to his and her soft lips had tried to kiss the +pain out of his eyes. Nothing of the confession of love that tragic +parting had brought. It was a wild cry, begging him to come and save +the man he had been trying to catch for years. + +And it left him with the feeling that had assailed him once before, at +the Harrogate hotel, on the occasion of his first round with Lebrassa +over Leslie, when the mulatto had succeeded in converting his dinner +invitation into consideration for her only. Now, in his end, ghastly +as it was, the same thought and consideration were there, and the +volume of it appeared to have driven from Leslie’s mind the knowledge +of all else. + +The wild, imploring note was in Fletcher’s hand, as he sat camped only +ten miles from Kallu, wondering what the morrow would show him; +whether Lebrassa would have withstood the tortures put upon him and +kept the secret of Leslie’s hiding place, or whether he would have +come too late to do more than stamp out this nest of hornets. + +The blackness of night was growing faintly red when the little British +force started on the last ten miles of its journey. The sun was up +long before the first glimpse of the ruins came into view. The piles +of masonry and tangled curtains of creeper offered excellent cover for +the enemy. Every moment Fletcher expected an attack, not knowing Kallu +had struck its last blow. + +The little column marched on, and came out into the blaze of sunshine +flooding the market-square. Everything there was quiet and peaceful; +thin spirals of faint, gray smoke curled up from fires outside the mud +huts clinging to the palace walls. Around them stood a crowd of women +and children, sullen and resentful, watching the intruders. But there +was no sign of a man of fighting age. + +Fletcher knew what had happened--reverses had taken the heart out of +Kallu. He had seen these evacuations before, in several expeditions +against rebellious tribes, when the tide had gone against them. + +However, he was taking no risks. + +In spite of his desire to reach Leslie, and Yoni dragging at his arm +and imploring him to come at once to the temple, he made a survey of +the place to satisfy himself its peaceful attitude was no trap. At the +head of the tunnel leading down to the temple he posted half his men. +Then, with a supply of torches, he took the remaining half in with +him. + +The long, dark corridor he and his party traversed sounded strangely +silent and deserted; only the booming echo of the steady tramp of feet +came out of the darkness confronting them. The array of torches showed +rock walls covered with signs and symbols beyond the knowledge of the +present age--the work of some night-worshipers who lived when the +world was dim. + +Fletcher had no eyes for these. At the head of his men he marched +along, wondering what the unknown beyond would show him. + +Presently a flight of steps was reached, leading down to even darker +depths of silence. No glimmer of light came from it, no sound. + +For a moment he stood staring into the pit. It seemed as if he had +come too late; that this great black void had swallowed up everything. + +Yoni’s hand, pulling his sleeve in desperate, anxious haste, roused +him. + +The party descended into the inky well. The torches showed only +further darkness. They marched on until the columns of a great arch +loomed up in the feeble light. + +A cry from Yoni brought Fletcher’s gaze to something lying at the foot +of the wide stone steps leading up to the Throne. Something that had +once been a man. Now a mass of festering sores and stumps, forgotten +in the fighting that had taken his torturers from Kallu, left alone in +darkness to die. Something once so strong that even death had been +conquered by it, for the great bare chest, scarred and burnt till the +ribs showed through, still moved with a flicker of life. + +With a wail of agony Yoni sank beside Lebrassa. + +Fletcher knelt beside his old enemy, marveling that a man could endure +so much and still be alive. Opening his flask, he coaxed a draught of +weak whiskey and water between Lebrassa’s parched lips. Tortured eyes +opened, then closed again as if the light were too much for them; +opened again, and rested unbelievingly on the Englishman’s face. + +“Why, Fletcher!” came out in a faint gasp. + +Fletcher had no love for the man he was tending. There had been a time +when he had thought the worst death earth could inflict would be too +good for him. But now his end had come, the cause that had brought him +to it seemed to have wiped away the mass of villainy at his door. + +The idea made Fletcher do the most difficult, and perhaps the most +noble, deed of his life. + +“Miss Graham wrote to me, asking me to come and save you. There was no +thought of anything but you in her letter--you and what you were +suffering on her account.” + +His words made a shadow of the old arrogance cross Lebrassa’s face. + +“That woman must have told her. I wanted to keep it from her.” Then he +laughed, a laugh pathetic in its feebleness. “Leslie asked _you_ to +save _me_!” + +Lebrassa’s eyes closed weakly. Then he spoke again, in a querulous, +hopeless, wandering way. + +“Take me out of this black hell. I want light and whiteness and +roses.” + +Fletcher’s next draught brought his wandering mind back to the +present. His eyes opened and rested on his captor’s face in an +anxious, pleading manner. + +“Those devils have left me no sight for a girl’s eyes. I’d like to +look something like a man in case she should want to see me.” + +Even now, in spite of all he had endured for Leslie’s sake, there was +the anxious doubt that the return of her own sort and color might take +her thoughts from him and bring back all the old antipathy. + +Despite his desire to reach Leslie, the wistful pleading in that +faint, tortured voice made Fletcher comply with the request before +going further. Turning to a _Hausa_ sergeant, he gave an order for an +impromptu stretcher to be made. Whilst Lebrassa was being lifted +carefully on it, he scribbled a note to the doctor of the expedition, +telling him to do his best for the dying man. + +When this was done, in a feeble, gasping voice Lebrassa told him the +secret that opened the Shadow. + +In a fever of anxiety Fletcher went up the wide stone steps of the +throne and crossed to the rock where the brooding Shape loomed. Slowly +and carefully he followed out the complicated instructions Lebrassa +had given. Presently an oblong hole appeared in the banked cloud. It +revealed nothing but darkness, no sign or sound of the one entombed +within. + +Telling his men to hold the rock back, he lowered himself into the +gaping hole. Then he took a torch from one of them and went along the +empty passage. + +The noise of his heavy military boots went echoing down the long, +rough, rock alley, booming into the cave beyond with the sound of +distant thunder. It made the girl sitting there in darkness, start up +with wildly beating heart, not knowing whether it was relief at last, +or whether the man suffering outside had been unable to endure more, +and had told her whereabouts. + +Fletcher came out of the slit with the growing fear that the horror +and loneliness had proved beyond the girl’s strength. + +Anxiously he stood gazing round the great cave, for the light of his +torch was not sufficient to pierce its far, gloomy corners. Out of the +darkness something seemed to float towards him; a wraith of a girl in +crumpled purple gauze where golden stars flashed. She was so +transparent and ethereal that for a moment he thought she was some +conception of his own mind come to haunt his waking hours as her ghost +did his dreams. + +Then dropping his torch he rushed forward and drew her into his arms. + +“My darling!” he cried, falling on his knees before her. + +Small hands, so thin and white, were on his shoulders. + +“Is he--still alive?” + +Leslie’s question sent a chill through her lover. In the end it seemed +that Lebrassa was victor, that he had succeeded in stealing her love. +The idea left Fletcher tongue-tied and clumsy, and choked back the +flood of tender words on his lips. + +“He’s still alive,” he said huskily. + +“Is… is he much hurt?” + +He knew she had no idea of the tortures savages were capable of +inflicting. He knew also that Lebrassa’s end was only a matter of a +few days, hours even, that his desire to see the girl for whose sake +he had suffered so much had helped to keep life in him. + +“I’m afraid he won’t recover.” + +“Then I shall have killed him!” + +“No, darling, his own wild schemings brought him to his end.” + +“He’s my cousin,” Leslie said brokenly. “And something my… father did +made him do all those dreadful things.” + +This was no news to Fletcher. The bare fact had come into Leslie’s +wild, imploring note, and it had left him wondering what the true +story was. + +“So you told me, little one,” he said tenderly. + +“I thought you would never come,” she said wildly. “I’ve waited so +long, all the time knowing they were torturing him. Perhaps I’m only +dreaming now, and I shall wake up in the dark again, thinking he’s +still being hurt.” + +Tenderly Fletcher drew her fragile little form closer. + +“Haven’t you a word of welcome for me, darling?” he asked. + +Leslie was too weak and dazed to realize anything except that relief +had come at last, and her only desire was to see the man who for her +sake had suffered so much. + +“I can’t think of anything but my cousin.” + +Fletcher’s arms dropped from the slender waist they encircled. It +seemed to him they had no place there; that he was usurping a dying +man’s privilege. + +Instinct must have told Leslie that his heart was stricken. + +“Don’t be hurt and angry, dear,” she pleaded. “I must do all I can to +make my cousin’s end happy. Don’t you see, he’s not a nigger to me +now. He’s my cousin. My brave, dear cousin. The cousin my… father +mortally injured.” + +Getting to his feet, Fletcher picked up the torch. As he did so, +drearily he wondered why the mulatto always succeeded in +out-maneuvering him where the girl they both loved was concerned. + +To Leslie the journey back to daylight was a blurred vista of +sensations. She was aware of a bigger flare of light as Fletcher +lifted her out through the hole and onto the rock throne. There was +the vast hall to cross, a walk that made her realize how weak she was. +Steps were reached, a breathless climb. Then a long corridor, like an +endless black tube, with a faint speck of light at the end, that grew +bigger and brighter as she stumbled on, until it almost blinded her. + +Well within the screening shadow of the tunnel, where the light did +not come so strongly, Fletcher came to a halt. He gave an order to a +_Hausa_ sergeant to fetch a hammock to carry Leslie to the palace. +Then he drew out a handkerchief and folded it thickly so as to bind +her eyes when she crossed the sunlit square. + +As they stood there waiting, Lieutenant Vincent came and spoke to her, +telling her that Lebrassa was a hero and a gentleman, that the doctor +was doing his best for him. + +He said a great deal more but that was all Leslie grasped. In a dazed +way she listened as he went on talking, glad some one was saying a +good word for her cousin. + +When the hammock came, Fletcher bound her eyes and carried her into +it. Then the screening cloth was taken off, she was in the green, +shady garden within the palace walls. + +The big arch leading into the courtyard was reached at last, then the +fretted, columned windows opening into the sitting-room that had once +been hers. + +The moment the bearers stopped Leslie slipped from the litter. She +went on blindly, with eyes only for a man on a low couch set between +the portraits of the two who were responsible for his being. + +She did not realize the extent of her cousin’s injuries, for his +persecutors had left his face untouched, and a coverlet screened the +rest from her sight. But there was no mistaking the suffering in the +tainted eyes watching so eagerly for her coming. + +With a little cry she crossed and knelt beside him, flooding his worn +face with her tears. The soft shower eased his look of pain and +anguish and took the wistful anxiety from his eyes. + +“The tears are not for me, are they, little rose?” he whispered. + +“You should have told them where I was. You shouldn’t have let them +hurt you,” she sobbed, as she smoothed back his crisp, wavy hair--now +more white than black--in an ecstasy of loving pity. + +“A life in hell makes one oblivious to pain, little cousin.” + +“You should have spoken! You should have spoken! You shouldn’t have +let them torture you because of me.” + +In a weak, pleased, tender manner Lebrassa laughed. + +“There’s no pain now, little rose, only sweetness.” + +The depth of love and suffering in his voice was more than Leslie +could bear. + +Her head sank on the coverlet and stayed there in an agony of +suppressed weeping. A mangled limb that had been bandaged back to some +semblance of an arm came out from beneath the screening coverlet, and +was put around her with a vestige of its old fierce protection. + +“You mustn’t cry, dearest,” he whispered. “I’ve got a better end than +I deserve.” + +“You mustn’t die, Essel. You mustn’t. I want you.” + +“I’d go through any hell, Leslie, to come out finding you weeping over +me, _wanting me!_” + +Then his faint, tired voice stopped. Happiness seemed to have taken +away his last remaining mite of strength. He lay just watching the +girl who knelt beside him, smoothing his grizzled hair and touching +his haggard face with gentle, caressing fingers, a touch that took all +pain from his eyes. + +The doctor’s entry roused them. Coming to the couch, he stood looking +at Lebrassa, wondering how much he would endure for the sake of the +girl with him, knowing what pain the moving of that encircling arm +must have caused. + +“I shall have to send you away now, Miss Graham,” he said in a kindly +manner. “I haven’t quite finished making your cousin comfortable.” + +The mere suggestion of her leaving him made Lebrassa’s arm tighten +round the girl. + +His action brought a tearful smile to Leslie’s lips. All was weakness +and suffering where once there had been such strength and power. She +did not draw back from that feeble hold, instead even more tenderly +she smoothed his worn face. + +“Let me go, Essel dear,” she whispered. “I’ll come back the moment the +doctor will let me.” + +With a touch of savage jealousy he held her tighter, kissing her +caressing hands passionately. + +“There’s no one but me now, is there, little angel? In spite of the +blackness,” he asked anxiously. + +“No one,” she whispered. + +She bent over him until the cloud of her hair screened from his sight +everything but herself. Gently she smoothed his worn face, and he +gazed at her in worship and adoration, whispering all the wild love +that, up to now, the knowledge of her aversion and dread of him had +kept stifled. + +When Leslie returned to his bedside she was no sultan’s bride, but a +little English girl in a straight, short-sleeved muslin frock with +hair done in tight coils round her ears. All afternoon she stayed +beside him, fanning him gently, for the breathless, tropical heat had +taken all but the faintest spark of life from him, and that was in the +tainted eyes that never left her face. + +The dim, shaded room was all peace and quiet, the silence broken only +by the girl’s slight movements, the occasional gentle murmur of her +voice and the tramp of the sentry on duty outside--the only thing that +said Lebrassa was a prisoner. + +For nearly a week he lingered, patient, quiet and happy, with Leslie +his nurse by day and Yoni taking night duty. + +There came a time when he was a little exacting with Leslie, anxious +she should stay with him all morning instead of going for her usual +half hour walk in the garden as he had always insisted, peevish if she +left him even for a moment. He was irritable with Yoni, not wanting +her near him; angry if any of the Englishmen came into the room, +holding Leslie in a weak yet savage, jealous way, if they spoke to +her. + +All morning he lay watching his cousin, refusing everything but the +sips of water she coaxed between his lips. But when lunch-time came he +asked her to go and have her meal in some cool spot in the garden, as +an excuse saying she had been tied to the room all morning and that +now he felt like sleeping a little. + +But once she was out of sight, he asked if he might see his captor. + +The request surprised Fletcher. Generally Lebrassa ignored him, if he +chanced to come in the room, granting him neither look nor word. The +message was from a dying man so Fletcher went, wondering why his +prisoner should suddenly ask for him. + +On approaching the couch, Lebrassa’s gaze met his in a pleading, +anxious manner. Then he looked at the doctor who usually sat in the +room. + +“Could we be quite alone, Captain Fletcher?” he asked faintly. + +Fletcher glanced toward his medical officer. + +“I’ll take a turn with the patient, if you’d like to get along for +lunch now.” + +Once the doctor was out of earshot, Lebrassa spoke again. + +“You love my cousin, Captain Fletcher?” + +From such a source the captain once would have resented this question. +Even now it rubbed him on the raw, but remembering the cause for which +his rival was dying he answered from his heart. + +“I loved Miss Graham from the first moment I saw her.” + +“Leslie loves you, too, though she tries to hide it from me,” Lebrassa +replied. “But in her generous, unselfish way she has given me one week +in heaven, and for that I’m grateful.” + +As if getting his words together Lebrassa paused. + +“My cousin is penniless,” he continued a moment later. “She can’t +prove her claim to anything that was once my father’s. As an indemnity +your government will seize all I own out here, so it’s no use for me +to make a will in her favor.” + +Realizing the truth of these statements, Fletcher said nothing. He had +decided what Leslie’s future was to be. That she was penniless did not +trouble him at all; he had a comfortable income apart from his pay. +But he still wondered what the interview was leading up to. + +“I want Leslie to be happy,” that weak, gasping voice continued. “And +she can’t be with the weight of her father’s sins upon her. And +because of them, she won’t marry you either.” + +This fact Fletcher had not grasped. Now it made him listen eagerly to +what the dying man was saying. + +“I can’t bear to think of her missing happiness because of her father. +Because of his sins going through life feeling a leper. I know that +feeling only too well. And I won’t have Leslie suffer in the way I +have.” + +Fletcher saw his own paradise retreating, and the fact stunned him. + +“But what can you do?” he asked rather helplessly. + +His question brought a slight smile to Lebrassa’s drawn lips. + +“In strategy and finesse I’ve always been the better man of the two,” +he remarked. + +Fletcher knew the Sultan was referring to their many rounds in past +days, when he had always proved himself more than a match for the +Englishman. + +“I’m going to tell my cousin another story,” Lebrassa went on. “And +_you_ must uphold my second confession. Now listen carefully.” + +Fletcher stooped over the bed to miss no word of that faint, gasping +speech. With heads close together they stayed talking, two men, once +mortal enemies, now brought together as friends in defense of the girl +they both loved. + +“But it’s going back on a brave man,” Fletcher protested when Lebrassa +had finished. + +“Better to go back on a ‘brave man’ as you please to call me, than +leave an innocent, honorable girl suffering for the rest of her life. +And you’ll be the braver man, Captain Fletcher, for you’ll have to +tell lies and stick to them, knowing that by cheating you’ll win the +prize.” + +To Fletcher it seemed no sacrifice could be greater than the one his +old enemy was prepared to make for the sake of the girl they both +loved. + +“You will back me up,” Lebrassa pleaded. + +Fletcher was past speaking; he just nodded. + +A bandaged arm made a movement in his direction, as if to shake hands +on their bargain. Then Lebrassa seemed to recollect what he was and +the mutilated limb was drawn back. Slight as the gesture was, Fletcher +saw it and he put his own hand carefully on the stump where his +enemy’s hand had once been. + +When Leslie returned to her vigil by her cousin’s couch there was no +sign of Fletcher. Nor did the doctor who was sitting in the room make +any mention of his visit. + +The long, hot, trying afternoon dragged on. It left Lebrassa lying +with closed eyes, that opened only to smile when she touched him +caressingly. But the coolness of evening brought a little life to him. + +For a long time he stayed watching her in an anxious, hungry, jealous +way. Then a whisper brought her bending over him. + +“There’s something I want to tell you, Leslie. Something that will +take all your love away from me.” + +“What is it, dear?” she asked. “What do you want to tell me now?” + +The whole of his nightmare life, black, white and red, had been poured +out before her during the past few days. + +“It’s about you, dearest,” he whispered, in a hesitating manner, as if +afraid of what the result of his confession would be. + +“I’m listening, Essel,” she said, patting his hollow face tenderly. + +“It’s what I once told you about your father. It wasn’t true. Not a +word of it, except that I am your cousin, but not legally. My father +married my mother by heathen rites only. Think of it, Leslie, would +such a thing as a legal marriage be likely? My father was the +reprobate, not yours. He was a just and honorable man, even to me. +Accidentally I learned who my dead father was. I forged that letter +and went to my uncle, claiming to be the legal son of his elder +brother. He listened to me. Read my letter. Said if my story was true, +he would give me my title and estates, but I must first produce my +mother’s marriage certificate and my own birth certificate. She had +been dead long before I went to him, and I swore she had hidden the +proofs I wanted and that the secret of their hiding-place had died +with her.” + +There was a brief pause, then the weak voice went on, gradually +gaining force and power and conviction--a dying man’s effort to remove +a heritage of sin from a girl’s white conscience. + +“He came out to Kallu, to see how much of my wild story was true, and +spent a lot of time in trying to find out the truth. Then he +discovered it, and accused me of being the imposter I was. I tried to +terrorize him into giving me what was his, and acknowledge me as his +brother’s legal son. I said I’d have his life and the lives of his +wife and child if he did not give me my father’s title and estates. +Fear for them drove him from England. It was not true, anything I told +you that day you came to Kallu, Leslie. I said it to make you be kind +to me, so that you wouldn’t quite hate me, knowing it would be so easy +to deceive you, that I might get sympathy that way, if not love.” + +Stunned, Leslie listened. + +For a moment it seemed as though the burden of her father’s infamy had +slipped from her. Then other thoughts came that made her bend over her +cousin in an ecstasy of love and pity. + +“I don’t believe you, Essel.” + +“It is true. You must believe me,” he said with weak determination. “I +said it to make you like me. I’ve deceived everybody, so why not you, +the one I plotted and schemed and did murder to get? Why not you, the +little girl whose love I wanted, who always paid her debts so nobly? +Why not forge a debt to make you pay me back in the sympathy and +sweetness I couldn’t get otherwise?” + +There was conviction in the voice that had gathered strength for this +last effort at deception. But in Leslie’s mind were childish +recollections of a drunken, dissipated man who had habits and ways and +ideas that the light of advancing years had shown her were neither +just nor honorable. Above all was the knowledge of her cousin’s wild +love and depth of sacrifice for herself. + +She leaned over him, anxious these last few hours should be as happy +as she could make them. + +“Never mind, dear. If you deceived me, it was because you loved me.” + +Searchingly, he watched her. + +“You believe me, don’t you, little rose? I swear it on my dying oath.” + +She took his anxious, watching face between her hands. + +“I believe you, Essel, but it doesn’t make any difference now. You’re +my cousin just the same. The dear, brave cousin I love.” + +This effort to remove the burden of sin from her shoulders to his own, +left him almost unconscious. + +Daylight died away, and brought shadows creeping into the room. + +Lebrassa lay in a fitful, uneasy doze, starting and waking to gaze +round anxiously for Leslie. The doctor came in to light the lamp and +look at his patient, and out again to fetch Fletcher. The two +Englishmen stayed in the screening shadows so that the dying man could +not see them, knowing their presence might raise a flood of negro +jealousy he was now too feeble to keep under control. + +Midnight came. Lebrassa still lay muttering, sometimes in the language +of his mother’s people, sometimes in English--back again to his +boyhood spent in England. + +All at once he started up with the wild war-cry of his negro +ancestors. Fletcher and the doctor darted forward to hold down the +maimed, distorted thing howling on the couch. Their presence maddened +him, and brought back all the hatred of the whites that had once been +his. + +A savage roar of fury greeted them in the heathen dialect that, in +past days, had led many a charge against their color. + +There was a quick movement beside him, and a slim, white hand was laid +on his shoulder. + +“Essel! Essel, dear.” + +Leslie’s voice brought his mad, blazing eyes from the two white men. +For a moment he looked at her in bewilderment, then a smile came. + +“Why, little rose!” he exclaimed, as if brought out of some nightmare. + +Falling back weakly, he lay watching her. + +“Keep hold of me, little cousin,” he gasped presently. “Hell is so +close now. Hell here and hereafter.” + +With an arm around his neck, she sat with her face pressed close +against his brown one. + +His voice came again, peevish and fretful. + +“It’s so dark now, I can’t see you, dearest. You won’t go where I +can’t find you, will you?” + +“No, dear, I’ll stay with you always.” + +There was no reply. But a bandaged arm came out from beneath the +coverlet and groped round blindly as if feeling for something. + +Leslie put it round her waist where it stayed contentedly. + +For some time there was silence. The night wind came creeping through +the fretted arches, bringing the moaning sigh of the surrounding +wilderness, and distant, weird, wild, forest howls. + +Then a whisper came, faint and far away, from just on the Verge--the +last, tired sigh of a soul slipping into eternity. + +“I deceived you, little rose. I swear it on my dying oath. Say you +believe--” + +“I believe you, dear. Of course I do,” she whispered, stooping. + +But the lips Leslie kissed were dead ones. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI + + “_I loved her better than my life,_ + _And better than my soul._” + +On the veranda of Harding’s bungalow Leslie was sitting. Over two +months had passed since, away in the wilds, Essel, Earl of Alglenton, +the man known as the Hyena, had died. The previous day, in Fletcher’s +charge, the girl had returned to Calabar. Now, as the Major’s guest, +she was awaiting the arrival of the steamer that was to take her back +to England and civilization. + +To Leslie, the time that had elapsed since Molly’s marriage had +assumed the aspect of some ghastly nightmare from which she had +emerged with the shadow of sin upon her. She could not make up her +mind which of her cousin’s two confessions was the true one; there was +so much for and against each. + +Yet Captain Fletcher, who was generally right about things, always +voted in favor of the last. + +The mere idea that her father might not be responsible for Lebrassa’s +crimes had lifted the cloud of despair that had settled on the girl. + +As she sat there brooding, another problem confronted her--the problem +of a living. In a listless manner she was going through a pile of +papers on a table beside her, too full of other thoughts to realize +they were more than a month old. + +From this occupation a step roused her, and sent her eyes to the big +sunburnt man coming along the veranda. + +Now, where Leslie was concerned, Fletcher had no nervousness. She was +the woman he loved, who loved him, and who deliberately shut herself +away from him behind the barrier of her father’s possible crimes. + +Halting at her side, he eyed the newspaper she was scanning, which was +open at the “help wanted” page. + +“Why are you looking at that?” he asked. + +“I must get something to do when I return to England.” + +Leslie was not looking forward to taking up life again. For two years +she had been more or less out of things, and she knew the future was +not going to be any too pleasant or easy. + +“There’s only one job open for you now, and that’s marrying me,” he +said firmly. + +“I’d marry you to-morrow, dear, if--” + +She broke off, the blighted look he now knew very well again on her +face. + +Before Fletcher there arose the picture of a dim room in a far-away +marble palace, a mangled form on a low couch, the anxiety in its +tainted eyes, and his promise to a dying man. + +“My darling, I know your cousin’s second confession was the true one, +everything points to it,” he said tenderly. + +“But my father wasn’t my idea of an honorable man, Lindsay.” + +“Any man would go to pieces if he had to give up everything and fly +for his life.” + +Earnestly she looked at him. + +“Do you _really_ think Essel was speaking the truth when he said my +father was not to blame? You know he’d endure anything, tell any lie +to save me.” + +In his own mind Fletcher had no doubt which was the real culprit. For +all that he was adding brick after brick to the wall of deception +Lebrassa had endeavored to raise between the girl and the truth, +hoping it would soon be high enough to screen from her the deeds that +some men will do in their lust for power and position and money. + +“Of course he was, my darling,” he said firmly. “Haven’t I said so a +thousand times. And have you ever caught me in a lie?” he added +bravely. + +Leslie took one of his sunburnt hands and pressed it to her cheek. + +“You’ve been so good to me, Lindsay,” she whispered. “And sometimes I +almost think you’re right about--my father not being to blame.” + +“Give me some proof of your faith by marrying me. Don’t spoil both our +lives because of a fancy.” + +“I wish I could really think it was a fancy.” + +“That’s all it is, darling. A fancy that, if you’re not careful, is +going to make a mess of both our lives.” + +“I do so want you to be happy,” she said, suddenly weakening. “And if +you really think--” + +Fletcher did not give her time to finish her sentence. + +“Think! I know,” he exclaimed, catching her into his arms. + +He kissed the small, white, anxious face and the wide, blue eyes that +were looking into his as if trying to read the truth in his soul. + +“He was a hero, that cousin of yours,” he said hoarsely, a few minutes +later. “A far braver man than you know, Leslie. Braver than I could +have been under the same conditions.” + +Leslie liked to hear him praise her cousin, and she tried to think his +words referred to the tortures Lebrassa had undergone for her sake, +which Fletcher had accounted for by saying the Kalluians had objected +to their Sultan’s marrying a white woman. + +But to Fletcher, now, the wall of deception he had built round Leslie +was a monument raised to the memory of a brave man whom Fate and +circumstances had driven mad. + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. bloodthirsty/blood-thirsty, +market-square/market square, etc.) have been preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Formatting: abandon the use of drop-caps and left-align the chapter +epigraphs. + +Fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings. + +Add ToC. + +[Chapter II] + +Change “I can see your _ear_ eyes opening when you receive this” to +_dear_. + +[Chapter III] + +“In the lounge hall of the _hotle_ the visitors were assembling” to +_hotel_. + +[Chapter IV] + +“but quite another to dine tête-à-tête _wtih_ a” to _with_. + +[Chapter VI] + +“He leaves for England the day after _tomorrow_” to _to-morrow_. + +[Chapter VIII] + +“Presently, approaching _foosteps_ made her glance round” to +_footsteps_. + +[Chapter XXIV] + +“a slim girl, like a golden reed, _drapped_ in the garment of the” +_draped_. + +“As if brooding on the _long dead_ past, Lebrassa paused again” to +_long-dead_. + +[Chapter XXVII] + +“knew that beyond lies a secret _pasage_ leading to the heart” to +_passage_. + + [End of text] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78276 *** diff --git a/78276-h/78276-h.htm b/78276-h/78276-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84f759b --- /dev/null +++ b/78276-h/78276-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16097 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Bride of the night | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l0 {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + .toc_l2 {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 4em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + .stanza {margin:1em 0em 0em 0em; text-indent:0em;} + .i0 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + .i1 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 3em; text-indent:-2em;} + .i2 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 4em; text-indent:-2em;} + .i4 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 6em; text-indent:-2em;} + + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt6 {margin-top:6em;} + + /* chapter epigraphs */ + .ch_ep {font-size:92%; margin:auto auto 1em auto;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78276 ***</div> + +<h1> +BRIDE OF THE NIGHT +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="font80">BY</span><br> +LOUISE GERARD +</p> + +<p class="center mt6"> +<span class="font80">NEW YORK</span><br> +THE MACAULAY COMPANY +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc">Copyright, 1930<br> +By Louise Gerard</span> +</p> + + +<h2> +[DEDICATION] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc">To My Friend<br> +Dorothea Thornton Clarke, F.R.G.S.,</span><br> +<i>without whose help and constant encouragement<br> +neither this nor any of my books would<br> +have been written</i> +</p> + + +<h2> +[EPIGRAPH] +</h2> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Wild winds! What are the wild winds?</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>They are love and hate and lust and avarice.</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Wild winds that blow through the kingdom of the soul,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Catching us we know not when,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Carrying us we know not where.</i></span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l0"> +<a href="#p1">Part One</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch01">Chapter I</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch02">Chapter II</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch03">Chapter III</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch04">Chapter IV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch05">Chapter V</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch06">Chapter VI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch07">Chapter VII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch08">Chapter VIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch09">Chapter IX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch10">Chapter X</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch11">Chapter XI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch12">Chapter XII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch13">Chapter XIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch14">Chapter XIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch15">Chapter XV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch16">Chapter XVI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch17">Chapter XVII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch18">Chapter XVIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l0"> +<a href="#p2">Part Two</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch19">Chapter XIX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch20">Chapter XX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch21">Chapter XXI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch22">Chapter XXII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch23">Chapter XXIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch24">Chapter XXIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch25">Chapter XXV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch26">Chapter XXVI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch27">Chapter XXVII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch28">Chapter XXVIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch29">Chapter XXIX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch30">Chapter XXX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l2"> +<a href="#ch31">Chapter XXXI</a> +</p> + + +<h2 id="p1"> +PART ONE +</h2> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“<span class="sc">Men</span> will call me unrelenting,</span><br> +<span class="i2">Pitiless, vindictive, stern,</span><br> +<span class="i0">Few will raise a voice dissenting,</span><br> +<span class="i4">Few will better things discern.”</span><br> +</p> + +</blockquote> + + +<h3 id="ch01"> +CHAPTER I +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Shall we count offences or coin excuses,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Or weigh with scales the soul of a man?</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dr. Atherley’s</span> bungalow was the resort of British officials who +passed through Duke Town on their way to and from various posts in +West Africa. It was an ugly, hygienic structure of corrugated iron +situated on the more civilized side of the Calabar River, facing an +expanse of sullen, slow-flowing water on the far bank of which was an +endless stretch of mangrove and pandanus swamp. +</p> + +<p> +One day when Atherley returned home from a round of duties at the +military hospital, on his veranda he found an acquaintance—an officer +from up-country. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, Fletcher, have you caught your Hyena yet?” he said by way of +greeting. +</p> + +<p> +The question brought a look of mingled chagrin and regret to Captain +Lindsay Fletcher’s sun-bitten face. The “Hyena” was a mysterious negro +sultan, a notorious raider, so-called because of his tribal cry; and +for some years the captain had been trying to run him to earth. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t,” he replied, “but he’s caught and tortured to death +another of my juniors, young Dennis.” +</p> + +<p> +Atherley poured out a dose of whiskey from a bottle standing on a +table near. +</p> + +<p> +“That nigger is the very devil,” he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d give ten years of my life to catch him,” Fletcher said fervently. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever thought of looking for him in unlikely places?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve looked into every hole and corner of my various districts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not spread your net a little farther?” +</p> + +<p> +Captain Fletcher was lying at his ease on a long cane lounge. The +doctor’s question made him sit up smartly. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you heard anything?” he questioned quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a thing! But your Hyena interests me. He seems to me a bit too +clever to be wholly a product of the wilds. There’s a nigger in this +town whose record isn’t any too healthy. It struck me it might be +worth your while to probe into his intimate affairs.” +</p> + +<p> +Although Duke Town was hundreds of miles away from the scenes of the +mysterious negro chieftain’s raids and massacres, Fletcher did not +scoff at his friend’s suggestions. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s your suspect?” he asked, all attention. +</p> + +<p> +Atherley settled his shriveled, sun-dried self in a long chair. +</p> + +<p> +“His name is Essel Lebrassa. He’s a mulatto. Senior—” +</p> + +<p> +“I always said there was more than a nigger’s brain behind the Hyena’s +tactics,” Fletcher interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so fast. I’m not accusing Lebrassa. I’m only saying—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, cut out the preaching and give me full particulars,” Fletcher +said with open impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“This Essel Lebrassa is a better educated man than any one here +present. He’s the senior partner of the firm of Lebrassa and Cooper. +Cooper, by the way, is coal black. They’re enormously wealthy, both of +them. Lebrassa holds all sorts of weird, wild orgies in that villa of +his on the hill here. And he has a whole harem of colored mistresses. +What’s more, he hates a white skin like poison.” +</p> + +<p> +By now Fletcher was weighing facts carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“But none of that points to his having any connection with the fiend +who periodically raids our up-country districts,” he said in a +despondent manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m getting there,” Atherley replied. +</p> + +<p> +He took a sip of whiskey. +</p> + +<p> +“Occasionally this Lebrassa disappears for months on end,” he +continued. “Presumably he goes to Europe or America. But I heard from +Harding that this buck nigger, who was supposed to be in England last +year, joined the outward bound steamer not in Liverpool, but in Lagos! +And last year the Hyena was busy in your district.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should rather think he was!” Fletcher said feelingly. “Massacred +half my <i>Hausas</i>, not to mention poor Dennis, and raided and burned a +score of my villages. But this Lagos incident doesn’t prove anything. +Lebrassa may have come out by some previous boat and got off there on +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may have,” Atherley agreed. “But that little fact made me look +into things. And it seems queer that <i>all</i> Lebrassa’s absences +coincide with the times when the Hyena gets busy. Anyhow, he left here +last week, presumably for England, even mentioning the town he was +bound for—Harrogate. As you’re going home by the next steamer, it +might be worth your while to see if Lebrassa really is there as +reported.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s he like?” Fletcher asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A big chap. Bigger than you, and that’s saying something. Age, about +forty. Not so bad-looking, either, even according to European +standards.” +</p> + +<p> +These remarks left Fletcher thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“The description tallies,” he said at length, “except that the Hyena +is black as soot, but dye could turn a brown skin ebony. And +considering he’s been a thorn in the flesh of three governments for +twenty years, he can’t be altogether a chicken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. That’s why I mentioned this Essel Lebrassa to you. With no +clue at all as to who and what the Hyena really is, or where he comes +from, the merest suspicion is worth following.” +</p> + +<p> +“It certainly makes it worth my while looking in at Harrogate. And if +Lebrassa isn’t there. Well—” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher broke off, and lapsed into thoughtful silence. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +CHAPTER II +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Thus we know not the day, nor the morrow,</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>Nor yet what a night may bring forth,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Nor the storm, nor the sleep, nor the sorrow,</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>Nor the strife, nor the rest, nor the wrath.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In</span> the winter garden of a big hotel in Harrogate the visitors were +assembling for tea. One couple sat apart from the rest of the guests; +they were the object of many curious and contemptuous glances. The +girl was about twenty-seven. She had a weak, worn face, dreamy, gray +eyes, and a mass of golden hair. Her companion was a coal-black negro, +ostentatiously dressed, who hung over her with an air of possession. +</p> + +<p> +A stir at the far end of the room made her turn to a man near, who was +leaning against a pillar watching the assembly in a bored manner. +</p> + +<p> +He was a mulatto of the best type, verging on forty, well but quietly +dressed. He stood nearly six feet three in height, but his massive +shoulders made him appear less tall than he really was. His was a +powerful face, European in feature. The negro taint showed only in the +pale brown of his skin, and a peculiar blueness in the whites of his +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lebrassa, I think that’s the post,” she said. “Please go and see +if there are any letters for me.” +</p> + +<p> +The request brought his eyes to the couple. +</p> + +<p> +“With pleasure, Miss Seaton,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +His voice was that of a man of culture; in it was no trace of the +stilted, jerky intonation usual with his kind. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa passed through the winter garden into a lounge hall beyond, +where the letters were being sorted. On making his request he received +one addressed to “Miss Molly Seaton”—a letter in a flaming crimson +envelope. +</p> + +<p> +The unusual color made him look at it with some curiosity. As he +turned it over a name written across the flap caught his eye. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Leslie Graham.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +On seeing it, he started as if suddenly stung, and from his lips there +came a fierce, smothered exclamation of astonishment and triumph. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he stood with the missive crushed to a red streak in his +hand. Then slipping it into his pocket he went back to the +winter-garden. +</p> + +<p> +At his return Molly looked up anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there nothing for me?” she questioned quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“No. Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +She sighed, and the dreary look on her face deepened. +</p> + +<p> +The mulatto watched her closely. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re disappointed,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I was hoping to get a letter from a friend in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently Lebrassa left the winter garden, and made his way upstairs +to his private sitting-room. Once there he locked the door. Seating +himself in front of the fire, he opened the scarlet letter. +</p> + +<p> +As he drew out the contents a photograph fell to the floor. This he +picked up and glanced at. Then putting the picture on the table by his +side he started the letter. +</p> + +<p> +It had a Paris address and ran as follows: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>My Own Darling Molly</i>, +</p> + +<p> +Things have gone our way at last! I can see your dear eyes opening +when you receive this startling epistle, startling as regards color +and contents. It is the red letter day of my career, so I speculated +in a box of this glowing carmine to celebrate the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +How does £300 a year sound for me, Leslie Graham? At one time living +on your bounty, Molly mine. I can’t believe it’s really true, yet +provided you come with me the job is mine. It means so much. It means +we can always be together now. It means you won’t have to do another +day’s work. It means space and color and fresh air and sunshine, all +the things you must have and that we’ve always wanted. It really means +I’ve got a job as foreign correspondence clerk to a shipping firm in +Marseilles. +</p> + +<p> +My gift for languages, the only thing I inherited from my dear old +dissipated father, is going to prove as useful to me as it was to him. +It found him a job in every corner of the earth, and if it does the +same for me we shall get round the world, Molly mine, and your silly +old lungs will behave themselves properly in sunny climes. +</p> + +<p> +Now I’ll give you the whole campaign. +</p> + +<p> +When I last wrote I gave you an inkling of it. I stood as good a +chance as anyone. I had every qualification they wanted. For two weeks +I waited, getting sicker and sicker every day. Messieurs Dupont, +Baroche et Cie. made no acknowledgment of my existence. Imagine my +surprise and delight when with my coffee and rolls this morning came a +letter from the firm, requesting me to present myself at their Paris +office at my earliest convenience. +</p> + +<p> +You may be sure I went, tout suite. They examined me in all the +required languages and I came off with flying colors. Then they tested +my shorthand, bookkeeping and typewriting, and finally had an inquest +on my testimonials. +</p> + +<p> +Unfortunately I had one great fault—I was very young. +</p> + +<p> +Then, Molly mine, I told them all about you. That settled it. They +were no longer the Inquisition, burning to find some flaw in my +composition, qualifications and testimonials, but two really nice, +bald-headed, old gentlemen, quite anxious to entrust their foreign +correspondence in my keeping provided you are there to vouch for my +respectability and keep me anchored to my job. +</p> + +<p> +So, Molly, old thing, in the near future, I hope we shall have a +little place all our very own by the sunny Mediterranean. I’m coming +to see you on Saturday, and I shall land up at your hotel in time for +dinner. So-long. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Always your loving<br> +<span class="sc">Leslie</span>. +</p> + +<p> +P.S. Enclosed is a photograph of our little lot, so you will see hard +work has not aged me beyond recognition. L.G. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Lebrassa read the letter through a second time. Then he got to his +feet and went to Cooper’s room. In shirt sleeves the negro was seated +before a mirror, vigorously brushing his wool. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing the mulatto he got to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Cooper, have you fixed up with your little white girl yet?” +Lebrassa asked. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the negro stared at his visitor in blank astonishment, as +if the question were the last he had expected. Then a look of hungry +passion came to his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to God I had,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“There should be no difficulty,” Lebrassa said. “She’s a weak, +easily-persuaded creature. I’ve a reason for wanting her married to +you by next Saturday.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that only gives me three days,” Cooper said in a despondent +manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you don’t make her overlook your color before the week is +out, there’ll be very little chance for you. An Englishman is coming +here on Saturday whose desire is much the same as yours. I’m going to +interview him, and I want to tell him among other things that his +proposed fiancée has eloped with a nigger. If he’s anything like his +father, the news should prove a trifle disconcerting.” +</p> + +<p> +In wild excitement the negro took a step forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Not de Tourville’s son!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Every circumstance points to it. He bears an alias Lionel de +Tourville adopted, and possessed a father as dissipated, moreover a +man who had been to most parts of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then vengeance is ours at last!” Cooper yelled. +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly,” Lebrassa answered, coolly. “However, this man’s fate is my +concern alone. Yours is to carry out my wishes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Nanza?” Cooper asked. “He will want a hand in this.” +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of the name the mulatto’s eyes narrowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nanza!” he said contemptuously. “What of him?” +</p> + +<p> +With a savage, brooding air, Lebrassa returned to his own quarters. +</p> + +<p> +On entering, the photograph lying on the table took his attention. +Again he picked it up. Across the back was written in a small, firm +hand: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Puzzle, find Leslie Graham.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +He glanced at the picture. It was a group of eight young people, five +men and three girls. +</p> + +<p> +A girl’s face took his attention. She was hardly more than a child, +delicate and refined-looking, who was smiling out at the world in rare +good fellowship and kindliness. And it seemed to Lebrassa her smile +was directed at <i>him</i>! +</p> + +<p> +His glance went from her to the young men. At each in turn he looked, +wondering with which he had to deal. Then his gaze came back to the +girl’s face and stayed there. Until the dinner gong sounded, he sat +looking at it, wondering bitterly if she would smile at him in such a +friendly manner if she knew he was a “nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +When the dinner gong went booming through the big hotel, he tore off +the rest of the photograph and threw it into the fire. But the small, +smiling, friendly face he put carefully into his pocket-book. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +CHAPTER III +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>It may be my fancy and nothing more.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In</span> the lounge hall of the hotel the visitors were assembling. +Gathered in little groups, they were talking, smoking and drinking +cocktails before going in for dinner. Half hidden in an archway that +led to the winter garden, was a girl in a cheap black evening frock. +</p> + +<p> +She was small and slight, with a fair, delicate complexion and big, +dark-fringed eyes almost startling in their vivid blueness. Her wavy +black hair was worn in thick, tight coils round her ears. There was a +tired droop about her childish figure, and deep dark rings under eyes +that scanned each late-comer anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +A voice speaking almost at her elbow brought her attention to a couple +of men near. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the fifth nigger I’ve counted within the last five minutes. +The place is creeping with them. A nigger wild is the devil’s own +production, and to see the beast dressed up like yourself is +absolutely sickening.” +</p> + +<p> +In surprise, the girl glanced at the speaker. He was a tall, sunburnt +man who looked like an officer home on leave from tropic parts. She +wondered why he should have spoken just when that big mulatto was in +the act of passing. Several other colored people had gone by, but he +had made no comments about them, and they all had been more obviously +“niggers” than the man at whom the remarks were leveled. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the mulatto, knowing he must have heard, and then back +at the Englishman who seemed bent on insulting him. +</p> + +<p> +With a casual, indifferent glance at Fletcher, Lebrassa passed on. +Halting a yard or so away, he stood talking to a few other colored +people. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a pretty crowd of buck niggers for you,” Fletcher went on, +with the same loud, offensive manner. “It’s bad enough to have to deal +with them in the land set apart for their sort, but to rub shoulders +with them in England is the limit.” +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible for the group not to hear what he said. With +smothered hatred one or two negroes glanced at him, but Lebrassa +ignored him and his remarks completely. +</p> + +<p> +With indignation the girl glanced at Fletcher. Whatever his private +opinion of negroes might be, it was the height of bad taste to insult +them publicly. Yet, in spite of his flagrant rudeness, it struck her +the Englishman was a type who ought to have known better. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher showered further abuse on the group of colored men—abuse +that drew all eyes but Lebrassa’s to him. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the girl moved forward. +</p> + +<p> +An unexpected voice took Fletcher’s attention from the scheme on +hand—an effort to break through the mask of bored indifference +screening Lebrassa’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought not to talk in that manner,” a sweet voice said with +trembling indignation. “They can’t help their color. And you don’t +show your superiority by being rude to them.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa glanced at the girl, amazed that she should speak in defence +of his color. Her face was vaguely familiar. He wondered who she was, +and where he had seen her before. +</p> + +<p> +In sudden interest, his mask of indifference dropped. On his face was +the haughty arrogance of a savage ruler. +</p> + +<p> +Brief as the unveiling was, it brought a glint of satisfaction to +Fletcher’s eyes. He had wanted to catch Lebrassa off his guard, and +the girl’s defence had succeeded where his own abuse had failed. +</p> + +<p> +With some amusement he looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Really!” he said. “Do you honestly think niggers have feelings that +could be damaged by my remarks?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is neither the time nor the place to discuss the subject,” she +answered. +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned quickly into the winter garden. +</p> + +<p> +She was sorry she had spoken. Her interference had done no good, and +it had drawn unwelcome attention to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Going to a secluded corner, she sat down and tried to compose herself. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, voices talking on the other side of the greenery reached +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” one asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m pretty certain I’m on the right trail this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense! He bears no resemblance to the Hyena.” +</p> + +<p> +“The resemblance is as much as any one could swear to after glimpsing +that brute for a moment in the heat of a midnight ambush, and meeting +this man three years later, in the dinner garb of civilization with a +skin considerably lighter. Besides the look he gave when that little +girl spoke was familiar.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see the Hyena in every nigger over six foot,” was the scoffing +reply. +</p> + +<p> +“So would you, if you’d had to clean up after him as I have. Of course +the resemblance may be a matter of coincidence. For all that I’d like +to give him a coat of black paint and a covering no bigger than a +handkerchief and see what I thought of him then.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that nigger supposed to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“A palm-oil trader, from Calabar, Southern Nigeria. Essel Lebrassa by +name. Atherley told me about him, and I came here for the sole purpose +of having a look at him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Calabar is far enough from the Hyena’s beat.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m inclined to think he’s had a finger in every rising in the length +and breadth of West Africa for the last twenty years.” +</p> + +<p> +All at once it dawned on the girl she was eavesdropping. To give +evidence of her presence, she moved her chair. The sudden sharp scrape +along the floor made the voices stop abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +Presently two men came sauntering down the leafy alley where she was +sitting. One of them was the sunburnt Englishman whose behavior had +aroused her indignation some minutes previously. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing him she realized the topic of their conversation must have +been the big mulatto who had won her admiration by his quiet disregard +of the Englishman’s rudeness. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +CHAPTER IV +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>How, let me ask, will it end?</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> the girl in black turned into the winter garden, Lebrassa was +conscious of only one thing—a desire to follow and find out who she +was. Then the approach of a page took his attention to other matters. +</p> + +<p> +On the salver the boy held was a telegram. Lebrassa opened and read +the message. It was from Cooper, saying he had married Molly Seaton by +special license in Liverpool that morning. +</p> + +<p> +Putting it into his pocket, Lebrassa turned towards the page. +</p> + +<p> +“Have there been any inquiries for Miss Seaton?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not that I know of, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa glanced at his wrist watch. +</p> + +<p> +It was quite possible the London train was late. Leslie Graham might +not have arrived yet. +</p> + +<p> +“If any one inquires for Miss Seaton, send him to 19 on the first +floor,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell the porter, sir,” the boy replied. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa left the hall and went upstairs to his own private +sitting-room. It was as silent as the tomb except for the ticking of a +clock and the occasional rattle of a cinder on the hearth. The solid +door, with its rubber beading and heavy curtain, prevented any noise +from entering. And, equally, any noise in the room would not reach the +world’s ears. +</p> + +<p> +This last fact must have been in his mind, for the lines of cruelty +about his mouth deepened to absolute savagery as he stood waiting for +the coming of Leslie Graham. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the door swung open. +</p> + +<p> +For a second time that night Lebrassa forgot the business on hand. +</p> + +<p> +Standing on the threshold was the girl who had been his champion +barely twenty minutes before. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing him, she came to an abrupt halt, staring at him in blank +amazement. Then she made a backward movement. +</p> + +<p> +The action roused him. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the room hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” she said. “I must have got to the wrong room. I’m +afraid I startled you, bursting in like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t startle me in the least,” he replied, smiling at her. “And +if you tell me what room you want, perhaps I can put you right.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the bureau they said I was to go to 19 on the first floor. But +they must have given me the wrong number.” +</p> + +<p> +She had recognized Lebrassa as the man who had been the butt of +Fletcher’s rudeness. This second meeting left her wondering at his +cultured voice and well-bred ease of manner. And it also brought a +desire to show him that all English people were not so rude and +offensive as the man who had attacked him in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s next remark put a means of compensation into her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“You look very tired,” he said. “Let me go down to the bureau and see +if I can solve the mystery for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s most kind of you,” she said gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad to be of any assistance. Won’t you sit down in the +meantime?” +</p> + +<p> +Crossing to the fireplace, he drew one of the big, comfortable chairs +closer. In a way that was vaguely familiar she smiled at him. Then, +with an air of suppressed weariness, she seated herself. +</p> + +<p> +He leant against the chimney-piece, toying with a little metal vase +there. At that moment only one fact had any place in his mind. By some +lucky chance the girl who so interested him had strayed into his room, +and he wanted to keep her as long as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom shall I ask for?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m trying to find Miss Seaton.” +</p> + +<p> +The name brought his thoughts back to the man he was expecting. +</p> + +<p> +He scanned his visitor more closely. She was a gentlewoman, Molly +Seaton a very ordinary type of lower middle-class girl clerk. He +wondered what the two had in common and how they came to be friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Who shall I say is inquiring?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie Graham.” +</p> + +<p> +A tense, quivering pause greeted her statement. The little brass vase +he was toying with crumpled up like an eggshell as his hand clenched +round it. He stood as though pressing backwards, with his whole +strength, against some wild flood that would have swept him on towards +the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie Graham,” he repeated, in a thick, strained voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You seem surprised,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I always thought it was a man’s name,” he said in the same husky way. +</p> + +<p> +“It can be a girl’s too,” she explained. “In fact I’m called after my +father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never heard it as a girl’s name,” he said hoarsely. “Years ago I +knew a boy of the name. He would be about grown up, twenty or +twenty-one now. I wonder if he was a relative of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had a brother called Leslie, but he died before my day. So he +couldn’t have been the boy you mean. Though he would have been about +twenty-one now,” she added reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa changed the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“This is hardly finding your friend for you,” he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +With a quick, fierce movement he turned from her, and went downstairs +to make inquiries he knew would be useless. +</p> + +<p> +When he came back, a few minutes later, all trace of his surprise had +vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“They tell me, Miss Graham, that your friend left here early this +morning for Liverpool and hasn’t returned yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what they told me. And I can’t make it out at all. It’s so +strange she should have gone the very day she knew I’d be coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably she intended to return much earlier, and somehow missed her +train,” he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +A look of relief greeted this idea. +</p> + +<p> +“How stupid of me not to think of that! When is the next train due?” +</p> + +<p> +Going to his desk, Lebrassa picked up a railway guide. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one at half-past eight,” he said a moment or so later. “As +you’ve quite half an hour to wait, a very sensible way of passing the +time would be by having some dinner. You must be both tired and hungry +after your long journey.” +</p> + +<p> +With some surprise Leslie looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know I’ve had a long journey?” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa was conscious of having made a slip. However, he covered it +up very quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“The porter said a lady from Paris was inquiring for Miss Seaton. +Naturally I assumed it was you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why was I sent here?” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of himself a wish to stand well with his visitor seized +Lebrassa—a desire to keep her from learning he had taken the scarlet +letter. +</p> + +<p> +“I rather expected a friend this evening. Probably the porter mixed up +the names,” he said suavely. +</p> + +<p> +In a friendly way Leslie smiled at him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very good of you to have taken so much trouble on my account,” +she said. +</p> + +<p> +She got to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s been a pleasure, not a trouble,” he assured her. “And I’m hoping +you’ll let me have that pleasure a little longer. I’m a solitary +animal with no defined social status—a sort of rogue elephant usually +left to my own devices. Will you relieve my solitude to-night, and +dine with me?” +</p> + +<p> +His request filled her with dismay. All she had heard earlier in the +evening concerning his sort and color flashed back to her mind. It was +one thing to stand up for a despised race on an impulse, but quite +another to dine tête-à-tête with a “nigger” under the gaze of +nearly two hundred people. +</p> + +<p> +This Leslie realized when Lebrassa issued his invitation. +</p> + +<p> +He saw the dismay on her face, and the bitter, cruel lines about his +mouth deepened. +</p> + +<p> +Then her innate sense of justice brought other thoughts to her head. +</p> + +<p> +It wasn’t fair to condemn him for a cause no fault of his own. His +manners and style were perfect. No prince could be better behaved. He +couldn’t help his color. He had been very hard hit once that evening. +If she refused his invitation, he would guess why. +</p> + +<p> +She cast a quick glance at him as he loomed, big, over her, his bored +face showing nothing of what was passing in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +To the girl he seemed vaguely familiar; as if behind him lurked the +shadow of some one she knew. She had the queer feeling, too, that she +must be kind to him, for a reason quite apart from the insults heaped +on him by that man in the hall; as if there was something between them +that demanded her pity and understanding. +</p> + +<p> +The feeling made her decide in his favor. +</p> + +<p> +Just when Lebrassa was expecting a refusal she looked up at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite grateful to you for asking me,” she said. “I don’t know a +soul here, and I hate going into a strange dining-room alone.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a gracious and cordial acceptance. +</p> + +<p> +It appeared to leave him a trifle nonplussed, almost as if he would +rather she had said “no” and so given him some grievance against her. +</p> + +<p> +When Leslie entered the dining-room she was well aware that her +unusual companion caused more than the average number of curious eyes +to be turned in her direction. As she went up the room, Lebrassa in +her wake, she knew two men, both slightly familiar, were scanning her +closely. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst Lebrassa gave his order to the waiter, Leslie studied the +couple. All at once it dawned on her they were the two whose +conversation she had overheard in the winter garden. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lebrassa, can you tell me who those men are?” she asked, glancing +at the watching couple. +</p> + +<p> +At her question his eyes narrowed. With veiled suspicion he watched +her, wondering how she knew his name and why she should ask him to +identify that special pair. +</p> + +<p> +“All I know about them is that the taller one is the man who tried to +pick a quarrel with me just before dinner,” he said cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d recognize <i>him</i>, but I was wondering who and what they were.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do my best to find out for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Beckoning the head waiter, Lebrassa made inquiries. +</p> + +<p> +“The taller one, sir, is a Captain Fletcher. The other a Mr. Mellors. +They came here this afternoon, from Liverpool. Just home from Northern +Nigeria.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa gave Leslie time to digest this information. +</p> + +<p> +Then, watching her closely, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m curious to know who told you my name.” +</p> + +<p> +The underlying tone of command in his voice surprised Leslie. She +wondered why he should take so seriously a subject she had broached +out of sheer nervousness. +</p> + +<p> +Considering the happenings of the evening, and that she was in a way +indebted to him for the trouble he had taken over Molly’s absence, she +had no wish that he should learn how very much she would rather <i>not</i> +have accepted his invitation. This, combined with nervousness, made +her treat him in the friendly way she would have treated a man of her +own class and color. +</p> + +<p> +Her face assumed a gravity equalling his. But in spite of all efforts +a dimple twitched into her left cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“They told me. In fact, they told me quite a lot of dreadful things +about you, but I was so worried that I’d forgotten all about it. +Seeing them reminded me.” +</p> + +<p> +The suspicious, thoughtful look in Lebrassa’s eyes deepened. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re on such friendly terms with them as to discuss me +wholesale, why did you put me to the trouble of finding out their +names?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know them any more than you do. Quite accidentally I +overheard them talking about you.” +</p> + +<p> +His dark, compelling eyes were fixed on her tired face as if all the +power of his will were behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“What were they saying about me?” he asked in a casual manner. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was too tired and worried to realize she was being “pumped.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were connecting you with some one called the Hyena, whoever he +may be. But I’ve forgotten most of what they said,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +With a little grating noise the mulatto’s teeth set. +</p> + +<p> +“They flattered me,” he said a moment later. +</p> + +<p> +“In what way?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Hyena, Miss Graham, is the nom-de-guerre of the most +blood-thirsty villain in West Africa, so-called from his tribal cry—a +man three Governments have been after for years. He’s the ruler of a +band of miscreants whose headquarters haven’t yet been discovered. A +savage African sultan with a price on his head, who is always ready to +take a hand in any and every rising against the whites, to raid and +burn and do murder, for no reason that can be discovered, unless a +sheer hatred of their color.” +</p> + +<p> +“He sounds a very terrible person. How absurd of them to think you +might be the man. Whatever made them do that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I really don’t know. However, if they persist in their opinion, I +shall have no difficulty in convincing them otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +As the meal went on he sat listening to Leslie’s voice, watching her +small, white hands. A wild desire to laugh aloud seized him as he +realized she was his enemy, whom he had sworn to kill, the daughter of +a man who had injured him irreparably. This scrap of a girl who had +spoken in defence of <i>him</i> and his color; who rather than hurt his +feelings had swallowed her pride and accepted his invitation to +dinner. +</p> + +<p> +He studied her closely. In no way did she resemble her dead father. +The girl Cooper had married was more like that thief and murderer. +</p> + +<p> +Then a surge of wild negro hatred went coursing through Lebrassa at +the thought of who and what Leslie was. With it came the desire to +take her by the throat and wring the life out of her. +</p> + +<p> +And through the surge of savage anger her voice reached him, talking +in a frank, friendly manner, and gradually the wild flood subsided, +leaving him chill and thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he was watching her in a strained, anxious way, thankful +that only he knew the alias Lionel de Tourville had adopted, of the +fact of the son’s death, and of the existence of this daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Then he remembered that Cooper had married her friend. The negro might +gather enough to connect the man whose visit to the hotel he, +Lebrassa, had spoken of, and this girl. +</p> + +<p> +The idea made the lines of thought on his powerful face deepen. +</p> + +<p> +A further remark of Leslie’s penetrated the maze in which his mind was +moving. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nearly half past eight,” she was saying with an air of +suppressed relief. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be in the hall +when Miss Seaton comes in.” +</p> + +<p> +Getting to her feet, with a friendly nod she left the table. +</p> + +<p> +As she went down the room, Lebrassa stood with his eyes on her. +</p> + +<p> +For a brief half hour a girl of a type as far beyond his reach as the +stars, had sat and talked to him just as if he were as other men. +</p> + +<p> +Lionel de Tourville’s daughter! +</p> + +<p> +Loath to leave the table that seemed still sweet with her presence, he +seated himself again. +</p> + +<p> +A violet, that must have dropped from the bunch on her shoulder, lay +half hidden in a dish of fruit. +</p> + +<p> +Picking it out he held it almost caressingly. The faint perfume +reached him. For a time he looked at the little flower thoughtfully. +Then he crushed it fiercely, rubbing it up and down between his thumb +and finger until only a purple stain remained. Yet the scent was +sweeter and stronger than ever. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Our hopes are wild imaginings,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Our schemes are airy castles.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Leslie Graham</span> and Molly Seaton were comrades of some years’ +standing, who had met under unusual circumstances. Business had taken +Molly to one of the big London railway stations. On a bench in the +waiting room she noticed a child sitting all alone. The little girl +looked worried, so Molly had asked what the matter was. A sweet voice +that had taken Molly’s gentle heart by storm had explained the +situation. +</p> + +<p> +That day she and her father had arrived in England from New Zealand. +He had left her in the station while he went to transact some business +outside. He had said he would not be more than an hour, and she was to +wait on the seat until he came back. Three hours had passed and he had +not returned. +</p> + +<p> +That night a black-haired little girl cried herself to sleep in +Molly’s arms, in a bed-sitting-room Brixton way, and the elder Leslie +Graham’s disappearance had been reported to the police. +</p> + +<p> +A week passed, but nothing was heard of him. Molly was advised to get +rid of the child. This she refused to do, for Leslie clung to her as +the one sure thing in a world suddenly turned upside down. +</p> + +<p> +Very little of the lost man’s history could be found out, and that +little was mostly what his daughter had to tell. Leslie had spent the +first ten years of her life in a Spanish convent. She had not seen her +father until two years ago when he had taken her from school to the +store in New Zealand where he was employed. Beyond the fact that he +belonged to the army of educated wastrels drifting about the world, +nothing more was culled. It was more than likely the name was an +assumed one, for Leslie had never heard of any relatives—except a +brother who had died before she was born. +</p> + +<p> +A deserted child is not of rare occurrence or much account. Molly was +advised to let her protegée go to the poorhouse. She refused to do +so. Instead, for two years she kept the little girl. +</p> + +<p> +When Leslie was fourteen, she secured employment as a typist in +Molly’s office, but she did not rest long in this position. Her +knowledge of languages stood her in good stead. She quickly +out-distanced her benefactress in both position and salary. At sixteen +she was foreign correspondence clerk in the shipping house where they +were both employed. +</p> + +<p> +When Leslie was eighteen, Molly, never very strong, was seriously ill. +For three months the younger girl went to the office alone and Molly +stayed at home fretting over her uselessness. +</p> + +<p> +However, with the summer, things looked up again. +</p> + +<p> +Then winter came, and, with it, the darkest days of all. +</p> + +<p> +Molly was ill again, so ill that she had to leave London, if possible +go to the South of France. And just when money was most needed their +firm amalgamated with another and Leslie was numbered with the +unemployed. Molly was sent to Harrogate. Leslie went to Paris as a +teacher in a school of languages, the first post that presented +itself. And she went wondering what would happen when their savings +ran out, for the care Molly needed could not be got out of two pounds +a week. +</p> + +<p> +Then the sky cleared again, and Leslie sat in the hall of the hotel in +a fever of impatience waiting to impress upon the still truant Molly +the greatness of this stroke of luck. +</p> + +<p> +Full of suppressed excitement she watched the hands of the clock creep +slowly round to half-past eight. She wondered why Molly had not wired +to account for her absence, but she knew her friend’s easily agitated +and flustered ways too well to take much notice of this. +</p> + +<p> +As Fletcher and Mellors left the dining-room, the sight of Leslie +sitting small and erect with eyes for nothing beyond the clock and the +entrance, brought the Captain to a halt. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you she’s no more a friend of that villain’s than I am,” he +said with some heat. “Does she look the sort of girl to take up with a +nigger? He’s taken advantage of her impulsive action and thrust +himself upon her, and she’s too much of a child to know how to get out +of the situation. As far as I can see she hasn’t a friend in the +place. If rumor is to be believed one girl from here has just gone and +made an unholy mess of her life by marrying a nigger. At the risk of a +snub, I’ll give that kid a word in season.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let her alone,” Mellors replied. “If she has no more respect for +herself than to be seen with Lebrassa, she’s not worth troubling +about.” +</p> + +<p> +“If she were ten years older I wouldn’t give the matter a second +thought. But a child like that, loose on the world, is everybody’s +concern.” +</p> + +<p> +Mellors shrugged his shoulders. Captain Lindsay Fletcher crossed the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +A voice well above her head brought Leslie’s gaze back from the +entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“I owe you an apology,” it said in a conciliatory tone. “I’d no idea +you were standing within earshot on that occasion before dinner, or I +wouldn’t have expressed myself quite so forcibly.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher experienced a nervous tremor as two vivid purple eyes were +switched on him. He stood expecting the snub he had laid himself open +to. +</p> + +<p> +“You owe me no apology,” she said. “But you certainly owe one to the +people you were so rude to.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d a reason for what I said. But had I known Lebrassa was a friend +of yours I shouldn’t have said a word.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can hardly claim Mr. Lebrassa as a friend—except perhaps a friend +in need.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher braced himself up. +</p> + +<p> +“For a friend in need you’d be wiser to stick to your own sort and not +apply to the black people here. I’ve had dealings with niggers for +over twelve years and the less white women have to do with them the +better. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll avoid Lebrassa. If he +endeavors to thrust himself on you, I shall be only too pleased if +you’ll use me as an excuse.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was dumbfounded. +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you come and talk to me?” she managed to gasp. “The man you +call a ‘nigger’ at least knows how to behave himself properly.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher stuck to his guns. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly our two meetings can’t have impressed you favorably. As +your opinion of me can’t be any worse than it is, I may as well have +my say out. To begin with, this Lebrassa is half a negro, he’s known +to be a bad lot, he—” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s not the Hyena, anyhow, because he told me so himself.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tense silence as Fletcher realized all it meant if +Lebrassa had an inkling of his suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +He had deemed it improbable that the girl sitting in the winter garden +had heard or put any meaning to his conversation with Mellors. With an +alarming rush it dawned on him she had. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely you’ve not added to your follies by telling Lebrassa what I +was saying to Mellors?” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time it occurred to Leslie that she ought not to have +repeated the conversation she had overheard accidentally. The fact +that she had, took all anger from her. The sudden pallor of her face +told Fletcher the worst before she met his angry gaze unflinchingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, but—I did.” +</p> + +<p> +All the pretty color had faded from her cheeks, all the brightness +from her eyes. For the first time he realized how tired and worried +she was. The knowledge made him put his own anger and sense of defeat +in the background. +</p> + +<p> +The few cold, wrathful words Leslie was expecting did not come. +</p> + +<p> +Instead, Fletcher seated himself beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you need a friend now if ever you did. Won’t you tell me what +the trouble is?” he asked in a kindly tone. +</p> + +<p> +His unexpected change of front brought a tremor to her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I… I’ve been waiting for a friend ever since a quarter to seven. In +spite of what Mr. Lebrassa says, I think something must have happened +to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did Lebrassa say?” +</p> + +<p> +“That she must have missed the Liverpool train and wouldn’t be here +before half-past eight. But it’s a quarter to nine and… and she still +hasn’t come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably the train’s late. They often are.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t make out why she went at all, the very day she knew I’d +be coming.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then Fletcher’s only idea was to comfort his companion and to +stay with her until the arrival of the belated friend put her into +safe hands. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no accounting for what some people will do,” he said, +pouncing on the first topic of conversation that came to his mind. +“One of my reasons for speaking to you now was because of what’s been +going on here. There was a girl staying in this place, all alone as +you seemed to be. She got friendly with one of these niggers, a man +named Cooper, Lebrassa’s partner in fact, not knowing that to give +their sort an inch means they’ll try for an ell. This Cooper got such +a hold over her that rumor says she’s eloped with him. You wouldn’t +care for people to say the things about you that are being said about +this Miss Seaton. And it started—” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you talking about? Molly wouldn’t elope with a nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +This sudden interruption made Fletcher stop abruptly. As he gazed at +Leslie’s blank, unbelieving face, the truth of the situation dawned on +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, I’d no idea she was your friend,” he said quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell the manager to come,” Leslie said sharply. “I’ll ask him about +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll tell you the same thing, child. The place is buzzing with the +scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +In a bewildered way, she got to her feet. In her weary mind there was +only one idea. This man, who had been saying things against people all +evening, had now started on Molly. Some one must be found who would +contradict his statements. +</p> + +<p> +White and dazed, Leslie stood looking for a face she knew. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing Lebrassa sauntering across the hall made her start in his +direction. Guessing where she was going, Fletcher followed. At that +moment only the girl’s reputation had any place in his mind; he did +not wish her to be seen for a second time alone with the mulatto. +</p> + +<p> +Her anxious voice made the latter turn around. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lebrassa, is it true Miss Seaton has eloped with your partner?” +</p> + +<p> +Ignoring Fletcher, he glanced at Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +“I regret to say it is true, Miss Graham,” he said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you knew all the time!” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard it rumored only. It’s been said before without foundation. In +case it shouldn’t be true this time, I took the liberty of asking you +to dine with me. The subject would have been freely discussed by the +white people here and you might have been alarmed unnecessarily.” +</p> + +<p> +The episode of the dinner invitation was turned off with a skill and +diplomacy that left Fletcher inwardly fuming. He knew Lebrassa had +noted his interview with Leslie. Now, the mulatto had construed his +invitation into consideration for the girl. Moreover, he had succeeded +in making him, Fletcher, appear an even greater cad in her sight. +</p> + +<p> +As he glanced from the worried, anxious girl to the mulatto, back to +his mind flashed a remark made at a neighboring table during +dinner—to the effect that Lebrassa had seemed as anxious for Molly +Seaton to marry Cooper, as Cooper had been to marry the girl; in fact +he had done his best to assist the negro toward this end. +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of something lying behind it all suddenly seized Fletcher. +And the fact of Lebrassa standing cool and unconcerned when he must +know he was under suspicion, made the Englishman doubt the theory he +was evolving. +</p> + +<p> +Yet Fletcher could not quite free himself of the idea that Lebrassa +might be the “wanted” man; his present behavior savored of the Hyena’s +reckless daring. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie gazed back at Lebrassa’s dark, unmoved face almost defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe it. Molly wouldn’t marry a… a colored man.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be a little difficult to believe, but it’s true nevertheless, +for I’ve just had a telegram from Cooper, my partner, now her husband, +telling me they were married in Liverpool this morning by special +license.” +</p> + +<p> +“You let her marry a—nigger!” +</p> + +<p> +The amazed disgust in Leslie’s voice brought a flicker of amusement to +the mulatto’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“You forget I’m a ‘nigger’ myself, Miss Graham. Cooper is wealthy. If +your friend were willing to overlook his color it was hardly for me to +interfere.” +</p> + +<p> +In stunned bewilderment Leslie looked from one man to the other. Then, +with an effort she pulled herself together. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry to have troubled you both,” she said in a stiff, strained +manner. “I must apologize for doubting what you both said, but it +was—rather unexpected.” +</p> + +<p> +Small and erect, with only the dazed pallor of her face to show what a +blow the news had been, she crossed the hall, making for the refuge of +her bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +Ignoring each other completely, the two men watched her until she was +lost round a bend in the stairs. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +CHAPTER VI +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>If our best intentions pave the way</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>To a place that is somewhat hot,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Can our worst intentions lead us, say,</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>To a still more sultry spot?</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">London</span> was enveloped in a lowering gray cloud. All day a cold rain +had been pouring down, showing no signs of abating as the afternoon +wore on. +</p> + +<p> +At about six o’clock, when shops and offices were closing, one figure +showed up in sharp contrast to the rest of the hurrying pedestrians: +that of a girl who went along at a slow walk, with hands thrust deep +into the pockets of her mackintosh. +</p> + +<p> +Four months had passed since the news of Molly Seaton’s elopement had +fallen with the suddenness of a thunderbolt on Leslie Graham. +</p> + +<p> +The following day she had left the hotel. Fletcher had tried to find +out her address and more about her, but he learned nothing except that +she had come from Paris. Lebrassa had taken Leslie’s departure more +coolly. Within a week he, himself, had left the hotel for West Africa. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Atherley kept Fletcher posted on Essel Lebrassa’s every movement. +At length the captain heard that the mulatto was again visiting +England. This news shattered most of the hopes concerning the Hyena. +Moreover, the intervening correspondence had almost proved that +Lebrassa was nothing more than the senior partner of the firm of +“Lebrassa & Cooper,” whose long absences were due only to business and +pleasure trips to Europe and America. +</p> + +<p> +However, Fletcher decided to have the mulatto watched during his visit +to England, await his return to Africa and travel back by the same +boat. The captain wanted to satisfy himself completely that Lebrassa +was only the wealthy half-breed trader whose orgies had made him +notorious throughout the Bight of Biafra. +</p> + +<p> +To Leslie the months had passed very slowly. She had returned to Paris +hoping to hear something from Molly. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s remark, “Cooper is wealthy,” was constantly before her. +Sometimes she wondered if this could be the explanation. +</p> + +<p> +As the post in Marseilles had fallen through owing to her lack of a +chaperon, at the end of a few weeks Leslie had returned to London, to +take a position in an office there. Then, just when the wound was +healing a little, a letter came from Molly in Africa, forwarded from +Leslie’s Paris address. It had reached her the previous morning, and +the contents had been in her mind ever since. +</p> + +<p> +It was all a mistake! Molly had never had her letter! She had only +married that dreadful man in order to be no further burden on her, +Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +Thoughts went in steady procession through Leslie’s brain, drummed and +marshaled by one quivering, heartbroken cry. +</p> + +<p> +“How <i>did</i> the letter go astray?” +</p> + +<p> +It was all too terrible! Poor, sensitive little Molly tied for life to +a nigger. All because a letter had not reached its destination! +</p> + +<p> +Through mud and rain Leslie trudged on, trying to think the matter out +calmly, too preoccupied to notice a man lingering outside her office, +who, on seeing her, had followed in her wake. +</p> + +<p> +She turned into a cheap café for a cup of tea. Once seated, awaiting +the arrival of her order, she drew out Molly’s letter and read it +through again. +</p> + +<p> +It bore a West African address and ran as follows: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Dear little Leslie</i>, +</p> + +<p> +What years, centuries, it seems since I last called you that. And it’s +not more than six months! I meant to drop out of your life +entirely—to tell you nothing. I knew you’d hear sooner or later what +had happened. And I hoped you’d despise me and forget all about me. I +couldn’t be a drag on you any longer, dear. When you mentioned that +position in Marseilles, I cried with relief. And I prayed that you +would get it. But you never wrote. So I guessed it had fallen through. +You could swim alone, but the weight of me would swamp you. I used to +sit thinking until my head ached, trying to find a way out. +</p> + +<p> +Then a way came. Such a way! +</p> + +<p> +I think I must have died and gone to hell. A hell full of negroes. +They are all around me. I can’t get away from them. And so hideously +real. So real that it makes me scream. Then one, my husband, the +constant and most vivid of them all, comes and kisses me and asks me +what the matter is! +</p> + +<p> +I always wonder how I brought myself to marry him, but the color bar +did not seem so insurmountable then. And I thought the climate would +kill me. But it hasn’t. I’ve only been married four months and I can’t +stand it. I want to come back to England, but my husband won’t hear of +it. Everything is mine for the asking—everything except a little time +away from him, the only thing I want. +</p> + +<p> +He says I may have one of my girl friends out here if I wish. Leslie, +in the horror of it all I turn to you. I want you to come out and stay +with me before I go absolutely mad. I want one little bit of the old +world, the white world, to cling to. Some one to talk to who is not +black, brown or yellow. Some one white who will not despise me. I want +to make you come and I know it’s wrong. If you come to me the few +white women in the place will cut you. And the men will do the same. +Or worse still, look at you in a way that makes you feel you’ve lost +something that can never be regained. If I were not so weak and +cowardly I’d bear my burden alone, or go down to the river and put an +end to everything. But I can’t. I’m afraid of both. So afraid that I +write to you, to drag you down to the depths of my black hell. +</p> + +<p> +I want to tempt you, to make you come. You have been my strength for +so long. Think of all the strange wild sights you would see, all the +glories of the tropics. I am writing this out on the balcony, in the +moonlight. Such a moon, such a mass of molten glory that I almost +forget the price! And such stars! Great things of silver set in a low +arch of purple velvet. So near to the earth too, that by standing on +my chair I fancy I could touch them. On the skyline is the forest, +dark and uncanny, fearsome and haunted, black against a flood of +moonlight. The wind comes moaning down from the unknown, bringing the +whispering sigh of a hundred exotic trees, the scent of orange blossom +and magnolia and a dozen other strange, languorous perfumes. They +smother the scent of the roses growing round the balcony, and I am +glad. It is all white—white with a perfect whiteness. And +black—black with an utter everlasting blackness. +</p> + +<p> +Below at the foot of the hill are the twinkling lights of the town, +set in a bower of vegetation. Farther away are bonfires blazing in the +native quarter, showing up scattered mud huts and a host of savage +figures. Beyond is the river, all white and still and peaceful. And +the sounds that drift up to me here! The splash and ripple of the +silvered water, the hoot of an owl, the uncanny whispering rustle of +the bamboos, the hoarse bellow of a distant crocodile, the beating of +tom-toms, wild negro melodies, the stealthy pad of unshod feet as the +servants go to and fro, and the hundred wild, weird whispers that go +to make up tropical night. +</p> + +<p> +But, above all, my husband’s voice talking to his partner. Leslie, +don’t come, you’ll be a pariah too. +</p> + +<p> +My husband’s partner, Mr. Lebrassa, says he saw you in Harrogate, at +the hotel! Ever since he told me I have been wondering why you came. +He said you thought I would be expecting you! It has puzzled me so +much. I can think of nothing else. He has been so kind to me since I +came here. He’s not a bit like my husband, but almost an Englishman. +This used to be his bungalow, but he has given it over to Horten, my +husband, because it is higher and healthier and better for me than +down over the factory where Horten used to be. He’s always trying to +make my lot easier. I know he suggested I ought to have a companion, +that being alone all day when my husband was at the factory was not +good for me. But that was only the nice way to put it. I think he +knows the long evenings alone with Horten are getting more than I can +stand. He leaves for England the day after to-morrow, by the same boat +as this letter. I told him I’d written to the one friend who loved me +enough to overlook what I had done, and perhaps come out here and stay +with me. He asked me who that was and I told him your name and where +you were living. Then he said he’d met and talked to you at the hotel +the very day I was married! He is only going to stay a few weeks in +England, and if you can forget the loss of caste and come out here to +me he will be able to look after you. It <i>is</i> selfish of me to ask +you, to try and pull you down to what I am now, but the horror of it +all is getting more than I can bear alone. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie darling, don’t take any notice of my ravings, stay where you +are. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Molly</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +As Leslie sat brooding on the letter, some one halting at her table +brought her mind back to the present. Glancing up she stayed staring +in open surprise at the man standing beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Mr. Lebrassa, how did you get here?” she asked. “I was just +reading about you—quite nice things.” +</p> + +<p> +Her greeting made the cruel lines about his mouth relax a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Were you? I’m glad of that. People as a rule haven’t a good word to +say for me. And what would <i>you</i> say if I told you I’d been +cold-bloodedly stalking you—stalking you with intent to capture?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say I knew why.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why then?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve just heard from my friend, saying she’d given you my Paris +address. I could never make out why she wasn’t at the hotel that +night, and it seems she never got my letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it so important that she’d have postponed her wedding in order to +wait for you?” +</p> + +<p> +It was on the tip of Leslie’s tongue to say that, had she arrived +twelve hours sooner at the hotel, there would have been no wedding. To +explain forcibly and pointedly to Lebrassa it was <i>not</i> Cooper’s money +that had made Molly commit such a degrading action. +</p> + +<p> +But Molly was married. No amount of explanation could undo that. It +was no use going over matters nothing could rectify, which this man +might repeat to his partner, and perhaps make Molly’s lot even worse. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a business letter and of importance to both of us,” she +answered. +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief pause. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was the first to break it. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you sit down?” she asked rather nervously. “There’s a lot I +want to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Seating himself, Lebrassa stayed watching her in brooding silence. +Then suddenly he put a hand on her soaked raincoat. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you sitting in that wet thing?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +At his touch, she drew back quickly. Her action made him laugh in a +savage, bitter manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes I wonder what I should have been like if I hadn’t been—a +nigger,” he said in a dreary manner. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie knew she had hurt him by shrinking from his touch. +</p> + +<p> +She poured herself out a cup of tea, and as she drank it she watched +his hand which lay, brown and powerful, on the table. +</p> + +<p> +Just then her one idea was to make amends for the pain she had +unwittingly inflicted. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, she laid her hand on his. Just for a moment it settled on +his dark one, and was off again with the nervous flutter of a +butterfly. The touch, light and slight as it was, made him suddenly +shiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lebrassa, something is worrying you,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled, a smile that made Leslie’s heart ache with its +hopelessness. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing more than what has worried me for the last thirty-six +years. I thought I’d got over it, but I find I haven’t—quite.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie said nothing. But now she realized what his “worry” was. +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell me what Mrs. Cooper had to say to you? I can make a fair +guess,” he went on quickly. “And if you take my advice—don’t go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve made up my mind to go,” she replied. “I sent a cablegram this +afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand myself,” he answered grimly. +</p> + +<p> +Then once more he lapsed into brooding silence. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +CHAPTER VII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>In my ears, like distant washing</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>Of the surf upon the shore,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Drones a murmur, faintly splashing,</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>’Tis the splash of Charon’s oar.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Two</span> hours later Leslie was sitting before a gas fire in a bedroom of +a Bloomsbury boarding-house. During the last few months two men, both +strangers, both met in the most casual manner, both entirely different +from any who had come into her life before, had taken it upon +themselves to give her advice. And, in each case, she had preferred +her own immature judgment. Moreover, Mr. Lebrassa had not taken any +part of the ell mentioned by Captain Fletcher. The mulatto had not +shown any desire to meet her again, or invited her out to dinner or a +theater, or even attempted to pay for her tea, as she had feared he +might. He had merely said that, if she insisted on going to Mrs. +Cooper, he had been instructed to book a passage for her and take +charge of her on the way out. And he had left saying he would write +and let her know the boat and the time of sailing, and would meet her +in Liverpool, if she persisted in her foolish decision. +</p> + +<p> +About a month later Leslie stepped out of a train in one of the +principal Liverpool stations. +</p> + +<p> +“You see I’ve come, Mr. Lebrassa, in spite of your advice,” was her +greeting to the man who came forward to meet her. +</p> + +<p> +“So I see, but it’s still not too late to turn back.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never intended to do anything but go from the moment I got that +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +Rather abruptly he turned away to see after her luggage. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you rather walk or ride down to the boat, Miss Graham?” he +asked when this was disposed of. “We’ve two hours yet before sailing; +I suggest walking so that you can take a last, long, lingering +farewell of England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why a last farewell?” +</p> + +<p> +“West Africa, I fancy, has a higher European death rate than any place +on earth. Haven’t you heard our rhyme? +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“ ‘Beware, take care of the Bight of Benin,</span><br> +<span class="i0">Where for one that comes out there are forty stay in.’ ”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“But I’m not going there,” she replied. “I’m going to the Bight of +Biafra.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s next door.” +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>are</i> cheerful. I’d better walk and make the most of being alive +now, for you seem to think I’m going to swell the forty. Who knows? I +may prove to be the fortunate one who comes out.” +</p> + +<p> +In a grim way, Lebrassa smiled. Then he piloted his charge out of the +busy station into the street beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad I’m going to Molly,” Leslie said. “I’d put up with +anything to be with her.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa, however, appeared to be lost in thoughts of his own. For the +next few minutes he answered her remarks in a very haphazard manner. +Presently, in one of the main thoroughfares, a large florist’s shop +brought him to a halt. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Graham, may I buy you a flower before you leave England?” +</p> + +<p> +His request was followed by a moment’s silence. Then Leslie thought of +the inch that had never been exceeded. +</p> + +<p> +“What a nice idea,” she said. “It’ll take away the taste of that +dreadful Bight of Benin you spoke about.” +</p> + +<p> +On entering the shop Lebrassa appeared to want rosebuds—small white +rosebuds, and only one of these. But he had every specimen in the +place brought out for his inspection. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie watched him as he went over them, examining each carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very difficult to please,” she said at length. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t find what I want—one with just two petals curled back, quite +white and without a flaw.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about this?” she inquired, putting a finger on a perfect +specimen he had just discarded. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not absolutely white. The one I want must have no tinge of +color.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really suitable for my funeral wreath,” she suggested. +</p> + +<p> +In a grim, mirthless manner he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“That I’ve not quite decided,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +He continued his search. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” he said at length, placing a flower on the counter before +her. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie pinned it on her coat, in a contemplative way he watched +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Out in Africa I’ve a rose garden,” he said presently. “It has been my +hobby and recreation for nearly twenty years. But I’ve never had my +flowers quite white. They’ve always had a tinge of color. Some day, +perhaps, you may see it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it near Calabar?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Near Calabar!” he echoed. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in a savage manner, he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s some distance from Calabar,” he finished with peculiar emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +For some reason she could not fathom, Leslie shivered. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +CHAPTER VIII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>For now they are so few indeed</i></span><br> +<span class="i1">(<i>Not more than three in all</i>)</span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Who e’er will think of me or heed</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>What fate may me befall.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">On</span> board the S.S. <i>Batava</i>, outward bound for West Africa, all was +bustle and confusion. On the lower deck a couple of men stood, one of +whom was watching the passengers coming off the last tender. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he remarked presently, “your little girl with the ‘clematis’ +eyes married him in spite of the word in season.” +</p> + +<p> +The remark made Captain Fletcher turn sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil are you talking about?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Here comes your latest Hyena with the little white lamb you were so +anxious about.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s gaze followed Mellors’. He saw a girl with a pair of eyes +that he, in a weak and sentimental moment, had likened to a clematis. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor kid! She must have been all alone in the world or that wouldn’t +have happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s no need for you to waste any further thought or +sympathy on her,” Mellors replied. “She looks perfectly pleased with +her bargain. But it’s surprising what some women will swallow provided +it’s sufficiently gilded.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher watched the two coming along the deck. Lebrassa was the first +to see him and over his dark face there crept a vestige of sardonic +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +He made some remark to Leslie that brought her attention to the two +men. +</p> + +<p> +For an instant the vivid eyes that had haunted Fletcher for the last +few months looked straight at him. But the girl made no acknowledgment +of his presence, unless the sudden rush of color to her face counted +as such. +</p> + +<p> +“The cut direct,” Mellors murmured as she passed on. +</p> + +<p> +There he was wrong. It was the act of a child caught doing what it +knew it ought not to do, moreover, what it had been told not to do, +very anxious to attract no further attention to itself. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s remark, “There are two friends of yours,” had made Leslie +look round in quick curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher and Mellors were the last people she had expected to see. She +knew they had recognized her. With an unpleasant rush their presence +brought back every word Fletcher had said about colored men. And the +look of contempt on Mellors’ face told her, for the first time, what +she might have to put up with on the voyage out, and what certainly +would be her lot in Calabar. +</p> + +<p> +By the time she was two steps away it dawned on her that she might +have saved herself some future unpleasantness had she given Fletcher +the barest recognition. Having once cut him she could hardly smile +upon him the next time they met. Then all he had said about Lebrassa, +which had proved absolutely false, made her glad she had treated him +in the way he deserved. +</p> + +<p> +A prey to a variety of emotions, Fletcher watched her go, the +principal being that their former meetings had left her with such an +unfavorable impression of himself that his advice counted for nothing. +</p> + +<p> +In gloomy silence he stood watching her retreating figure, then he +left his friend and went to the saloon to study the passenger list. +</p> + +<p> +He returned to Mellors with a buoyancy in his step that had not been +there when he left. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re wrong,” he said. “She’s not married to that nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the deuce is she doing with him then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to know what he’s doing with her,” Fletcher replied, “because +she’s going to Calabar.” +</p> + +<p> +For the rest of the day Fletcher kept a sharp lookout for Leslie, but +he saw nothing more of her. Out in the Irish Sea the worst gale of the +season was raging, and all but the most seasoned travelers sought the +refuge of their cabins. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon about two days later, he came across what looked to be a +bundle of rugs stretched out on a deck chair. As he neared it, it took +shape and became a girl asleep in the sun. The sight brought him to an +abrupt halt, for he had determined to make, not one, but many efforts +to gain the confidence of this friendless little girl, and the +opportunity seemed favorable. +</p> + +<p> +Leaning on a rail near, he waited until Leslie awoke. +</p> + +<p> +All at once she opened her eyes, but seeing him on guard there, closed +them again before he had time to speak. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher knew she had seen him. Also, he knew she was now keeping her +eyes shut deliberately, for the sole purpose of not seeing him. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was very conscious of the big man leaning against the rail +near. Angrily she wondered why he should take it upon himself to stand +just there, and she was waiting for him to move before she sat up. +</p> + +<p> +She had made up her mind to ignore everybody on board except Lebrassa. +Already her destination was being whispered about. To feel herself +despised and an object of contempt was a new sensation. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher had heard rumors of where she was going, and it had made him +all the more determined to come between her and her folly. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the vigorous ringing of the tea bell, almost in her ear, +made any further pretense impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie sat up, ready for the fray, knowing Fletcher was going to speak +to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’re feeling better, Miss Graham,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite well, thank you,” she replied in a frosty manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you must have forgotten me,” he continued, ignoring her icy +tone, “so I’ve taken the liberty of recalling myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember seeing you in Harrogate.” +</p> + +<p> +The reply was not encouraging. It said plainly she had no desire for +his acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s jaw set in the way it did when he was leading a forlorn +hope. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to Calabar,” he said stiffly. “If I can be of any use to +you either there or during the voyage, I’m always at your service.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I shall have to avail myself of your offer,” she said +in a cutting one. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher was sorry he had spoken. He had wanted her to know she had at +least one friend on board, and he had only succeeded in annoying her. +</p> + +<p> +“May I tell the steward to bring you some tea?” he asked prior to +departure. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lebrassa will do that.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher knew she had said this purposely, to show him how much either +he, his opinion, or advice were worth in her estimation. +</p> + +<p> +For three days Leslie pursued her own way, ignoring everybody but +Lebrassa, and herself ignored by most people. +</p> + +<p> +The climax came the evening before the steamer reached Grand Canary. +</p> + +<p> +A dance was taking place on the saloon deck, and the strains of the +music were wafted over the calm, starlit sea. Leslie was alone on the +deserted lower deck, gazing rather wistfully over the shrouded water. +</p> + +<p> +She was learning that the lot of a pariah is not enviable. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a figure loomed up beside her with a silence that made her +jump and broke the current of her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“How you made me jump, Mr. Lebrassa,” she said, smiling up at him. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you thinking about, all alone here?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I was thinking—how nice and quiet it was.” +</p> + +<p> +The reply made Lebrassa smile. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of her trying position no word of complaint had ever passed +the girl’s lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you were not thinking you were just the least bit sorry you +hadn’t taken my advice and stayed in England?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I be?” she asked, almost defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I was afraid you were beginning to find things a bit changed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d made up my mind to all that before I left England. It would be +rather foolish to start worrying now, wouldn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you always so brave and loyal?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing very brave in giving up a hard life for an easy one.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you think your life with Mrs. Cooper will be easy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I shan’t have to turn out every morning, whether I’m in the +mood for it or not. And in past days Molly was awfully good to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He made no reply. Leaning against the rail, with stifled, unwilling +tenderness he watched her small, brave face. +</p> + +<p> +“May I do my poor best to entertain you, Miss Graham?” he said at +length. “The other day you were boasting of your prowess as a +chess-player. May I challenge you to mortal combat?” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t be combat at all, but simple slaughter. I shall be wiped out +of existence in the first round.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we fight over there?” he asked, indicating a lamp in a remote +and secluded corner. “Just the two of us alone, mortal enemies, to the +death. Then, when I’ve killed you I can drop you overboard and no one +will be any the wiser.” +</p> + +<p> +“How vicious you sound! Hankering after bloodshed.” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget I’m half a savage.” +</p> + +<p> +In a gentle, understanding manner Leslie smiled at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t forget because I never thought you were.” +</p> + +<p> +Rather abruptly Lebrassa turned away to fetch the chess-board and the +pieces. Leslie went across to the lighted corner and stood there +watching the figures flitting on the upper deck. +</p> + +<p> +Up there were women who turned their backs on her, and men who did the +same or, worse still, whispered and laughed and tried to talk to her. +</p> + +<p> +As the music struck up afresh she turned her back on the scene, and +picking up a book from one of the chairs looked at it with eyes too +blurred with tears to distinguish the letters. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, approaching footsteps made her glance round, thinking it +was Lebrassa. But when her gaze fell on the figure coming along the +deck, she looked away again very quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The newcomer was a stout, red-faced man—one of those who laughed and +whispered and tried to talk to her. +</p> + +<p> +Halting at her side, he leant over her in a most familiar manner. +</p> + +<p> +“What about this dance, Miss Graham?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t dance,” she said curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now I come to think of it, I don’t seem to have seen you +hopping round with that nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie plunged again into her book, ignoring him completely. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not a very sociable sort,” he said, “and I’ve seen you talking +nineteen to the dozen to that Lebrassa.” +</p> + +<p> +It was evident he meant to stay. Deliberately Leslie closed her book +and was in the act of moving away when he seized one of her bare arms +and, despite her struggles, kept her where she was. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not in such a dashed hurry to run away when that nigger comes +and talks to you,” he said, “so you needn’t put on any airs with me.” +</p> + +<p> +The unexpected contact of his coarse, hot hand on her bare flesh made +her give a little gasping scream. The sound reached Fletcher just as +he was leaving the smoke-room. It brought him to a halt and made him +look sharply along the deserted deck. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing the couple under the lamp, he turned swiftly in that +direction. +</p> + +<p> +A voice, hoarse with suppressed anger, made the man loose Leslie’s +arm. +</p> + +<p> +“You damned skunk!” it said. “How dare you come and annoy this lady. +If I catch you at it again I’ll thrash the life out of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Gripping the man’s shoulder, Fletcher sent him swinging across the +deck. +</p> + +<p> +In Leslie’s mind was the memory of her last interview with Fletcher. +Under his gaze all speech fled. Then, just as she was pulling herself +together, his voice scattered her thoughts again. +</p> + +<p> +“At the risk of annoying you again, I must say it’s not wise of you to +stand about alone on deck at night. Considering the circumstances, you +lay yourself open to that sort of thing. And while I’m talking, let me +say I think you’re very foolish to ignore everybody but Lebrassa. I +know half a dozen men on board you could be friendly with and who +wouldn’t take advantage of your peculiar position.” +</p> + +<p> +“I… I don’t want to know any one.” +</p> + +<p> +Into the voice of the pariah crept the least suspicion of tears. +</p> + +<p> +“I can quite understand that,” Fletcher replied. “But you’re putting +Lebrassa in a very unfair position. You can’t realize what you’re +doing or you wouldn’t act in such a foolish manner. What thoughts +would come into any man’s head if you were with him as much as you are +with this Lebrassa? In the words of the Americans, he’d think you’d +‘fallen for him.’ I’ve seen enough of Lebrassa to know he can behave +himself when he wants, and in you he knows he’s dealing with some one +very different from the women who usually seek out a man of his sort. +But if he should forget himself, you’ve only yourself to blame. I’m +sorry to have to speak so plainly. And if you should consider my +advice worth taking I’m always ready to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +Quickly Fletcher turned away, fearing the storm that might break on +his offending head. +</p> + +<p> +His words left Leslie stunned and petrified. +</p> + +<p> +The idea that she might be leading Lebrassa to think she loved him, +filled her with horror. +</p> + +<p> +The mulatto’s voice roused her from her stunned bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“I must apologize for being so long, Miss Graham, but I had some +difficulty in collecting the weapons together.” +</p> + +<p> +His bored, cultured voice that, in all her experience of him, had +never varied one whit, comforted her a little. Sitting down, she +watched him arrange the pieces, answering his remarks in a preoccupied +manner. +</p> + +<p> +The game started. But Leslie was too full of what Fletcher had said to +give her whole attention to it. +</p> + +<p> +Closely Lebrassa watched her. At once he noticed she was perturbed and +unusually silent. +</p> + +<p> +During his absence something had happened—something that had startled +this little white fawn of his. +</p> + +<p> +He recollected having met Fletcher coming along the deck as though +from her direction, and he determined to find out if his enemy had +been with her. +</p> + +<p> +“If Captain Fletcher wanted you to dance, I hope you didn’t consider +our game,” he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie looked up from her silent contemplation of the board. +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t ask me to dance,” she replied, her face flushing. +</p> + +<p> +So Fletcher had been talking to her! Lebrassa wondered what had been +said, and he was sufficiently acquainted with his man to know it would +be nothing to his, Lebrassa’s, credit. +</p> + +<p> +The thought appeared to amuse him, for a smile, half-tender, +half-cruel, came and played about his mouth as he watched his +companion. Her hand hovering uncertainly about a piece made his smile +deepen. +</p> + +<p> +“If you make that move, I win,” he remarked presently. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie surveyed the position more closely. +</p> + +<p> +“So you do,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Another move was tried, but further consideration proved it to be no +better than the first. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa watched her as she sat, with puckered brow, considering her +position on the chess board. Just then he was filled with great relief +to know that Cooper had <i>not</i> connected Molly’s friend with Lionel de +Tourville. In fact the negro had been too elated over his own marriage +to inquire further into the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, whatever I do, you win,” Leslie said presently. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa swept the pieces together. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. Whatever you do I win,” he replied in a voice that had in it +a queer undercurrent of savage satisfaction. “Shall we play again? +This time I’ll give you unto half of my kingdom, then we shall be more +evenly matched.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are one or two letters I must write, so perhaps you’ll excuse +me,” Leslie said, very conscious of Fletcher’s advice. +</p> + +<p> +“If I can give you a hand in any way, getting the right sort of stamps +or anything, don’t be afraid to ask,” he volunteered. +</p> + +<p> +“… I’ve already been taking up too much of your time.” +</p> + +<p> +Her nervous reply, with an unmistakable note of reserve, so different +from her usual friendly, straightforward manner, made a surge of anger +go coursing through Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +What Fletcher had said to the girl had made her lose faith in him. +</p> + +<p> +“How can you take up too much of my time, when Mrs. Cooper put you in +my charge?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“But—I keep you away from your own friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“My own friends! Who are they? If you mean the black passengers, I’m +sufficiently akin to them to despise them utterly. My friends! I never +had any. Those I want, despise me. Those who want me, I despise. I’m +nothing, neither black nor white, above the one, below the other. An +outcast and a pariah.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was aghast at the storm her words had roused. And his dreary, +bitter voice cut her to the quick. +</p> + +<p> +For a second time she had a glimpse of the galling black yoke—how it +chafed and tortured the man who wore it. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at him as he sat, all else forgotten but the black curse +on his life, with massive shoulders bowed, and a hopeless weariness in +his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The sight made her heart ache. He was so big and strong, so capable of +feeling, so full of suffering, so absolutely alone with a burden not +of his own making, and which none could help him with. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden flood of sympathy and understanding swept through her. +Getting to her feet, she leant over him, a hand lightly on his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t any fault of yours,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Her voice and light, caressing touch made him start up, shivering as +from ague. +</p> + +<p> +Startled by the abruptness of his movement, she drew back quickly. He +had loomed over her so suddenly, big and all-powerful, blocking out +everything but the fact of himself. There was some emotion on his face +that her frightened expression and shrinking attitude stifled. +</p> + +<p> +In a bitter, hopeless way, he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t waste any sympathy on me, Miss Graham. I’m not worth it.” +</p> + +<p> +Abruptly he turned away. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie watched him go, the wail of a violin came sweeping along on +the night wind and died away in a long-drawn sigh. Just then the world +seemed all pain—pain that no human hands could lighten. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly aware of where she was going, Leslie went along the deck. Her +only desire was to reach the light, to get away from the blackness +that shadowed and spoilt everything. +</p> + +<p> +On the upper deck, among the gay flags and the colored lanterns, the +music that had seemed like weeping was only a waltz tune! +</p> + +<p> +She leant against the rail, thankful for the light, watching the +dancers, glad there were still some happy people in the world, people +whom the black did not touch. +</p> + +<p> +She looked round the deck for Fletcher. She knew she must accept his +offer of friendship, and not risk making things even worse by letting +Mr. Lebrassa think they ever could be more than friends. +</p> + +<p> +A little way off, she saw her quarry watching the crowd moodily. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie hesitated. His air of aloofness did not argue well for the +coming interview. And the fact that Fletcher had never on any occasion +approved of her behavior made her courage shrivel to vanishing point. +Then the thought of the consequences that might arise if she persisted +in her present line of action made her take her wavering determination +firmly in both hands. +</p> + +<p> +A voice with a desperate “do or die” note in it broke in on his moody +reverie. +</p> + +<p> +“I hadn’t time to thank you, Captain Fletcher. And I’m very grateful +for what you said and did.” +</p> + +<p> +Hardly able to believe his ears, he turned. The cause of his gloomy +musings was with him, for the first time condescending to take any +notice of him or his advice. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only too pleased to be of any use to you, Miss Graham,” he said +eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief pause as Leslie wondered how to put her project into +words. She was anxious to justify Molly and to give Lebrassa his due +by letting Fletcher know the mulatto had done his best to keep her +from going to Africa. +</p> + +<p> +Groping round in his head for some commonplace remark Fletcher watched +her, but her presence seemed to have deprived him of speech. +</p> + +<p> +“You were quite right in what you said when that man came and annoyed +me,” Leslie said in a nervous manner. “But I’d never looked at it in +that light before. So I’d like you for my friend, and… and I’d like to +explain everything to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bother to explain. I shall be only too delighted if you will +count me as your friend without that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’d much rather tell you all about it,” she insisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well then, if you wish, but let me get you a chair first.” +</p> + +<p> +In a more light-hearted frame of mind than had been his since leaving +Liverpool, he skirmished round the deck to find two chairs. +</p> + +<p> +As they sat side by side, into Fletcher’s ears was poured the story of +the letter, how it never reached its destination, and the fatal +result. She told him of the one that had come to her from Molly in +Africa. How Lebrassa had tried to persuade her not to go to her +friend, but she had insisted. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” she finished, “Mrs. Cooper married that dreadful man to +save me, not because he’s rich, as people say. And I couldn’t leave +her in the lurch.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher could read between the lines, and he knew Leslie had +struggled on, trying to keep her friend, handicapped beyond her +strength. +</p> + +<p> +“I always suspected it was something of the sort, both in your case +and Mrs. Cooper’s,” he said in a kindly tone. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very good of you to have given the case so lenient a view. It +was all a mistake, so ghastly that at times I can’t believe it. Poor +little Molly tied for life to that—man, all because my letter went +astray.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher recollected what he had heard in the hotel concerning +Lebrassa’s desire for his partner to marry Molly Seaton. With the +recollection came a feeling that the mulatto may have wanted the +marriage as a means of getting Leslie to Africa. +</p> + +<p> +The idea made him probe deeper into the affair. +</p> + +<p> +“Have any of your people anything to do with West Africa, Miss +Graham?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. My father disliked everything African and he had an absolute +hatred of negroes. I once had a piece of jewelry that I found among +his things. A friend told me it was of West African origin, but it +couldn’t have been because my father had never been there, and he had +been to the place the name of which was engraved on the armlet, +because when he was… ill, he used to talk about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the name of the place?” Fletcher asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Kallu.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never heard of it,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m much interested +in things West African, and I know more about them than most people. +If you’d let me have a look at that armlet I could tell whether it had +come from those parts.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got it now. I had to sell it last year when Molly was so +ill.” +</p> + +<p> +Scenting a mystery, Fletcher pondered on what she had said. He wanted +to ask Leslie more about her father. Finally he decided to leave the +subject until a more advanced stage of friendship permitted of +questions bordering on the inquisitive. +</p> + +<p> +Her voice roused him. +</p> + +<p> +“I like Mr. Lebrassa, and I consider the world is hard on him for a +reason that is no fault of his. For all that I shouldn’t like him to +think—to think he could be anything more than my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie got to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve not been at all nice to you,” she continued, “and I appreciate +your kindness in… in coming to my rescue. Good-night and many thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher took the hand she held out to him, wondering why Fate had +left such an honorable, high-minded child to find her way through the +maze of life alone. +</p> + +<p> +When she had gone, a desire for solitude drove him to the lower deck, +to walk up and down there, thinking of all she had said. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa was there also, pacing up and down with the quiet, stealthy +tread of a jungle beast. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of his dark, powerful face with its cruel mouth and +indifferent expression eventually drove Fletcher to his cabin, more +than ever convinced there was something behind it all that only the +mulatto knew. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +CHAPTER IX +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>I am so foolish and you are so wise.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Calabar River crept along sluggishly, bringing with it all the +drainings of a dark continent. A dense forest lined one bank right +down to its boulder-strewn edge; the other was a dreary, monotonous +stretch of mangrove and pandanus swamp. +</p> + +<p> +No sound broke the quiet of the evening, except the sickly lapping of +water round the slimy, weed-grown piles of a wooden wharf. There was +no sign of human life save one woman standing ankle-deep in the river, +gazing intently across the stretch of steaming swamp. +</p> + +<p> +She was tall and superbly made, a bronze statue in the swiftly fading +light, with features more Arab than negro. A cream-colored cloth +draped her from shoulder to knee. On her arms were a couple of ivory +bracelets; these and a necklace composed of many rows of gold chains +set with small nuggets, coral and charms, completed her attire. +</p> + +<p> +Just as the brief African twilight was gathering into night, a canoe +crept out from the shadows of the opposite bank, and made straight for +the woman. +</p> + +<p> +The boat had one occupant, a young man of about twenty. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached her, the woman greeted him in a dialect not known in +that part of Southern Nigeria. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s not back yet, Nanza. He has a great love for England now. He’s +been there twice within the last six months.” +</p> + +<p> +For some minutes the two stood talking together. Then they turned +inland, to a trading factory standing just behind the wharf. +</p> + +<p> +A light dribbled through one of the reed blinds screening a door +leading on to the balcony surrounding the upper part of the building. +Inside, busy writing, Cooper sat. +</p> + +<p> +The unceremonious pulling aside of the reed blind made him look up +sharply. When his gaze fell on the entering couple, surprise and anger +came to his face. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here?” he demanded hotly, looking at the man. “You +were told not to come within four hundred miles of this place.” +</p> + +<p> +Contemptuously, Nanza looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Since when have I taken orders from you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The order was not mine, but the Sultan’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve a great liking for things English lately, both you and he.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a threat in Nanza’s voice. Cooper was quick to hear it. His +next remark was in a cooler and more conciliatory tone. +</p> + +<p> +“On each occasion lately, it was business that took our Sultan to +England,” he explained. +</p> + +<p> +“And I suppose it was <i>business</i> that made you marry one of an +accursed race,” Nanza sneered. +</p> + +<p> +“My marriage was the Sultan’s command,” Cooper said after a moment’s +pause. +</p> + +<p> +The answer appeared to leave Nanza nonplussed. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni’s voice broke the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it the Sultan’s command too, that you sit of an evening toying +with that woman’s hair, and whispering love words into her ears?” she +demanded. +</p> + +<p> +In an access of fury Cooper started up. +</p> + +<p> +“By hell! I won’t discuss my wife with such as you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark at him!” Yoni cried mockingly. “We hold his heart in our hand. +Squeeze it, Nanza, my brother. Ask all you wish. And if he won’t tell +you, threaten to expose everything. And he will tell you then, for +love has made a coward of him.” +</p> + +<p> +In a menacing manner Nanza advanced towards Cooper. +</p> + +<p> +“See here,” he cried angrily, “why am I kept in darkness? Twice have I +sent down asking why the Sultan doesn’t come. And twice I’ve been put +off by you. I will know the truth. What is the Sultan doing in +England?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve told you,” Cooper replied in a dogged voice. “It’s business that +concerns him alone. I’ve been forbidden to say more.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the Sultan’s concern is my concern. Am I not his cousin and +his heir?” +</p> + +<p> +At his words Yoni laughed scornfully, a laugh that had in it an +undercurrent of savage jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“But not his heir for much longer, Nanza,” she said. “For our Sultan +is afflicted with a love-sickness, of a fierceness that comes to men +but once. And he forgets, as men forget, that the dog which has licked +his hand for many years can bite.” +</p> + +<p> +In scorn her brother turned on her. +</p> + +<p> +“A pest on you for a jealous woman. Is it for a fool’s tale such as +this that you have dragged me down from Kallu?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is no fool’s tale,” Yoni declared passionately. “Have I been his +slave and servant all these years for nothing? When our cousin +returned from his last visit to England he would have nothing to do +with me. Instead, he would pace at nights from sunset to sunrise, and +would bid me begone did I venture near him. What is it comes between +a man and his sleep? Soft sleep in arms such as these,” and a pair of +beautiful limbs were thrown out with a gesture of despair. “What but +the face of another woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a mad, raving fool,” her brother said contemptuously. “Our +cousin has no need of women—as wives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cooper said the same of himself,” she cried, turning to the negro. +“Yet he has returned with a woman fairer than the morning, whose hair +is like gold. And she is his wife! I did not know these white women +could be so beautiful. All those I had seen before were as sticks, +dried and shriveled, and I, Yoni, in all my blackness, was fairer and +more to be desired. I said, ‘The whites breed fine men, but their +women—bah!’ In my ignorance I spat at them. They are ashamed of such +wives, I thought, that is why the white men always come alone. I was +wrong. They keep their fairest women safe at home and send here such +as are old and of no further use. It is love that has taken our cousin +again so soon to England. And he will return with a woman fairer than +the whitest star—his wife! It will be a short shrift for you then, +Nanza, for the Sultan will brook no heir save of his own breeding.” +</p> + +<p> +This time his sister’s remarks left Nanza very quiet. The truth of her +last observation struck home with considerable force. +</p> + +<p> +Apprehensively Cooper glanced at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yoni is crazy,” he said presently. “Between a man and his sleep come +other things than love. Vengeance, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +Nanza’s eyes came towards him. +</p> + +<p> +“Vengeance,” he echoed. +</p> + +<p> +“Vengeance that is all but completed,” Cooper said. “Now, as always, +our Sultan works alone and says no word until all is completed. Two +weeks from now he will be here with his victim, trapped in a way that +only he could have thought out.” +</p> + +<p> +In the manner of a savage beast about to spring, Nanza took a step +forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Lionel de Tourville’s son!” +</p> + +<p> +“The Gods have granted even greater vengeance. His daughter!” +</p> + +<p> +“His daughter! There was but a son!” +</p> + +<p> +“The son our Sultan searched for has been dead many years. In his +place came a daughter of whose existence we knew nothing. She is +young. Hardly more than a child. To seize her forcibly might have +meant her death before she reached Kallu. The trapping has been long +and most skilful. My marriage was part of it—she is as a sister to my +wife. Under the guise of friendship our Sultan is bringing her out +here, on a visit to my wife. She is in his care, trusting him! Who but +the Sultan could have conceived a plan so deep?” +</p> + +<p> +Nanza laughed, the great roar of some wild beast. +</p> + +<p> +Then another aspect of the situation struck him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why has this been told to you who are but a servant?” he asked +haughtily. “And not to me, his cousin and his heir?” +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t told to me. I learnt it for myself. When we were in England +together he heard a rumor, but he did not mention the matter again, +and I thought, as often before, the scent had proved false. When I got +out here he was constantly urging me to get my wife a companion of her +own color. I was puzzled, for our Sultan has no love for the English, +man or woman. I plied my wife with judicious questions, and soon +guessed his reason.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure of all this?” Nanza asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite sure. And remember, the Sultan has no liking for others to +discover his secrets. I should not have said anything about it had not +that woman’s foolishness put madness into you. It was no love business +that took the Sultan again to England. He was working for Kallu. For +the vengeance he promised twenty years ago. Vengeance for a murdered +queen. Vengeance for Irena. It was this that made him pace at night, +not love as this woman would have you think. And he has remained +unmarried because he would see his cousin Nanza heir. For your mother +claimed him kin when all his father’s race had turned against him.” +</p> + +<p> +Yoni’s voice broke in sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +“How like a man! Our Sultan has remained unwed because he has no real +love to give to women of my color. He would have a white wife, of the +class of his father’s people.” +</p> + +<p> +“If the Sultan wished he could have a white wife, even as I have,” +Cooper retorted. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” she said with intense scorn. “I’ve seen your wife. She is a +child of the people. I am Yoni, Keeper of the Stars, priestess of +Doomana, noble in my own land, and I know. There is a difference with +the whites as with the blacks. Our Sultan would not have a wife such +as yours. He would have a wife from the stock of his father, who was a +noble of England.” +</p> + +<p> +Angrily, Nanza turned on his sister. +</p> + +<p> +“A curse on you and your mad talk, Yoni,” he cried. “That I should be +afflicted with a fool for a sister! Go, this is man’s business and no +place for you.” +</p> + +<p> +With blazing eyes Yoni faced her brother. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Yoni, Keeper of the Stars. Night gives me many eyes, and I see +deep into the souls of men. Yet I am a fool as you please to say.” +</p> + +<p> +With a haughty gesture she lifted the reed blind and went from the +room. +</p> + +<p> +Going to the water’s edge, she stood there watching the night. +Blackness surrounded her. And high above, the white stars mocked and +twinkled. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +CHAPTER X +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>They seem’d long hours.</i>”</span><br> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In</span> the west, ominous clouds were banked, lurid and luminous, +splashed and barred by the deep flaming crimson of the setting sun +that lay, a pool of fiery red, in the midst of them. Sullen heaving +waves ran right up to the land, if such it could be called; stretch +upon stretch of haunting, mysterious mangrove swamp, broken only by +the mouth of a river, the thick, muddy waters of which drained +greasily down to the sea. +</p> + +<p> +It was the scenery of the Bight of Biafra—mangroves, foul lagoons and +pestilential mud. A fetid waste that was neither land nor water, all +matted and grown together with rank, tangled creepers, so dense that +it seemed nature’s one desire was to keep any ray of light from +filtering through into the dark depths. +</p> + +<p> +The scene was neither beautiful nor cheering, but it had a grim +fascination as it lay there, sullen and secretive, lighted just on the +edge with somber liana-slung passages leading away into darkness. +</p> + +<p> +On the upper deck of the <i>Batava</i>, Lebrassa stood with his eyes on the +scene. He might have been studying the wild waste of swamp, or +listening to voices that were wafted across the awning-covered deck. +</p> + +<p> +A fortnight had passed since Leslie had made friends with Fletcher. +Since that night her acquaintances had increased, at one time +numbering fully half a dozen. When the <i>Batava</i> reached African waters +they had decreased as the vessel put in at the various ports. Now, as +it lay anchored off the mouth of the Calabar River, her friends on +board were reduced to two, not counting Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +One was Captain Fletcher, the other a Major Harding. The latter was a +man of about forty-eight, moreover a father, as Leslie discovered +before she had known him half an hour, with a daughter in England +about her own age. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of her new friends the girl did not altogether avoid the +mulatto. He was a pariah. She had been one for a while; her own +experience of the position had given her a keen sympathy for him, and +a certain amount of time she still spent in his company. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa did not appear to notice any change in her manner. He was the +same as ever, except that he was anxious she should make the most of +her new friends. So much so, that the fears Fletcher’s lecture had +roused were speedily lulled. +</p> + +<p> +A voice speaking at Lebrassa’s elbow made him turn round in his usual +bored, indifferent manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I can quite believe your tale about the Bight of Benin,” it said. +</p> + +<p> +“Which tale, Miss Graham?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“About the forty who didn’t come out,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +Then she glanced again at the forbidding scene. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what goes on inside that dark landscape,” she added. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an abode of wickedness. The essence of all the evil that oozes +out from the black heart of Africa.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your country, and you oughtn’t to say horrid things about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you consider it my country,” he remarked, smiling slightly. “In +your opinion I’m more in my element here than I was, say—the night I +had the pleasure of meeting you?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was sorry she had spoken. She tried to avoid all topics that +would make his black burden any heavier. But in his ways and speech he +was so like a white man that sometimes she forgot the mixed blood in +him. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly, a look of distress on her +face. “But from something you once said, I imagined you’d lived out +here nearly all your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve spent more than half my life out here,” he replied. “I came when +I was about as old as you are now, quite twenty years ago. By now, I +suppose you’re right in calling it ‘my country’,” he added, the +bitterness she now knew in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +With curiosity she glanced at him. He interested her deeply, this big +strange man whom nobody liked, for no reason at all so far as she +could see, except an accident of birth. +</p> + +<p> +Often she had wanted to ask him about himself, who he really was and +where he came from. And this seemed an opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +“Were you born in England?” she asked, rather nervously. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie knew she ought not to display so much interest in him, but +somehow she could not help it. At times too, she had the queer feeling +of there being a link between them, but she put this down to the fact +of their both being pariahs. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said. “I was born in Africa. In a country deep in the +wilds—my mother’s country. When I was a baby, my father took me to +England. At eighteen I came back to Africa. But, during the interval +I’d become too civilized. I couldn’t settle down in my mother’s +country—couldn’t quite break away from the white side. So I came down +to Calabar, just to stay on the edge of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But didn’t you like England?” +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t that so much as that England didn’t like me,” he said +rather grimly. +</p> + +<p> +He changed the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been asking me questions, Miss Graham, so I’m going to +retaliate, and ask you one.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I often wonder what your mother was like, and why you weren’t called +after her, instead of after—your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“My mother died when I was a baby. But my father always said I was +just like her, and not a bit like him. And I am named after her, +too—Leslie Sylvia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you discard Sylvia in favor of the masculine Leslie?” he +asked. “I much prefer Sylvia.” +</p> + +<p> +On Lebrassa’s face was the quiet, well-bred smile that occasionally +came now when they were together. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought Leslie sounded more capable of looking after itself. Sylvia +has such a frail sound, as if it ought to be kept at home in +cotton-wool with some mere male to look after it. After I left school +and went to live with my father, he always treated me as if I were a +boy. He said I had my own way to make and I must get used to knocks. +It was a bit strenuous at first, but I got used to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little Sylvia! Does she always do just what this strong-minded +Leslie tells her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now you’re laughing at me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed I’m not,” he said gravely, his mouth twitching with amusement. +“In all seriousness I ask you—at a critical moment would ‘Sylvia’ or +‘Leslie’ come uppermost?” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t answer such a silly question. I’ll go and do my packing and +leave you to laugh alone.” +</p> + +<p> +When she left, Lebrassa’s gaze went again to the gloomy landscape, and +stayed there in a fixed, brooding manner. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly midnight when the vessel anchored off Duke +Town—haunting, tropical midnight, pitch-dark, close, and breathless. +A thick fog hung over the river, deadening every sound, shutting out +every light of the settlement on the near bank. +</p> + +<p> +On the boat all was bustle and confusion, but when the noise died down +a little, weird sounds came drifting in from the surrounding darkness. +Voices out on the river were shouting and singing in a guttural +language. In a soft, sickly manner the thick, muddy water lapped on +the vessel’s side. Through the darkness came the snort and whistle of +a wandering steam launch trying to locate the steamer. +</p> + +<p> +In even quieter lulls, strange sounds from the distant bank were +heard. The splashes and heaving sighs of uncouth monsters gamboling; +hoarse bellows and soft slithering noises as of heavy bodies sliding +over mud; uncanny moans and grunts and screams, mingled and mixed +together in a mysterious, whispering whole by the all-enveloping fog. +</p> + +<p> +Everything loomed big and haunting, wild and ghostly, distorted out of +all proportion by the dense mist. +</p> + +<p> +Near the gangway Leslie stood with Lebrassa, looking about her with +rather nervous eyes. This uncanny land of fog and darkness was not the +scented, moonlit, tropic Africa Molly’s letter had led her to expect. +This fact, combined with the strangeness of everything, the eerie +night and the unknown awaiting her there, made the girl a trifle +hysterical. +</p> + +<p> +With a triumphant snort, the wandering steam launch reached its +destination. Leslie leant over the rail, straining through the murky +atmosphere to get a glimpse of the occupants, hoping to see her +friend. Only one person came up the gangway; an Englishman, parched +and sun-dried, with the bloodless look of a grasshopper. With some +surprise he glanced at her and Lebrassa, then he went along the deck +to a spot some yards away where Fletcher and Major Harding were +standing. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, out of the shrouded gloom, came the muffled splash of oars. +The sound made Leslie move nearer the gangway, thinking that, at last, +Molly was coming. +</p> + +<p> +A big boat loomed up, manned by half a dozen savages, naked but for a +wisp of cloth round their loins. Black figures with faces like +grotesque masks, skins that steamed in the faint yellow lamplight, +blood-shot eyes that rolled and glistened, and mouths, big, loose and +red, that jabbered in a horrible manner. +</p> + +<p> +Fascinated, Leslie watched them. +</p> + +<p> +For whom were they coming? To whom were they calling, with awful +beast-like voices? +</p> + +<p> +They were calling to—Mr. Lebrassa! And he was answering in the same +way! It was Molly’s hell. Molly’s hell that she was going to! +</p> + +<p> +A sweet, wild laugh just beside him took Lebrassa’s attention quickly +from the boatmen. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I… shall I get like them if I stay out here?” +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth are you talking about?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Leslie said in an hysterical manner. +“Where’s Molly? Why doesn’t she come?” +</p> + +<p> +“My men have just brought a message saying she’s not well enough to +come and meet you.” +</p> + +<p> +Tightly Leslie’s hands clutched the rail, all hysteria knocked out of +her at the thought of Molly being ill. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Mr. Cooper?” she asked, scanning the boatload of savages. +</p> + +<p> +“He couldn’t leave her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must go to Molly at once,” Leslie said, everything forgotten but +her friend. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll start now, if you wish,” Lebrassa replied. “I’ll send my men +back for your luggage.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must just say good-by to Captain Fletcher and Major Harding,” +Leslie answered, turning in their direction. +</p> + +<p> +It was very evident the group had been watching her, for her first +movement in their direction brought Fletcher towards her. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Mrs. Cooper?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s too ill to come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you mustn’t think of landing to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I must go to her,” Leslie replied. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t leave the vessel at this time of night, all alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shan’t be alone. Mr. Lebrassa is going with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, child, you’re not in England now, or dealing with an +Englishman. If you must go, let me take you up in Atherley’s launch. I +know where the place is.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s mouth set in the obstinate way it did on those rare occasions +when Fletcher’s temper got the better of his judgment and he said +anything in the least degree disparaging about Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t insult Mr. Lebrassa by refusing to go with him.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie left him wrathful and gloomy and went along to Harding. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going, now,” she said, “so this will be good-by.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly ‘good-by’ as yet, Miss Graham. Dr. Atherley has kindly placed +his launch at our disposal, so you’ll let us have the pleasure of +seeing you to the end of your journey.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very thoughtful of you, but Mr. Lebrassa’s boat has just come.” +</p> + +<p> +Harding glanced at Fletcher. He had noted the other’s interview with +the girl, and he had made a final effort to keep her in safe custody. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by,” Leslie said, holding out a hand to Harding. +</p> + +<p> +With fatherly tenderness he took it. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t desert me altogether, Miss Graham. I miss my own little +girl dreadfully, so will you promise to bring Mrs. Cooper to my +bungalow sometimes and pour tea for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think Molly would care to go anywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you can’t persuade her to come with you, come alone.” +</p> + +<p> +Gratefully Leslie smiled at him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awfully decent of you to try to make things easier for me, but I +knew just what I was coming to. Molly didn’t try to deceive me. And I +shall be very pleased to come and see you sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +With a pleasant smile at the Major and a cold nod to Fletcher, Leslie +joined Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher watched the two as they disappeared down the gangway. Then he +went to the rail in time to see the big boat, with its crew of +savages, swallowed up in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +To Leslie, as she left the <i>Batava’s</i> side, there came a sensation of +all known things gliding away—an uncanny feeling that made her +shiver. She cast a quick glance back at the steamer, and stifled a +desire to ask Lebrassa to stop and take her back to the world she +knew. With an effort she suppressed the wish and tried to interest +herself in her surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +When one of the negroes struck a match, the sharp scratch made her +heart give a choking jump. A moment later a lantern flared up in the +bow. The combination of flickering light and curling miasma caused +wild, distorted shapes to dance in the shrouded gloom, and cast weird +shadows over the savage crew. +</p> + +<p> +With hands clasped tightly together, Leslie watched the negroes. +</p> + +<p> +Occasional grunts broke from them as they pulled and sweated at the +oars to the accompaniment of a low, whining chant. To any one fresh +from civilization, they were very unlike human beings. This Leslie +realized as she watched them, horror-stricken at the thought of Molly +being married to one of their race. +</p> + +<p> +A movement at the tiller brought her mind back from the naked crew to +Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +The fitful light rendered his swarthy face darker than usual, and the +negro in him showed more as he sat gazing intently ahead, picking out +a difficult passage by sounds and signs that only senses attuned to +the slightest noise and shadow could have noticed. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie watched him. Never had she seen him look quite so dark, quite +so much like a negro before. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to give him a coat of black paint and a covering no bigger +than a handkerchief, and see what I thought of him then.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s words, accidentally overheard that night in the hotel, came +back to her mind. +</p> + +<p> +What <i>would</i> she think of him then? +</p> + +<p> +A thrill of horror went through her. +</p> + +<p> +All Fletcher had said concerning Lebrassa’s sort and color returned +with an appalling rush. With it came a sudden realization of the +loneliness of her present position, and the terrifying knowledge that +she really knew nothing at all about Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +With fearsome speculation she watched him, noting, as she had never +done before, every line and flaw on his face, the latent savagery in +his eyes, the cruel set of his mouth, the whole stamped with the +unmistakable seal of reckless dissipation. +</p> + +<p> +What if she had been wrong all the time? What if he <i>were</i> the Hyena? +</p> + +<p> +Leslie tried to crush this thought back. But it would come uppermost. +During the voyage out she had heard many terrible tales about this +mysterious rebel chieftain, the mere recollection of which made her +shiver. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa must have noticed the shudder that ran through her, for he +glanced sharply at her. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Trying to stifle her terror, she looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Have—we much further to go?” +</p> + +<p> +He must have noticed the break of fear in her voice, for he smiled at +her gently. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing <i>you</i> need be afraid of,” he said softly. “Fifteen +minutes from now you’ll be with your friend.” +</p> + +<p> +His cultivated voice comforted her. It made her remember he was very +different from the creatures rowing the boat. +</p> + +<p> +Almost as he spoke, a faint luminous light appeared in the darkness +ahead, and grew bigger and redder and more lurid as they approached +it. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The light of my wharf. The end of your river journey.” +</p> + +<p> +The oars were shipped, and black, weed-grown piles loomed up. Some of +the crew leant over and pawed along the slimy wood until steps were +reached. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie mounted them, she experienced the uncomfortable feeling of +some one’s gliding away at her approach, of unseen eyes watching her +from out of the darkness. She was glad of Lebrassa’s company, and +stayed close beside him while the negroes went to the trading factory +to fetch a hammock in which she was to be carried up to the villa on +the hill. +</p> + +<p> +As they stood together, out from the night came the sudden throb of a +native drum, a roll of wild music with little intermittent taps. +</p> + +<p> +Another answered it, a faint echo in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +The sound startled the girl. Major Harding had told her how the +African tribes signalled to each other in this fashion, sending +messages from place to place with amazing rapidity. She wondered what +the drums were saying, and why, the moment she landed, they should +roll their wild music through the night. +</p> + +<p> +The sound left Lebrassa tense and listening. +</p> + +<p> +In the faint light of a dying lamp overhead Leslie glanced at him. The +look on his face was one she had never seen before: an expression of +tigerish ferocity. +</p> + +<p> +“What are they making that noise about?” she asked nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s in honor of your landing.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed, in a manner both savage and tender. For the message of the +drums was—that he had returned, and with him was his enemy’s +daughter! +</p> + +<p> +His look and laugh made the girl shrink from him. The lamp overhead +flared up wildly. In the sudden glare she saw a pair of eyes watching +her intently. Then all light died away as the last roll of a drum came +echoing down like a faint sigh from the unknown. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie remained in the darkness, conscious some one was creeping +stealthily up to her. She could see nothing, but she could feel an +unknown and hostile presence. +</p> + +<p> +A voice came out of the night, a wild jabber, loud and coarse, with a +note of the beast in it, and the sound sapped Leslie’s last remaining +scrap of courage. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you there, Mr. Lebrassa?” she asked nervously. +</p> + +<p> +At her question he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +He was there. So was she. And Kallu knew it! +</p> + +<p> +The depths of savagery in his tone made her shudder. All the fears +that had assailed her on the river returned four-fold. Fearsomely she +touched the arm of the man who loomed, solid, in the surrounding +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not the Hyena, are you?” she asked in a hysterical manner. +</p> + +<p> +“If I said ‘yes,’ would you believe me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Please, please don’t make a joke of it when I’m here all—alone.” +</p> + +<p> +The terrified, imploring note in her voice made him draw her arm +through his, where he held it carefully. And Leslie was glad of the +feeling of safety that came with him. +</p> + +<p> +“So in a critical moment it would be Sylvia,” he said teasingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Would be Sylvia!” she echoed. +</p> + +<p> +Then in a shaky manner she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“What made <i>you</i> think I might be the Hyena?” he went on. “Am I so +very savage when we’re together? Or are you afraid that now I’ve got +you far away from your own sort that I shall fall on you and gobble +you up, as the wolf did little Red Riding Hood?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was all this strange haunted night,” she confessed. “I… I think I +had a sudden attack of nerves. It was stupid of me to say such a +thing. You’re not angry, are you?” she finished anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Do I sound as if I were?” +</p> + +<p> +“You sound as if you were laughing at me, but then you’re very good at +hiding what you really feel.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa made no reply. He remained silent, her arm tucked through his +until the arrival of the hammock and lanterns broke the darkness +again. +</p> + +<p> +The party was soon stirring. Leslie lay in her litter trying to see +something of her surroundings. Only indistinct trunks of trees were +visible. In her ears was the sound of dripping moisture, an occasional +rustle in the undergrowth, far-away, moaning howls, the stealthy pad +of unshod feet, and the comforting sound of a firm, louder tread that +denoted a civilized presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s your destination,” Lebrassa said, at length. +</p> + +<p> +His words made her sit up. She saw nothing but mist and trees and a +vicious thorny hedge lost either way in the darkness. There was the +sound of a gate opening. More mist and trees, and, finally, a halt at +the bottom of broad, wooden steps leading up to a wide, creeper-grown +balcony. +</p> + +<p> +The noise of their arrival brought some one along the veranda. A negro +loomed up, a man of about forty, of medium height and black as any one +of her bearers. Only his European dress and the look of intelligence +on his face marked him out as in any way differing from them. +</p> + +<p> +Before Lebrassa’s brief introduction, Leslie guessed he was Molly’s +husband. +</p> + +<p> +A desire to scream aloud seized her. With an effort she pulled herself +together. She must shake hands with him. For Molly’s sake she must +behave just as if he were a white man. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I could not come to meet you, Miss Graham,” Cooper said. +“But my wife is dangerously ill.” +</p> + +<p> +His words stunned Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s voice reached her. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me take you to the dining-room. You must have something to eat +after your tiring journey.” +</p> + +<p> +Impatiently she turned from him. +</p> + +<p> +“I must go to Molly at once. Will you take me?” she asked, looking at +Cooper. +</p> + +<p> +She had a vague idea of walking up the steps and along the balcony +with some one who, in stilted, foreign English was imploring her to +save Molly. +</p> + +<p> +Then she was taken into a lighted room. +</p> + +<p> +In the faint illumination of a shaded lamp she saw a trio of black +faces leaning over a bed where a girl lay moaning—two men and one +woman. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie had eyes only for the girl on the bed. Molly was there. Molly +who had done this dreadful thing for <i>her</i> sake! Molly with her pretty +golden hair and sweet, gentle face, staring wildly at the figures +clustered around her. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie crossed the room, she felt a sudden hatred for everybody +with a dark skin. Leaning over the bed, she tried to block out from +Molly’s poor wild eyes those terrifying black faces. +</p> + +<p> +“What are these people doing here?” she demanded, looking at Cooper. +</p> + +<p> +“They are two doctors and a nurse, Miss Graham.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send them away. I can manage quite well alone. I’ve nursed and +doctored Molly through several illnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s only idea was to clear the room of black people. +</p> + +<p> +There was some demur on the part of the negro physicians. In an +insolent, aggressive, patronizing manner they questioned Leslie’s +right to dismiss them. +</p> + +<p> +Pale and haughty, she faced them. +</p> + +<p> +“You will do as I tell you. Mr. Cooper has put his wife in my care.” +</p> + +<p> +She was of the dominant race and the room cleared. +</p> + +<p> +When the doctors and nurse had gone, Leslie turned to Cooper. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you see if Mr. Lebrassa is still here? And if he is, will you +say I’d like to speak to him for a moment?” +</p> + +<p> +He left immediately. +</p> + +<p> +Turning from the bed, Leslie took off her hat with trembling hands. +She was bending over Molly again, crooning little words of sympathy +and understanding, when a light tap disturbed her. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing the room, she drew aside the reed blind screening the +doorway. +</p> + +<p> +Outside Lebrassa stood. In his hands was a tray with coffee and +sandwiches. +</p> + +<p> +With an air of proud humility, as if he were more accustomed to be +waited on than waiting on others, he put the tray on a table just +inside the door. +</p> + +<p> +“You sent for me, so I took the liberty of bringing you some supper at +the same time,” he remarked as he put the tray down. +</p> + +<p> +“That was thoughtful of you,” she said, looking at him with eyes full +of gratitude. “I really wanted you to tell Mr. Cooper not to come in +here again to-night. I didn’t like to tell him myself. But… but Molly +will be much better just alone with me. I sent the doctors away too, +and I’m afraid I offended them, but they were only frightening her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see that Cooper and the rest of them keep out of here,” he +assured her. +</p> + +<p> +He half-turned to go, but Leslie’s hand on his sleeve kept him where +he was. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll think me very silly,” she said quickly, in a nervous, +apologetic tone, “but I wonder if you’d mind waiting here for a bit. +I… I’d like to think you were here, that I’m not quite alone with—all +these strange people.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll gladly stay all night if it’s going to save you one moment’s +worry.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would like you to stay until it’s light again. Everything seems so +fearfully dark, everybody so… so different from what I’ve been used +to. It will be comforting to think I have a friend within hailing +distance.” +</p> + +<p> +In a peculiar manner Lebrassa laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Friend, you call me?” +</p> + +<p> +All Leslie saw in his laughter and his remark was the fact that he had +once told her he had no friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” she asked. “You’ve always been a good friend to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you to me, Miss Graham,” he answered with a touch of feeling in +his usually indifferent voice. +</p> + +<p> +He changed the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“But you mustn’t make yourself ill, looking after Mrs. Cooper. Let me +send the nurse back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Molly will be much better just with me, and I can manage quite all +right, especially now I know you’ll be here. Good-night, and thank you +so much.” +</p> + +<p> +From sheer gratitude Leslie held out her hand. +</p> + +<p> +Until now she had avoided shaking hands with him. In fact she had +avoided all personal contact, except on the occasions when her +sympathy had been aroused, or when sudden fear of the strange life she +had been plunged into had made her turn to him. +</p> + +<p> +Very cordially she gave her hand, for in her mind was the knowledge of +the suspicions that had assailed her during the boat journey from the +steamer. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa took it carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“This seals our compact,” he said, smiling at her, the quiet, +well-bred smile Leslie now knew and liked. “We are no longer enemies, +but friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“What nonsense you do talk at times. We’ve never been enemies.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about those bloodthirsty battles over the chess-board?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, those!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Lebrassa held her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, little friend,” he said, watching her closely. +</p> + +<p> +Freeing her hand he turned away rather sharply and went from the room. +</p> + +<p> +Once outside, for some minutes he stood, thoughtful and motionless, by +the reed blind, as if on sentry there. Then, with a sudden, fierce +movement, he went along to the dining-room, where Cooper was. +</p> + +<p> +“Who sent that message up to Kallu?” he asked in a peremptory manner. +</p> + +<p> +The question set Cooper fidgeting uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“I sent no message,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Who did then?” Lebrassa asked savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“Yoni must have.” +</p> + +<p> +“What made that woman interfere?” +</p> + +<p> +“She had some mad notion that you’d gone to England to get married, +and she sent word up to Nanza to that effect. He came down here +threatening to expose everything unless he knew exactly what was +happening. To keep him quiet I had to tell him it was Lionel de +Tourville’s daughter you had gone to fetch.” +</p> + +<p> +The reply left Lebrassa thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“What made you connect Miss Graham with Lionel de Tourville?” he asked +at length. +</p> + +<p> +“From what you told me that night in Harrogate, and from what I learnt +from my wife about her friend. I congratulate you on the clever way +you got the girl out here.” +</p> + +<p> +In a strangely unpleasant manner, Lebrassa laughed—a laugh that might +have been caused by his minions running foul of his orders, or his own +delight at having captured his enemy so neatly. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +CHAPTER XI +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>But hate and friendship both find their end.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Outside</span> the Lebrassa & Cooper factory, all was quiet and peaceful in +the early morning sun. Inside, the business of the day had started, +and Cooper was issuing orders to the colored assistants before +ascending to his office on the floor above. +</p> + +<p> +When he left the store to go up the steps leading to the balcony, Yoni +came out from behind the building. She followed him to the office and +leant against the door, watching him sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, as she showed no inclination either to speak or go away, he +looked up from his books. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen her. She has a face like a star set in the black cloud of +her hair. Hands so small, fit for nothing save to hold the heart of a +man. And a voice that ripples sweet as flowing water.” +</p> + +<p> +“What of it?” Cooper asked impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you talk of vengeance!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +Contemptuously she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not indeed! I’ve seen the Sultan with her. He’s her slave and +servant. He! The Lord of Doomana!” +</p> + +<p> +“He treats her as the white men treat their women,” Cooper explained. +</p> + +<p> +“She was afraid last night. I know, for I was close by and saw them. +He saw it too, and comforted her with soft words. I don’t know what +was said, for they spoke in her language. And he drew her arm through +his, and it might have been the earth’s greatest treasure for the care +he used.” +</p> + +<p> +Uneasily Cooper glanced at her, wishing his partner would come and +deal with this incubus of a woman. +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as my wife is able to travel we’re going up-country,” he said +in a soothing manner. “She, as my wife’s friend, goes with us. One day +she will stray from the camp and not return. Down here my wife’s story +will pacify the white men—that her friend was lost in the forest and +devoured by some wild beast. But you and I and the Sultan, Yoni, will +know what really happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“That she is to be taken to Kallu, to be sacrificed on the altar her +father fouled?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if our Sultan is going to kill her, why does he act as if he were +her lover?” +</p> + +<p> +“He wishes her to believe him her friend, so that she’ll have no idea +what his motive really is.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a pastime he finds pleasure in, and would have more of. I +followed them last night. My night was spent in the garden +watching—the garden I’ve been free to wander in these many years, but +am now forbidden to enter. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +As Cooper ignored the question, Yoni answered it herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Because a Star has risen in the Heart of Darkness. I know. Have I not +spent my life at his feet? Are there no hands good enough to serve +that girl but he must wait upon her himself? Last night it was a tray +set with dainty morsels. This morning when she came from that room, +who went to meet her with the haste of a supplicant lover, to take her +to a lounge set in the sweetest corner of the balcony, to place +cushions at her head, to tempt her again with dainties, running to and +fro, a woman’s slave? Who? The Sultan!” +</p> + +<p> +Cooper’s temper was rising, but he was anxious to keep the peace. +</p> + +<p> +“The hunt needs great skill,” he answered in a dogged manner. “The +game is shy and frightened—a nervous girl feeling insecure in her new +surroundings. Our Sultan is lulling her into a sense of safety before +he makes the next move.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a task men love—to soothe the fears of such as she. With +little hands so small and white, and eyes like twin flowers of blue +set in a roseleaf, other thoughts than vengeance enter the heart of +man.” +</p> + +<p> +Cooper’s supply of patience suddenly ran out. +</p> + +<p> +“Confound you!” he cried. “The truest word your brother spoke was when +he called you a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +After that, silence reigned in the office. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, the sound of some one coming up the steps made him heave a +sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +With eyes that had a glint of fear in their somber depths, Yoni turned +and looked at the man coming along the balcony. But she might not have +been there for all the notice Lebrassa took of her. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s this woman doing here?” he asked sharply, in the vernacular. +“I won’t have the natives loafing round my premises.” +</p> + +<p> +With a quick movement, full of grace and abandon, Yoni bowed deeply +before him. +</p> + +<p> +“I came to give my lord greeting,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Without taking the least notice of her Lebrassa moved away. +</p> + +<p> +“Has my lord no greeting for his slave?” she asked with a note of +abject pleading. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa turned his back on her, and, picking up a budget of letters, +began to open and read them. +</p> + +<p> +Cooper glanced quickly from one to the other. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you should be so offhand with her,” he said presently +in English, and with an air of diffidence. +</p> + +<p> +“Since when has it been my habit to propitiate?” +</p> + +<p> +“She knows too much. What’s more, she’s madly jealous of that girl.” +</p> + +<p> +A look of savage arrogance came to Lebrassa’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“I presume you mean your wife’s friend,” he said. “In future you will +refer to her as Miss Graham, and in no other manner.” +</p> + +<p> +With that Lebrassa left the office. +</p> + +<p> +He went to his private apartments, Yoni following him. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord is angry,” she said with a cringing air. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no use for those who disobey me.” +</p> + +<p> +In an anxious manner, she touched his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I hoped—” she began. +</p> + +<p> +With a savage gesture, he shook her hand off. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t touch me, woman,” he cried angrily. +</p> + +<p> +Alarmed and anxious, Yoni watched him. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it for nothing I’ve been your faithful servant these long years?” +she ventured. “I, Yoni, Keeper of the Stars, priestess of Doomana, who +gave all for the sake of love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk to me of love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Essel, my cousin, who spoke first of love? My lord was a good pleader +in the dead days.” +</p> + +<p> +In loathing he looked at her, as if the mention of the blood tie +between them was more than he could bear. +</p> + +<p> +Watching him in a threatening manner, Yoni drew away. +</p> + +<p> +“And if I go to the white men and say, ‘Come, I will show you the +Hyena, the Sultan of Kallu—the man you have looked for these many +years’—what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do as you please, only keep out of my sight.” +</p> + +<p> +“My lord has no fear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fear! Of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is he who won my heart, only to crush it. Essel, my cousin, see, I +am at your feet.” +</p> + +<p> +With a lithe movement Yoni was prostrate before him. +</p> + +<p> +With hatred and aversion, he turned his back on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Go back to the darkness that bred you. I’ve done with such as you,” +he cried savagely. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moan, like that of an animal in deadly pain. Yoni crept +out on to the balcony and crouched there shivering in the sunshine. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +CHAPTER XII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Yes, the times are changed, for better or worse.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Roses</span> nodded sleepily over the veranda rail of Cooper’s bungalow, +saturating the air with their sweetness. Their scent mingled with that +of a hundred subtle foreign perfumes until the place had the +languorous atmosphere of an Eastern harem. Around the dwelling lay a +wilderness of a garden—a tangle of beautiful tropical trees and +shrubs, fenced with a high thorny hedge which protected from +inquisitive eyes its wealth of gorgeous flowers and cool greenery. +</p> + +<p> +One corner of the balcony was grown over by roses whose blossoms shut +out the blazing glare and turned the spot into a cool, scented bower. +</p> + +<p> +There two girls sat, one on a long cane lounge, the other on a +quaintly carved native stool, a tea-table beside them. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly three weeks had passed since Leslie’s arrival in Duke Town, and +during the time she had nursed Molly to convalescence. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie was pouring tea, footsteps along the veranda made her glance +in that direction, a rather strained look in her eyes. Since only +colored people came to the bungalow, and as Cooper never returned +before dusk, she feared it was one of the native doctors of whom she +had seen more than enough during the last few weeks. +</p> + +<p> +Coming round the corner was a big, dark man in spotless white. On +seeing him an expression of relief came to her face. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here, Mr. Lebrassa?” she asked with mock severity. +“My patient isn’t allowed any visitors as yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard Mrs. Cooper was able to get up to-day, and I wanted to be the +first outsider to congratulate her on her recovery,” he explained, as +he paused beside Molly’s chair. +</p> + +<p> +“You must congratulate my nurse, not me. But for Leslie I should never +have pulled through.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t do much,” the younger girl replied. “I just sat round and +gave you bites and sups.” +</p> + +<p> +Affectionately, Molly’s thin arms went round the neck of the girl +sitting on the low stool beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Modesty is Leslie’s great failing, as you may have noticed, Mr. +Lebrassa. Won’t you sit down?” she finished, glancing at a chair +beside them. +</p> + +<p> +As Molly poured out tea for the visitor, Leslie studied him. +</p> + +<p> +She had seen nothing of Lebrassa since the morning following her +arrival at the bungalow. He came as a welcome change after society +limited to Cooper, whom she avoided as much as possible, and the two +negro physicians who were rapidly becoming a nightmare. +</p> + +<p> +She could quite understand Molly’s thinking Mr. Lebrassa almost an +Englishman; he was so different from those others. +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke in on her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear you’ve not been out since you came here, Miss Graham,” he +said. “May I show you some of the local sights to-morrow afternoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve promised to have dinner with Major Harding to-morrow, and I +shouldn’t care to leave Molly both afternoon and evening.” +</p> + +<p> +Since leaving the steamer, Leslie had seen nothing of her two English +friends, but she had heard from one or the other daily. And with +Molly’s convalescence had come an invitation to dine with Harding the +following evening. +</p> + +<p> +Her reply brought a baulked look to Lebrassa’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +His one desire was to keep Leslie away from all her own color, so that +she would not be able to make comparisons that would be to his +disadvantage. +</p> + +<p> +However, nothing of what was in his mind showed on his face as he +looked at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I was told you couldn’t be induced to leave Mrs. Cooper, even for +necessary exercise. Now I find you’re willing to desert her for a +whole evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m the one to blame,” Molly put in quickly. “Leslie wouldn’t have +gone but I made her. She ought not to desert those nice men she met on +the boat. She’ll have few enough friends out here, goodness knows.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were wise in persuading her to go,” he said suavely. +</p> + +<p> +Then he looked again at Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +“When does my turn come? When may I take you sight-seeing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Any day that isn’t to-morrow,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“What about the day after? And what would you like to see?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something typically African.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your idea of ‘something typically African’?” +</p> + +<p> +“A place far away from missionaries and traders, that has never come +under white influence,” Leslie answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Away in the wilds, where the African can be seen in all his primitive +savagery, unrefined by the least touch of civilization, where human +sacrifice goes on daily in the local temple, and where human flesh is +displayed for edible purposes in the market square,” Lebrassa said, +continuing the theme. +</p> + +<p> +But although he spoke in his usual bored manner, a twitch of amusement +and teasing took the hard, set look from his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Reproachfully Leslie looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re making fun of me again,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a bush village a few miles away. What about that?” Molly +suggested, as she poured out a second cup of tea for the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think that will be sufficient to satisfy Miss Graham’s craving +for undiluted savagery?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You know I don’t like savage things,” Leslie exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Her remark silenced Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, he rose to go. +</p> + +<p> +After farewells were made, he lingered for a moment at Leslie’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I persuade you to accompany me as far as the gate, Miss Graham?” +he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Because of all his kindness to Molly, Leslie was full of gratitude. +This brought her to her feet at once, anxious to comply. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be glad of a walk,” she said. “And you can tell me the names +of some of these wonderful tropical flowers.” +</p> + +<p> +It was pleasant in the garden. The doves were cooing sleepily in the +waning afternoon sun. Butterflies, orange, scarlet, brown, opalescent +green, mauve, yellow and velvety-black flitted among the drowsy +blossoms. From bubbling fountains water dripped, and trees sighed +languidly in a light breeze that brought a rainbow shower of petals +falling slowly to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa seemed in no hurry to reach the gate. He went along +leisurely, pausing frequently, watching with veiled eyes the girl at +his side, answering her question about the flowers in a manner that +suggested he had a good knowledge of botany. +</p> + +<p> +Eventually when the gate was reached, he came to a halt. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Graham,” he said earnestly, “will you believe me when I say that +had I known six months ago what I know now I’d have done my best to +stop your friend’s marriage?” +</p> + +<p> +“But what could you have done?” she asked with some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to have known that a man of Cooper’s power would be able to +persuade a girl of your friend’s caliber into almost anything he +wished, if there was no counter-influence at work. I saw what was +happening, and I did nothing to prevent it. It pleased me to see her +going headlong to destruction, for I’ve a grudge against the universe, +a desire that the rest of mankind should suffer a modicum of what I’ve +been through in my time. But had I known she was the friend of my +little friend that was to be, I’d have put a stop to it.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a dreary note in his voice that Leslie now knew. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re blaming yourself for something that is not your fault at all,” +she said in a sympathetic manner. “And you mustn’t have a grudge +against the universe because of—your color. You imagine everybody +despises you because of it, and being proud, you get your oar in +first, and look at everybody with the deepest contempt. The world +won’t stand that sort of thing, and pays you back in your own coin. +You should look more amiably at the world. It’s not such a bad place +really if… if it weren’t for the mistakes that sometimes happen.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a strained look on Lebrassa’s face as he watched the girl +who gazed up at him earnestly and kindly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m one of the mistakes,” he said. “But so long as you don’t despise +me, I’ll endeavor to mend my ways, and be more amiable to the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I despise you? You’ve never given me any cause to. Now +you’re standing in the sun without your hat,” she added. +</p> + +<p> +As if to draw him into the shade, Leslie laid a small, anxious hand on +his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +Almost boyishly, he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“The sun won’t hurt my head. That’s one of the few advantages attached +to being a nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t call yourself that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? It’s what the world has called me from my earliest days. I +don’t mind now, since you don’t despise me because of it. But there +was a time when the word made me absolutely rabid, when it left me +hovering between murder and suicide. It stirred depths in me your mind +could never conceive. I’d high ideals as a youngster. That word stood +between me and all of them. It was maddening to have ambitions and yet +be a ‘nigger,’ with sufficient white blood in me to make me appreciate +the fact in all its fullness. I——” +</p> + +<p> +As if afraid of where confessions might carry him, Lebrassa broke off +suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“But I mustn’t worry my little friend with the career of a ‘mistake,’ ” +he continued more calmly. “For in the end I succeeded, but not in the +way I’d once hoped.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t worry me. I like to hear you talk about yourself. It +doesn’t do to keep things of that sort bottled up. They’re apt to +ferment and cause a terrific explosion.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was so with me, little friend. I fermented, and there was a big +explosion.” +</p> + +<p> +In his remarks Leslie saw nothing more than a reference to the huge +business he had built up in Calabar, and the fact that rumor said his +private life did not bear inspection. But the more she saw of the man, +the more excuses she could find for him. +</p> + +<p> +She returned to the house, pitying him from the depths of her heart, +guessing a little of what he had suffered. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa was well to the fore in her mind the next evening as she +dressed for Harding’s party. +</p> + +<p> +In from the balcony drifted the sound of the strange negro voices. To +celebrate his wife’s recovery Cooper had invited a dozen or so guests +to dinner. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie knew she would have to make an appearance in the drawing-room +before she left. She also knew that with Molly’s recovery there would +be more and more of the negro element to contend with. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, erect and fearless-looking, Leslie entered the +drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +A coal-black negro, male or female, in evening dress, is not a pretty +sight. This the girl realized as she gazed at the assembly. Her +thoughts went to Lebrassa as she had seen him the afternoon before, +olive-skinned, with well-cut features, immaculate in white drill, +bare-headed in the sun that marked out the silver threads in his +crisp, wavy black hair, and the deep-cut lines of dissipation on his +face. He had been laughing in a way she had never seen him laugh +before, laughing as if his black burden had suddenly dropped from him, +laughing in a way that took all the cruel look from his +mouth—laughing and calling himself a “nigger”! +</p> + +<p> +And she had come out to Africa thinking all educated negroes would be +like Mr. Lebrassa! +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie entered the room one of the black doctors crossed to her, +taking in every detail of her frock, letting his eyes dwell on her +slim, bare arms and slender white shoulders in a manner particularly +offensive. +</p> + +<p> +The girl detested him, and Molly’s convalescence had come as a blessed +relief from his almost constant presence in the bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +“I was wondering where you were, Miss Graham,” he said. “I have been +looking forward to meeting you unofficially, and without the reserve +professional etiquette demands between doctor and nurse. It is quite +ten years since I had the pleasure of dining with an English lady, +except, of course, my hostess. It will remind me of my college days, +when, if I may say so, I numbered many charming English ladies among +my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m dining with Major Harding to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +It gave Leslie untold pleasure to be able to say this. Those other +“charming English ladies” this specimen of educated African referred +to would hardly have been invited to grace Harding’s table. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that not somewhat unusual?” +</p> + +<p> +“Unusual! What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fancied from what I saw of English society—I may, of course, have +been mistaken—that it was not customary for young ladies, +unchaperoned, to go to the residences of their gentlemen friends.” +</p> + +<p> +A small face, very white and cold, looked back unflinchingly at the +leering, insinuating black one. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not a member of English society now, so I needn’t consider its +customs.” +</p> + +<p> +With that Leslie turned her back on him. She crossed to where Molly +was sitting. There she stayed for a few minutes, watching the crowd of +black faces that seemed suddenly to bear down upon her, bowing coldly +as Cooper introduced his various friends. +</p> + +<p> +With a sense of unspeakable relief she heard her hammock announced. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie was jogged along to Harding’s bungalow, she found it in her +heart to wish she had taken Lebrassa’s advice and remained in England. +Although Molly had warned her what to expect from the white side, she +had not said what Leslie might have to put up with from the black. +</p> + +<p> +She was very quiet and subdued during her dinner with the Major, so +much so that he was sorely tempted to ask what the matter was. +</p> + +<p> +However, during the course of dessert, she told him of her own accord. +</p> + +<p> +“Major Harding, it was kind of you to ask me here to-night. Molly has +a dinner party on, so I hesitated about coming here because of that. +But she insisted on my coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry if my invitation clashed with Mrs. Cooper’s arrangements.” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t matter in the least. I… I’d much rather be here.” +</p> + +<p> +Wondering what had happened, in a very fatherly manner he looked +across at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever you feel ‘you’d much rather be here,’ come without waiting +for any invitation. I want you to look upon my bungalow as your second +home, a place you can run in and out of just as you wish. Whenever +Cooper has friends, you come to me. For I don’t think you’ll care much +for colored society.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s big, beautiful eyes suddenly grew moist. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t think I shall,” she said huskily. +</p> + +<p> +By now Harding knew what the matter was. He turned the conversation +into other channels. And as they talked together, he wondered how long +it would be before this foolish, quixotic little girl came and told +him she had decided to return to England. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +CHAPTER XIII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>What is the tale you are telling?</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was midnight when Leslie arrived back at the garden gate of +Cooper’s residence. Dismissing the hammock and its bearers, she went +up the silent, leafy path alone. Everything around her lay still and +unmoved, as if carved out in black and white marble. And the streaming +flood of moonlight had swept away all life and sound. +</p> + +<p> +However, as she neared the bungalow a sudden burst of laughter brought +her to a halt. It announced that Cooper’s guests were still there. The +fact sent her down a side path, with the idea of staying in the garden +until she was quite sure they had departed. +</p> + +<p> +For some distance she went along, until a wide stone seat was reached, +set in a secluded corner under a trio of palms. Close by, a fountain +bubbled from a moss-grown gargoyle into a deep, clear pool set round +with a wealth of ferns. The soft, warm air was heavy with the +intoxicating odors of a thousand tropical flowers. Occasionally the +trees sighed softly as a faint, scented breeze stirred them. +</p> + +<p> +It was a garden to dream in, a place of almost unearthly beauty, yet +over it hung a dreadful black shadow, so dense that at times it +blotted out all its charm. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a slight movement just behind her made Leslie turn +quickly. Coming round the side of the seat was something quite small +and not in the least terrifying. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie had always imagined fairies to be white, but this one was +brown. Moreover the average fairy has on some sort of drapery. But +this wore only a string of blue beads round its neck, and a gold +bangle on one fat wrist. +</p> + +<p> +Hesitatingly it advanced, very naked and very unashamed, one finger in +its mouth, and staring at her with great, solemn, dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Reassuringly she smiled. It was quite the funniest wee thing she had +ever seen. Some one’s small girl-baby who had strayed into the garden. +</p> + +<p> +Then to the civilized mind came the feeling it needed some sort of +drapery. Leslie took a silk shawl from her shoulders, wrapped it +around the tiny golden-brown statue, and lifted it to her knee. +</p> + +<p> +There it stayed, still sucking a finger and staring at her gravely. +</p> + +<p> +On the seat was a box of chocolates Harding had given her. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie put one in the baby’s mouth. It was eaten with evident relish. +Then a fat finger rubbed her shoulder in a way most openly interested +and curious. +</p> + +<p> +It was so absurd, having that soft little finger rubbing her as if to +remove the coating of white that Leslie laughed. And her laughter made +a tiny brown face screw up in a companion smile. +</p> + +<p> +All at once the tinkle of barbaric ornaments made Leslie glance round +again. +</p> + +<p> +A woman was coming towards her, quite a savage, with nothing more than +a cloth draping her, and a profusion of gold and ivory ornaments. +</p> + +<p> +With a friendly smile Leslie looked at the newcomer. Doubtless she was +the brown baby’s mother in search of her truant offspring. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this your little girl?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. As Leslie had spoken in English, she had not +really expected one. But the mournful expression in the woman’s great, +dark eyes made her quick sympathy rise; there was so much pleading in +them, such unutterable sadness. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” she asked gently. +</p> + +<p> +Although Yoni did not understand what Leslie said, she heard the +kindness in the white girl’s voice. And this fact brought her to her +knees, pouring out a flood of wild, heart-broken, imploring words. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie placed a hand on the brown woman’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered in a gentle, +distressed manner. “I wish I did, and then perhaps I could help you.” +</p> + +<p> +It was just as well that Leslie did not understand what Yoni was +saying. +</p> + +<p> +The latter belonged to a race used to sharing a man’s heart with half +a dozen other women. She was imploring Leslie to be merciful, to spare +her one scrap of their lord’s affection, referring to her child to +prove she had some claim on him, offering to be this new Star’s slave +and servant if only one corner of their mutual master’s heart were +given back into her keeping. +</p> + +<p> +Carefully, Leslie held the solemn brown baby, wondering what the +trouble was, feeling the outbreak was caused by something more than +the temporary loss of the child. +</p> + +<p> +As she sat there, puzzled and distressed, she heard some one coming +along the path. A moment later there was a quick, fierce movement +followed by a savage, guttural exclamation, startling in its unbridled +ferocity. +</p> + +<p> +The sound made the white woman jump up quickly and the black one +crouch down, shrinking against the skirt of her supposed rival. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie had always feared that somewhere in Lebrassa, in spite of +education and the tone good breeding brings, the latent savage might +linger. Now it seemed to her that she had never seen so much +concentrated fury on any face before. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, Mr. Lebrassa? What has made you so angry?” she +asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Her voice seemed to penetrate his fury. He stopped abruptly. There was +a tense strained feeling in the air, as if he were wrestling with a +very demon of wild rage. In the passion of the moment he forgot that +lack of a common tongue barred out all conversation between the two +women. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear I startled you, Miss Graham,” he said hoarsely, “but I thought +this woman had molested and frightened you.” +</p> + +<p> +Rather nervously Leslie laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“She hasn’t frightened me. But you did though, coming stampeding down +that path like a rogue elephant.” +</p> + +<p> +Her reply said she had learnt nothing of who and what Yoni really was. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m truly sorry,” he said, “but you frightened me first. I heard you +come in, but as you did not appear in the bungalow I began to wonder +what had happened. So I searched the garden and came upon you in this +secluded corner, annoyed, as I thought, by this woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Yoni still knelt by Leslie’s side, holding her frock in a desperate +clutch, with wild eyes watching Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants to tell me something,” Leslie replied. “But I can’t +understand a word she says, so now you can translate for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s rather late to start sifting native grievances. Besides you +mustn’t stay out in this treacherous night air. Let me take you +indoors.” +</p> + +<p> +Although he spoke in his customary bored, indifferent manner, there +was an air of forced calm about him that spoke of a tornado raging +within. +</p> + +<p> +Sensing trouble, Leslie stuck to her guns. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to help her if I could. She’s so upset. Do ask her what the +matter is?” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa suddenly realized that if he refused, Leslie might take Yoni +up to the bungalow and get one of the servants to act as interpreter. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni’s threat to expose him he had taken for what he knew it was +worth, but it had never entered his mind that she would dare to accost +Leslie. The fact maddened him, both by its unexpectedness and the +thought of what the consequences would have been if one of the +servants had found the two together. It would have swept away all he +was working for—the desperate hope that Leslie might overlook his +color and marry him. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni’s latest escapade, combined with previous acts of disobedience +that needed all his powerful brain to cope with, made him merciless +where she was concerned. +</p> + +<p> +He spoke to the kneeling woman, asking her how she dared disobey his +orders, and what she meant by accosting this English lady. +</p> + +<p> +In deadly fear Yoni whimpered out her reason. The explanation, if +possible, increased his rage. His infuriated reply, with the death +note in it that she had heard before for others, made her shrink +closer into the sanctuary of Leslie’s skirt, quick to know that there +her one hope of safety lay. +</p> + +<p> +The girl noticed Yoni’s terror and her convulsive shivers. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you said to make her so frightened?” she asked, laying a +protecting hand on the woman’s dark shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I was telling her to go away and not worry you. It’s some domestic +grievance. Nothing you can rectify,” he replied with an air of forced +calm. +</p> + +<p> +“She hasn’t worried me. But you’ve made the poor thing think she’s +done something terrible. Now say something nice to her.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s only idea was to separate the two. But this was not so +easily done. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s kind heart, quick to sympathize with him, was equally quick +to respond to Yoni. She knew the matter was more serious than Lebrassa +would have her believe. And she was determined not to let her visitor +go until all fear was soothed. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t let her go while she’s so terrified,” the girl continued, +“because she didn’t look like that before you came. And there’s not +the least need for you to be angry with her.” +</p> + +<p> +It dawned on Lebrassa that before he could part the two Yoni would +have to be forgiven. +</p> + +<p> +Turning to her, with forced gentleness he said a few words. They +brought her prostrate before him. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of a woman at a man’s feet left Leslie aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“She mustn’t do that!” she cried in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +Then she was half-kneeling before Lebrassa also, trying vainly, with +her one disengaged arm, to raise Yoni. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave her alone, child,” he commanded in a strangled, wrathful voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Help her up. Don’t stand there looking as if you expected it,” she +replied with indignation. +</p> + +<p> +For no reason at all that Leslie could see, Lebrassa laughed. It +cleared the air. Bending down, he raised the prostrate woman to her +feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what else am I to do?” he asked, turning to Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +There was about him the air of a subdued wild beast, pleased and +purring under the caressing touch of a favorite keeper. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell her to take the baby home.” +</p> + +<p> +Turning to Yoni, he delivered the message, together with one of his +own. His words brought her kneeling at Leslie’s feet, pouring out a +torrent of words. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s she saying now?” the girl asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That she’s your slave for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want any slaves. Tell her to go home and put the baby to +bed.” +</p> + +<p> +A further word from Lebrassa brought Yoni to her feet and sent her +down an adjacent path. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie watched her go. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so glad you were nice to her,” she remarked. “I hate to see +people miserable.” +</p> + +<p> +Apparently Lebrassa had forgotten about the “treacherous night air.” +Instead of taking Leslie back to the house, he started talking. +</p> + +<p> +“What made you wander about the garden at this hour?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie gave only part of her reason. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it’s all so beautiful. I like Africa by moonlight.” +</p> + +<p> +“In my old age I find myself going back to the tastes of my youth,” he +replied. “I’m heartily tired of Africa and craving for civilization. +I’ve just one scheme to put through, and if I can manage that in the +way I hope, I shall retire and settle down in Europe—Italy or Spain +preferably, where I wouldn’t be too conspicuous, where not one in +twenty would put me down for what I really am—a nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +With a gentle smile Leslie looked up at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you try to forget about that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I can’t, though I’ve sought oblivion in various ways.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment her only desire was to get his thoughts away from a +subject she knew was painful. +</p> + +<p> +“What scheme are you working on now?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +With veiled tenderness he looked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“When it’s through I’ll tell you,” he replied. “And if it comes off in +the way I want, I may forget, or rather, perhaps cease to worry over +the fact that God, or more possibly the devil, made me half a nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie glanced at him. +</p> + +<p> +For some reason the same vague frightened feeling was upon her that +had assailed her in Liverpool when Lebrassa had spoken of his rose +garden that was “some distance from Calabar.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +CHAPTER XIV +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>If we met, he and I—we alone—we two—</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Would I give him one moment’s grace to pray?</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">On</span> the plateau behind Duke Town, where several official bungalows +were situated, only one showed any sign of habitation. From there a +blaze of light flared out, cutting like a gigantic knife into the +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +In this one lighted room silence reigned, a silence broken by the ping +of the ever-present mosquito and the occasional clink of ice on glass. +The latter sound came from a table where three men sat playing cards +to an accompaniment of whiskey and soda. +</p> + +<p> +Through the open door leading to the balcony came the lash of driving +rain and the steady pour of the torrent rushing down from the +corrugated iron roof. +</p> + +<p> +Between the deals Harding looked across at his guests. +</p> + +<p> +“You two will have to spend the night here,” he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +With the readiness of bachelor freedom, Fletcher and Atherley agreed. +</p> + +<p> +For the next half-hour the game went on without a break. One o’clock +chimed as Fletcher rose to fetch a further supply of soda-water from +the sideboard. +</p> + +<p> +As he stood there a slight noise out on the balcony made him glance +towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Heavens! What is that?” he cried, darting in that direction. +</p> + +<p> +His voice made the other men look round, and what they saw brought +them to their feet. +</p> + +<p> +A girl stood in the doorway, a little thing of mud and blood and long +loose wet hair where golden stars flashed. +</p> + +<p> +She stood for a moment gazing at them. Then she laughed, a wild, sweet +sound, and ran toward Fletcher, collapsing just as he reached her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, child? What has happened?” he asked hoarsely, as he +caught her. +</p> + +<p> +Only meaningless laughter answered him. +</p> + +<p> +Over Leslie’s dripping head, he looked at Harding and Atherley. +</p> + +<p> +“My God, if he has injured her! My God, if he has injured her!” he +said in cold, merciless reiteration. +</p> + +<p> +By now the Major’s arm was about Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, little girl,” he said soothingly. “You’re quite safe +now. You’re in my bungalow. Don’t you remember? You had dinner here +last night.” +</p> + +<p> +But the wild sobbing laughter went on, the result of a brain that had +given way under some dreadful strain. +</p> + +<p> +Over Leslie’s sobbing mirth Atherley’s voice came. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me have a look at her. Bring her in here, Fletcher,” he said, +leading the way to one of the bedrooms. +</p> + +<p> +He turned toward Harding. +</p> + +<p> +“Go round and rouse the cook and tell him to send one of his women +here at once.” +</p> + +<p> +In a dazed way Harding obeyed the doctor’s orders. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher went back to the sitting-room and stood there until Harding +returned. When the Major came in, he crossed to a sideboard and, +opening one of the drawers, took out a couple of revolvers. One he +handed to Fletcher. +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t do any good here,” he said tensely. “So we’ll get along to +Cooper’s place and hear what he has to say about Miss Graham’s +plight.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently, with storm-proof lanterns, the two officers started across +the black, rain-washed plain. +</p> + +<p> +Cooper’s bungalow lay about a mile away. As they neared the place, +Harding stumbled over an unnoticed heap lying huddled on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +At once Fletcher switched his lantern on to it. +</p> + +<p> +“Something ghastly has been happening here,” he said. “Look at this.” +</p> + +<p> +Harding gave an exclamation of horror. +</p> + +<p> +What he had stumbled over was the corpse of a negro servant, hacked +and mutilated out of all human semblance. +</p> + +<p> +“What fiend’s work is this?” he asked hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +As if the sight were no new one, Fletcher gazed at the corpse. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s get on to the house,” he said in a brooding manner, “and see +how much more of this there is.” +</p> + +<p> +They went up the dripping, leafy alley, passing two similar heaps +within the next hundred yards. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks as though there had been a general massacre here,” Harding +commented as the third heap was passed, “and that these poor wretches +had been flying for their lives.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher said nothing, but each corpse they came to made his face more +tense and thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +The house was reached at last. +</p> + +<p> +Strangely large and haunted it loomed up out of the pouring rain. A +sense of dire tragedy had gripped the two Englishmen. This increased +as they mounted the balcony steps and went toward the one lighted +room, which lay eerie and lifeless, in spite of the gay flare of +rose-colored lamps. There was no vestige of the human sounds that +should have accompanied those gay lights; nothing but the ceaseless +drip of rain, the mournful sough of the wind through wet trees, the +echo of their own footsteps, and the soft tapping of sodden roses on +the balcony rail. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the open door, abruptly they halted, aghast at the scene +of desolation and destruction that lay before them. +</p> + +<p> +The pink carpet was muddy and blood-stained, and covered with the +marks of great, naked feet. The mirrors were smashed to atoms. The +furniture broken into splinters. The whole place looked as though an +army of maniacs had held riot there. There were four corpses in the +room, but one lay white and peaceful among the pale pink cushions of a +lounge, her white lace dress blood-stained, her shoes in a thick red +pool that oozed from a dismembered, mangled corpse at her feet. +</p> + +<p> +In awed silence Harding and Fletcher crossed to the lounge. They gazed +down at the dead girl, noting a little wet red patch in her golden +hair. Then Fletcher stooped and turned over one of the two naked +bodies lying face downwards on the carpet beside the mangled remains +that had once been Cooper. +</p> + +<p> +As he turned the corpse over, a savage, bestial face crudely scarred +and marked met his view. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so,” he said grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” Harding asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“This is some of the Hyena’s work. I’ve been on his trail too often +not to recognize the signs. I suspected it when we saw that first +mutilated corpse outside. Now I’m sure. I should know these +dog-toothed devils of his anywhere,” he said, glancing again at the +savage figure at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“This rather explodes your theory about Lebrassa,” Harding commented. +</p> + +<p> +“Explodes it!” Fletcher echoed. “Not unless I find his corpse hacked +up in a similar manner,” he finished grimly. +</p> + +<p> +Then his gaze went to Molly, lying quiet and still among the pillows +so peaceful-looking that she might have been asleep. And from her his +eyes wandered down to a revolver still clenched in one of the hands of +the mangled heap at her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Cooper shot her, poor little woman, rather than let her fall into the +clutches of these fiends. And thank heaven he did!” +</p> + +<p> +Going from the drawing-room, the two officers went around to the back +premises where the servants’ quarters were situated. The whole place +was like a slaughter-house, not a soul left alive. Every room was +trampled, mud-splashed and red-stained, as though a horde of wild +beasts had burst in searching for what they could kill. +</p> + +<p> +But nowhere did Fletcher find what he was looking for—some trace of +Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder how that little girl escaped,” he remarked, taking a long +shred of muslin, that matched the tattered remains of Leslie’s frock, +from among the splinters of a wooden table, “for she was here, right +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should say Lebrassa got her away and was killed in doing so,” +Harding replied. +</p> + +<p> +In a harsh, mirthless manner Fletcher laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go on to his factory and see if he’s there,” was all he said. +</p> + +<p> +They left the bungalow and pressed on through the deserted night. No +sound reached them as they went along, except the steady pour of the +rain, the constant drip of the trees and the sobbing moan of the wind. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the factory all was silence and darkness. No light showed +in the upper rooms, nor was there a sign of life anywhere about. +</p> + +<p> +With the idea of making an examination of the lower storey, they +started walking round the place. +</p> + +<p> +By the open door of one of the back storerooms, Fletcher came to a +sharp halt. +</p> + +<p> +“Some one has been here,” he remarked. “The same little crew who were +up above.” +</p> + +<p> +Holding up his lantern, he showed his companion great, red marks on +the white paint, where bloody paws pushed the door along on its +rollers. +</p> + +<p> +“And look at this,” he added on entering. +</p> + +<p> +A whole litter of stores lay about, covered with ominous red marks and +mud, as if a crowd had searched around hastily for certain articles, +casting aside everything except just what they desired. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher surveyed the débris—scattered hammocks, waterproof rugs, +silk shawls, and cases of edibles. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks to me as if some one had arranged a very hurried departure +up-country. And he had not intended to go alone, either. A man of +Lebrassa’s type doesn’t take this sort of junk on a forced journey.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s foot touched a wooden case marked “Chicken in aspic,” which +had been crudely pried open and a dozen or so tins snatched out. +</p> + +<p> +“If Lebrassa isn’t upstairs, then he’s at the bottom of this, and he +<i>is</i> the Hyena.” +</p> + +<p> +Harding made no comment. In silence they left the storeroom and went +toward the balcony. Noiselessly Fletcher went up the stairs with his +lantern well down against the wooden steps. They showed clean and +white, with none of the muddy marks that had been on Cooper’s veranda, +but it was quite possible the pouring rain might have washed off all +traces of the marauders. +</p> + +<p> +But when the covered part of the balcony was reached, he suddenly +grasped Harding’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so quick,” he whispered. “There’s a little matter here we’d +better investigate before going any further. What do you think of +this?” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to a track of muddy feet, shod ones, a solitary pair, that +went along the spotless boards to the accompaniment of a trail of +water, telling plainly that some drenched person had passed that way +not so very long before. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks like Lebrassa’s trail,” Harding whispered. “I’m anxious to +hear what he has to say about to-night’s business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not as anxious as I am,” Fletcher responded grimly. “But I doubt if +we shall be given an opportunity.” +</p> + +<p> +With screened lanterns, stealthily the two continued their journey. +Presently they turned the corner of the side where Lebrassa’s +living-rooms were situated. On reaching the first of the dark windows +they paused, listening for any sound that might come from the rooms +beyond. +</p> + +<p> +All was silent. Out from the black night came the mournful swish of +sodden palm trees and the constant roar of the downpour. +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t look as if any one’s at home,” Harding whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. But for all that we’ll be wise to announce ourselves with +caution.” +</p> + +<p> +Drawing their revolvers, they took a few stealthy steps forward and +then halted. +</p> + +<p> +In front of them the living-room door stood wide open. Into it the +trail of muddy feet went. But there was no sign of their returning. +</p> + +<p> +Looking and listening they peered into the darkness, but they saw and +heard nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you there, Lebrassa?” Harding called sharply. +</p> + +<p> +All was silent. +</p> + +<p> +They waited for a few moments, then entered, flashing their lanterns +quickly around the room. It was deserted, but all was straight and +orderly. +</p> + +<p> +The trail of the shod, muddy feet and stream of dripping water went +across the white matting into a room beyond. +</p> + +<p> +The two visitors followed the trail into a plainly furnished bedroom. +There was no sign of life there either. But in one corner lay a heap +of dripping, muddy clothes. +</p> + +<p> +“What does that mean?” Harding asked, gazing at the pile. +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly that we must look for Lebrassa in a very different guise +from any Calabar knows.” +</p> + +<p> +They turned to make a survey of a third chamber. +</p> + +<p> +This proved to be a study, sparsely but suitably furnished. There were +choice engravings on the walls and cases of classical books; and on +the writing desk, a solitary white rose in a crystal vase. +</p> + +<p> +English, French, German and Italian reviews and papers were scattered +on the tables and couches; there was every sign of education and +culture. +</p> + +<p> +All this Fletcher noticed. But most of all he noticed the half-blown +white rose that reminded him of Leslie, as it stood there fresh and +sweet and pure, and so lonely. +</p> + +<p> +As if he hated to see the blossom in the mulatto’s possession, he +crossed to the desk, and taking it from the vase, held it tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder who and what Lebrassa really is,” he said. “He can be the +devil incarnate, yet this room shows quite another side of him.” +</p> + +<p> +In some surprise Harding was gazing about the study. +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing at all about him,” he confessed. “During my time in +Calabar, he has gone his own way, ignoring both black and white, +holding occasional mad orgies in that slaughter-house on the hill, +which has given him an unsavory reputation throughout the Bight. I’d +never noticed him much until this voyage out. And I must say his good +manners and correct behavior surprised me, considering the reputation +he held.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher made no immediate reply. Thoughtfully he looked at the white +rosebud he was caressing. +</p> + +<p> +“I always have thought, and shall think,” he volunteered presently, +“that he knows more of Miss Graham’s history and who and what her +father was than the girl herself does. And I’m certain he was at the +bottom of her coming out here. To-night the climax arrived. Whether +Cooper endeavoring to spoke his wheel brought about the tragedy up +there I don’t know. But one thing I do know—whether he wants Miss +Graham for motives known only to himself, or because he’s infatuated +with her, he’ll stop at nothing to get her back again.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s rather apart from your Hyena theory,” Harding remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“The whole business is beyond me,” Fletcher confessed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’d better push on, and see what his employees have to say.” +</p> + +<p> +Retracing their steps, they went along a narrow forest track which led +to a cluster of native huts lying some quarter of a mile away. There, +everything was in order, and no clue to the night’s happenings could +be culled from the sleepy inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the tiny hamlet, they went along the river bank, choosing a +different route for the homeward journey. Presently they turned into a +little, tree-lined path leading up to the plateau. For some minutes +they pushed on through the driving rain, the wind full in their faces. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a sound reached them of some one coming swiftly down the +narrow way. Quickly the two officers came to a halt and veiled their +lanterns. +</p> + +<p> +By now the rain had ceased, and a fitful moon gave a silver tinge to +the night. +</p> + +<p> +As the two officers waited, peering intently ahead through the vague +gray of mist and moonlight, out of a side track a few yards ahead a +figure loomed, rendered very big and shadowy by the fog. +</p> + +<p> +Coming toward them was what appeared to be a coal-black negro, naked +but for a loin cloth. Over his shoulder what seemed to be a thick, +folded rug was slung. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing the two Englishmen, he turned abruptly into the thick growth +lining the track, and went swiftly through the screening forest. +</p> + +<p> +As he turned Fletcher caught a glimpse of his face. In an instant his +revolver rang out, but a hand jogged his elbow, spoiling his aim. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you thinking about, man?” Harding cried angrily. “You can’t +go about shooting at every nigger you see.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher, however, rushed after the negro, firing as he ran. One shot +reached home, for the man’s right arm fell limp. +</p> + +<p> +Facing round savagely, the negro dropped to his knees, slid his +shrouded burden to the ground, and crouched over it as if to screen +the contents from the pepper of bullets. +</p> + +<p> +His hand went to his loin cloth. He drew out a revolver, and started +firing at Fletcher. Although the shots were left-handed two whizzed +uncomfortably close to the latter’s head, and a third found a home in +the big muscle of his right arm. +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting to load his own weapon, Fletcher dashed on, to be +felled by a thunderous blow that changed his reckless fury to +blackness and dancing stars. But although he was half-stunned, he +clutched and held on to the bundle the negro was protecting. +</p> + +<p> +“By hell! You shall pay for this,” a mad voice bellowed in English. +</p> + +<p> +Through the stars and blackness Fletcher heard it, and it made him +cling desperately to the blanket the dark hands tried to snatch from +him. +</p> + +<p> +Relief came from behind. +</p> + +<p> +Before the negro could wrest his shrouded burden from Fletcher’s +stunned grip, Harding’s revolver rang out. +</p> + +<p> +The shot would have been fatal but for the deceptive fog. As it was, +it brought the blood streaming down the negro’s face from a scalp +wound. Dashing the blood from his eyes, the massive black figure broke +away, leaving the bundle in Fletcher’s hold. +</p> + +<p> +Harding flew after the negro. But the sounds of his progress drifted +farther and farther off, until they were lost in the night. +</p> + +<p> +Pausing, he listened, but no echo came from the surrounding darkness. +Then, quickly, he retraced his steps to where Fletcher was kneeling, +the blood streaming from his arm, beside the bundle the negro had +dropped and fought over. +</p> + +<p> +As if petrified Harding stopped, surprised beyond speech at the sight +the lantern showed. +</p> + +<p> +In the blanket Leslie lay, dead asleep—in the deep unconsciousness of +drugged slumber. +</p> + +<p> +His presence roused Fletcher. +</p> + +<p> +“You infernal idiot! That was the Hyena. Lebrassa. The devil +incarnate! And but for your damned interference I should have killed +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Harding said nothing. By now he had realized that what Fletcher said +was true. Getting out his handkerchief he bound up his companion’s +wounded arm. Then he picked up the sleeping girl. +</p> + +<p> +The two continued their journey in silence. Nothing more could be done +until headquarters were reached. +</p> + +<p> +On arriving at the major’s bungalow all was chaos. Half a dozen sleepy +servants wandered about aimlessly, unable to tell them anything except +that Atherley had gone to rouse the other officers. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, all wet and dishevelled, the doctor came in. His story was +very simple—so much so, that when he saw Leslie still asleep among +the pillows from which she had been snatched barely half an hour +before, he felt like doubting the truth of his own statements. +</p> + +<p> +After Leslie’s sleeping draught had taken effect, he had left her in +charge of the cook’s wife while he went back to the dining-room to put +away his drugs. A few minutes later he had returned to the bedroom to +find the negress bound and gagged and her charge gone. +</p> + +<p> +As Atherley probed about in the fleshy part of Fletcher’s arm on the +track of Lebrassa’s bullet, the events of the night were told to him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a queer affair altogether,” he said. “And the whole of this +night’s work we shan’t know until Miss Graham recovers. But this final +act shows how much Lebrassa will risk. He came here knowing this would +be the sanctuary she would make for, and hung about outside awaiting +his opportunity, relying on his disguise. What Miss Graham has said +about her father proves he was a hunted man. And, in the face of the +little we know, this goes to prove that Lebrassa was his enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +Turning towards a side table, Atherley picked up a heavy gold armlet. +Its plain surface was embossed with stars, the clasp a hyena’s head, +the whole slightly twisted, as if the soft metal had been bent into +some desired shape. +</p> + +<p> +“You have told me that Miss Graham said when her father was ill he +used to rave about a place called Kallu, which he said was not in +Africa. This proves the contrary, and shows Lebrassa as something more +than the Hyena.” +</p> + +<p> +Atherley held the armlet towards the two officers. +</p> + +<p> +“This thing,” he continued, “was round Miss Graham’s head, evidently +put there by its owner. Read what’s inside.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher took the jewel and glanced at an Arabic inscription engraved +on the inner surface. +</p> + +<p> +This ran: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Essel, Sultan of Kallu, Lord of Doomana, Ruler of the Night, Heir of +all Darkness.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The captain read the words aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s an all-powerful sound about it,” Harding remarked. “Yet I +don’t know of any such place as Kallu.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” Atherley chimed in, “until Fletcher told me about it in +connection with Miss Graham. Now it occurs to me to wonder if her +father found the place and that was why he was hunted and I should +say, finally, trapped, considering his mysterious disappearance. Now +the mantle of vengeance has descended against the daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if Lebrassa wanted to kill her he’s had every opportunity,” +Harding pointed out. +</p> + +<p> +“But he may have wanted to do it in some special place and at the +appointed season, after the manner of negro rites,” Atherley replied. +</p> + +<p> +So far Fletcher had said nothing. He just held the armlet looking at +it thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +Now he chimed in. +</p> + +<p> +“Blood feud and vengeance may have been at the bottom of it all +originally,” he said, “but in my opinion Lebrassa reckoned without +himself, without the white side which we know can be very dominant. A +man may be as big a brute as the Hyena yet to the end there’s +generally one thing that will bring any good that may be in him to the +fore. And that is love.” +</p> + +<p> +Pausing, Fletcher laid the armlet down on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve studied Lebrassa and I know Miss Graham,” he continued. “She’s +so frank and innocent and high-minded, without a thought or idea of +evil in her head that she would attract him apart from the added charm +of her <i>spirituelle</i> appearance. On the voyage it was obvious that his +only idea when with her was to make a good impression. He may have +started with the idea of working off some blood feud, but it ended in +his own complete infatuation.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Harding put in. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure of it,” Fletcher said emphatically. “Such a love as his, the +wild passion of a blood-stained, half-caste African sultan, would only +fill a well-bred English girl with horror. Miss Graham had no idea +what she was dealing with. The mere fact of her being civil to him +would fan the spark into flame. I tried to warn her, but he was always +too clever for me. Any doubts I raised he speedily lulled. To-night’s +work may be the outcome of his rejected suit.” +</p> + +<p> +Picking up the armlet again, Fletcher eyed it in a contemplative +manner. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s impossible to say how far Lebrassa’s influence extends, for this +thing seems to point to his being not only sultan, but priest. In +these capacities I know nothing of him. But I know him as that +mysterious raider, the Hyena. What he’ll do from sheer daring and +deviltry will be nothing compared to the lengths passion and +infatuation will carry him. It would be better for Miss Graham had he +kept to his original intention and killed her. Knowing the man as I +know him, I fear he’ll get her into his possession again, in spite of +all we may do.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your suggestion then?” Harding asked. “Lebrassa’s not going to +have her if I can help it.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must get her out of the country the moment she’s able to travel. +And in such a way that nobody except ourselves knows where she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“If Lebrassa is as all-powerful as this leads us to believe, that will +be difficult. He’ll have spies all around the place, watching our +every movement,” Atherley commented. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher made no reply. He was looking at the armlet speculatively, as +if measuring his strength against that of Lebrassa. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +CHAPTER XV +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Yet, I warn’d you—ah! but my words came true—</i></span><br> +<span class="i0">‘<i>Perhaps some day you will find him out.</i>’ ”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> story now goes back to the afternoon preceding the events in the +previous chapter. +</p> + +<p> +Along a narrow forest track leading to a native village, Leslie and +Lebrassa were walking. They had come up the river by boat, landing +within easy distance of the place. +</p> + +<p> +The path was the merest jungle trail, twisting through aisles of +strange trees grown over with bright, flowering creepers. +</p> + +<p> +In course of time the village was reached. Their arrival was heralded +by the barking of dogs—a continuous chorus that brought the +inhabitants out from their huts. +</p> + +<p> +The hamlet was prettily situated among lime, palm and pawpaw trees. +And over the quaint brown huts, plantains, bananas and bamboo +fluttered. Outside each doorway, over fires made between four big +stones, the evening stew was being prepared. The smell was so +pronounced that Leslie made inquiries about the ingredients. She heard +its basis was well-hung fish, or dog, or monkey, seasoned with red +peppers, with palm oil added as a flavoring. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of wanting to see something really African, she was startled +by the villagers’ ways. For they lived and acted in a manner +alarmingly primitive. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, have you had enough of the undiluted savage?” Lebrassa asked +presently, as the girl’s face grew whiter and her eyes ever bigger. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d no idea they’d be quite so… so primitive,” she said in a rather +breathless manner. +</p> + +<p> +But for his foresight the village would have been even more primitive. +Lebrassa had sent instructions that the inhabitants must be on their +best behavior and decently clad. As it was, there were no adults going +about in a state of nature or acting in the manner of cattle. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we go and have a look at something civilized in the shape of +tea,” he suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“I am awfully thirsty,” Leslie said, glad of an excuse to escape from +what seemed to her a crowd of absolute savages. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa took her to a large hut on the outskirts of the village. +There was something about the place that suggested it had been +furnished for the occasion. The crude contents were supplemented by a +couple of comfortable wicker chairs and a folding table where a +tea-basket reposed. Leaving the girl in the hut, he went in search of +water fit for drinking purposes. During his absence, Leslie explored +the dwelling. There were two rooms, and in the inner one was +everything essential for a welcomed “wash and brush up” after a hot, +stifling walk in the tropics. +</p> + +<p> +Tea was set, cakes and biscuits laid out when she came through the +curtain screening the inner room. +</p> + +<p> +By the table Lebrassa stood, watching the kettle he had set to boil on +a spirit stove. +</p> + +<p> +Her entrance made him look up. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in your survey of the African at home, what impressed you the +most?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie could have said the scanty clothing, but she mentioned only a +secondary impression. +</p> + +<p> +“That the women were doing most of the work and the men loafing +about.” +</p> + +<p> +Her reply brought to his face the slightly teasing look that came +occasionally when he talked to her. +</p> + +<p> +“But think, Miss Graham, if a man has half a dozen wives he can’t +afford to keep them all in idleness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have they half a dozen wives?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“More—some of them. And if you care to argue the point I can prove +that out here in Africa, among a race of savages, women are more +highly prized and thought more of than in England.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite see how you’re going to do that.” +</p> + +<p> +The slightly pugnacious note in her voice made his teasing look +deepen. +</p> + +<p> +“In England when a woman marries, her father ‘gives her away’—not +only gives her away, but very often a considerable sum of money is +added to a dowry. But out here in Africa, does a dusky parent give his +daughter away, much less pay to get rid of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“What nonsense you talk at times.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not nonsense. I’m arguing my case. Out here if a man wants to +marry a woman he has to give some substantial proof of his affection. +‘Does this young fellow love my daughter sufficiently to give <i>me</i> +three goats, two lengths of Manchester cloth, a case of gin and a +cuckoo clock?’ the dusky parent argues. ‘If not, I won’t give my girl +in marriage with a man whose affection is so limited that he won’t +deny himself a few little bachelor luxuries in order to get the +evidence I need.’ Now I ask you in cold, calm logic, which lover is +more worthy of the name, which father esteems his daughter higher?” +</p> + +<p> +“How absurd you are! Logic has nothing to do with it.” +</p> + +<p> +Her indignant reply made him laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re trying to draw a red herring across the trail,” he said. +“Logically you know I’m right. Sentimentally, of course, I’m very much +off the line. A wife who comes to her husband in the recognized +English way, for the great and simple reason of love, is immeasurably +above one obtained in either of the two recognized African +methods—buying and stealing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stealing!” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s voice was full of horror. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not much done in these more civilized parts,” he explained. “But +up-country it frequently happens.” +</p> + +<p> +The kettle boiling turned Lebrassa’s thoughts to tea-making. +</p> + +<p> +When the meal was over, one or two inquisitive little black faces +peering with fearsome interest in at the doorway took Leslie’s +attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind if I give them these cakes and biscuits now we’ve +finished?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you may,” he answered quickly. “Why trouble to ask?” +</p> + +<p> +With all the remnants on a tray Leslie left the hut, distributing the +scraps among the children collected outside. +</p> + +<p> +“There wasn’t one there as nice as my brown baby,” she remarked on +returning. +</p> + +<p> +“Which do you call your brown baby?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The one I found in the garden last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that,” Lebrassa said in a forced, offhand manner. +</p> + +<p> +“None of the women here were anything like as good-looking as its +mother,” the girl continued. “What beautiful ivory armlets she wore, +did you notice them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that I did, specially,” he replied, with the same air of +simulated indifference. +</p> + +<p> +“They had stars carved on them,” Leslie persisted, continuing a +subject that obviously interested her. “I once had an armlet like +hers, but mine was made of gold. And inside was an Arabic inscription. +A friend translated it to me and he said it meant, ‘Irena, Queen of +Kallu, Daughter of the Stars, Bride of the Night, Beloved of +Darkness.’ I often wonder who she was and where my father got it from. +I never even knew he had it until after he was… lost.” +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie talked, a strained look came and deepened on Lebrassa’s dark +face. When she finished he made no remark. Instead, he sat in gloomy +silence. +</p> + +<p> +A faint sigh roused him. It came, not from his companion, but from the +forest outside. A low, moaning rush followed. This made him start up +quickly and go to the door. There was a sudden mad shriek, as if all +the winds of the world were loosed. Leslie came to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” she asked, with alarm. +</p> + +<p> +There was no need to answer the question. The horizon was a mass of +blood-red and indigo—the lurid tints of an approaching tornado. +</p> + +<p> +Before he could answer her question the first great, blinding streak +of lightning shot across the sky. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have to wait here until this storm passes off,” he remarked +casually. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie sat down again, listening to the storm that came ever closer, +until the murky, thunder-ridden clouds cast the gloom of twilight over +the scene. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a flash of lightning and a deafening peal directly overhead +made her glance at Lebrassa who was leaning carelessly against the +lintel watching the storm, and apparently in no way disturbed by its +violence. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t seem to mind,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve seen many of the sort. The other day you were asking for +something typically African. Now you’ve got it—a typically African +tornado.” +</p> + +<p> +Then seeing the girl was nervous, he came and seated himself in the +chair next hers. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” he said in a soothing tone. +“The lightning goes for the high trees, and not these little huts.” +</p> + +<p> +The next few minutes there was one constant flash and roar that filled +the atmosphere with the smell of sulphur and scorched wood, and left +Leslie sitting wide-eyed and trembling, obviously gripping her courage +with both hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie has Sylvia very well under control,” he remarked presently, a +tender, caressing note in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +The comment made her smile at him in a tremulous manner. +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to remember every silly thing I say. And I have the feeling +that you’re always vastly amused at my expense.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa said nothing, but his mouth softened until all its cruel +lines vanished. He sat as if lost in his own thoughts, watching the +rain coming down with a violence that blotted out the adjacent forest +in a driving cloud of gray. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid we shall have to stay here for some hours,” he remarked +presently. “There’s no chance of this clearing up just yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hours!” Leslie echoed, and her voice was full of dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as the rain lessens, I’ll send one of the villagers down to +the river for your hammock. You can’t possibly walk back with the +ground in the state it will be in after this downpour.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m putting you to a great deal of trouble,” she said apologetically. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled, in the quiet, well-bred way Leslie liked. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re my only friend,” he replied. “The first I’ve ever had. If Fate +had been kind enough to provide me with an English mother I should +have had a circle almost bigger than I could manage. Where my one +friend is concerned, nothing is too much trouble. I’m only too pleased +to do any little thing for you.” +</p> + +<p> +For the next hour the rain poured down continuously, bringing darkness +earlier than usual and making even more gloomy the short African +twilight. +</p> + +<p> +Inside the hut the shadows quickly gathered. Leslie sat watching the +torrent and listening to Lebrassa’s cultured voice as he talked of a +hundred and one things calculated to take her mind away from the +present predicament. +</p> + +<p> +The darkness thickened until only two white blurs showed up in the +hut. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Lebrassa rose. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll get a light,” he volunteered. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till the rain stops a bit. You’ll be wet through before you’ve +gone a dozen yards,” she said quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“If I wait for the rain to stop we shall have to sit in darkness until +midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean we shall have to stay here until then?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s not much chance of getting away before,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +With that he left the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Brooding on his verdict, Leslie stayed alone in the darkness, +listening to the hiss of the rain, the moan of the wind through the +forest, the strange creaks and sighs and distant howls that came with +it, the rustle of lizards in the roof, and the scratching, tapping +sounds as the long leaves of a plantain scraped against the side of +the tiny dwelling. +</p> + +<p> +The mingled sounds made an eerie whole. There was such an unaccustomed +feeling about everything, such a creepy sensation, too, at the idea of +being in this savage village miles away from the nearest white person. +</p> + +<p> +The combination sapped Leslie’s nerve. +</p> + +<p> +A big, indistinct blot suddenly looming up in the doorway made her +heart jump in a sickly fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Mr. Lebrassa?” she asked, a touch of fear in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Now who else would it be?” +</p> + +<p> +“You… you were gone so long. I—was beginning to get quite alarmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” he said in a soothing manner. +</p> + +<p> +“But you <i>were</i> a long time. And… and all this <i>is</i> a bit new to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little Sylvia! If I’d thought of her, I’d have given you a hint +that I was seeing about dinner, and also searching round for some +‘typically African’ means of illumination.” +</p> + +<p> +Now that he was with her, Leslie’s fears subsided. +</p> + +<p> +“And I expect you got wet through in doing it.” +</p> + +<p> +The expression of her voice was essentially feminine, chiding and +concerned at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I did,” he said indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +As he leaned over the table to arrange the lighting apparatus, +Leslie’s hand touched his sleeve, with one of those little downward +strokes by which one investigates as to the dampness of a person. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’re absolutely soaked!” she cried, her voice full of +distress. +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t harm me,” he answered, in a tone that said her concern on +his account pleased him. “I’m used to it. I could be out all night in +this rain, sleeping on the ground in it, and feel no ill effects. +Another advantage attached to being ‘a nigger’.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one who really knew you would ever call you one,” she assured him. +</p> + +<p> +“So you don’t think of me as one, now you’ve got to know me?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie thought of some of the specimens she had met at Cooper’s +bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” she said emphatically. +</p> + +<p> +On the table, as lamps, Lebrassa was arranging two half-cocoanut +shells filled with palm oil with a scrap of rag floating in each as a +wick. After several attempts, he made them burn—dancing, uncertain +lights, each with a thick column of pungent smoke. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s that?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks very local.” +</p> + +<p> +Seating himself, he went on talking until the dinner arrived. A trio +of native women appeared with a variety of calabashes. There were +small ones to do duty as plates, and polished half-cocoanuts for +glasses. +</p> + +<p> +In one huge calabash a savory stew steamed. In another were pancakes +made from pounded plantains fried in palm oil which gave them a +curious red tinge. A third was piled high with nuts and fruit. And in +a bottle that had once held trade gin was native palm wine. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we gather round?” he asked as the women left. +</p> + +<p> +“How strange and nice it all looks,” Leslie remarked, as she seated +herself at the table. +</p> + +<p> +Over the flickering, smoking lamps a powerful brown face looked at a +delicate white one. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Miss Graham, what about some chicken stew? I guarantee it’s fit +for civilized consumption because I saw the ingredients put in, and +dared the cook, under pain of death, to add any trifles of her own +choice.” +</p> + +<p> +As the meal proceeded, in a veiled way Lebrassa’s negro-tainted eyes +watched the girl who chatted to him in a frank, friendly manner, often +smiling at him in the way she had done when her photograph first met +his gaze. +</p> + +<p> +By the time dessert was reached, Leslie was thoroughly enjoying her +“typically African” evening. +</p> + +<p> +“We might be miles and miles away from civilization,” she said in the +course of conversation. “Right in the heart of savage Africa. But I’m +glad we’re not.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your objection to the heart of savage Africa?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should live in constant fear of the Hyena swooping down on me, and +grilling me over a fire, or leaving me abandoned on an ant-hill.” +</p> + +<p> +Her reply was the last Lebrassa had expected. An uneasy look crossed +his face. +</p> + +<p> +“What made you think about that man just now?” he asked hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +“All these strange, barbaric surroundings, this +far-away-from-all-civilization feeling. Captain Fletcher says he +tortures people for days on end. I can’t imagine any one human being +acting in that manner toward another, can you?” +</p> + +<p> +The strained look on Lebrassa’s face deepened. +</p> + +<p> +“Everybody out here has some theory about him,” he answered. “Mine is, +that he’s some unfortunate wretch suffering from a loathsome disease +that is a constant torture to him, which he knows neither time, +patience, repentance, nor any earthly remedy can cure, and only death +relieve. In the agonies of others he may find some little relief from +his own—forgetfulness of his own spectre.” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Fletcher says he does it from sheer hatred of white people,” +Leslie put in. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps. But we’ve only to refer to history to find that some of the +greatest barbarians of the past, men whose names are bywords of +cruelty to this day, have been afflicted themselves. Any horrible +affliction, combined with inherited savage instincts and the cruelty +that lurks in all things negro, would produce something on a par with +the devil. Sympathy is always with the Hyena’s victims. Personally I +find myself extending a little to the man himself, if the cause is +what I say.” +</p> + +<p> +For some time there was silence. +</p> + +<p> +In a sympathetic manner Leslie watched Lebrassa, knowing his thoughts +were on his own affliction—the black blood in him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you smoke?” she asked presently, with the idea of getting +his mind away from himself. +</p> + +<p> +Her voice brought him out from his black study. +</p> + +<p> +“May I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. Why didn’t you light up sooner?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought tobacco, combined with the smell of these lamps, might be +rather too much for you,” he explained. +</p> + +<p> +“I like it. It keeps off the mosquitoes,” she replied, glad she had +got his thoughts away from his constant trouble. +</p> + +<p> +He drew out a wet-looking cigar-case. A search for matches followed. +But he could find none, the last having been used to get the lamps +burning. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’ll have to endure the mosquitoes,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie pointed to the soaked rag that lay, half submerged in the +oil-filled shell, flickering and smoldering under the heavy pall of +thick, greasy smoke. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s wrong with getting a light from there?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“There’d be too much palm-oil flavor attached to my cigar if I did!” +</p> + +<p> +“I never knew anything quite so helpless as a man if a thing can’t be +done in the regulation way. Why not make a paper spill?” +</p> + +<p> +As he searched round in his pockets for material for making one, +Lebrassa’s eyes, soft and smiling, rested on the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall call you ‘Little Friend of all the Universe,’ Miss Graham,” +he remarked. “You seem able to ease every one’s troubles, and find a +way out of his difficulties for him.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew out his pocket-book, and opened it carelessly to tear out a +dry leaf from the middle. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so, something fluttered to the table and lay there, face +upwards, staring at Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +In blank astonishment she stared back at it. +</p> + +<p> +Her intent gaze drew Lebrassa’s attention to the spot. +</p> + +<p> +On the table a little pictured face lay; a face he had come to know +very well since he had torn it out from the group, wondering who the +girl was and if she would smile at him in such a friendly manner if +she knew she was smiling at a “nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +Starting violently, he looked across at the original. +</p> + +<p> +The pleasure of having Leslie so entirely to himself, miles away from +all her own color, trusting him as implicitly as if he were one of her +own people, to know she was concerned about his welfare and his wants, +that she understood and sympathized with him, had made him forget what +secret lay hidden within his notebook. +</p> + +<p> +He made a movement to pick the photograph up, but her hand was there +first. +</p> + +<p> +“Why! It’s like the one I sent to Molly!” she exclaimed. “In that +letter! You know. The one that was lost.” +</p> + +<p> +As if unable to credit her eyes, she turned it over. +</p> + +<p> +On the back her own handwriting greeted her. +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>is</i> the very one!” she went on in a disbelieving gasp. +</p> + +<p> +In a dazed, puzzled manner, she looked across at him. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you get hold of it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s eyes were strained and anxious, but her blank surprise had +given him time to gather an explanation together. +</p> + +<p> +“I found it among some of Cooper’s possessions, that he asked me to +forward after he left Harrogate.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s out of the letter I sent to Molly! The one she never had. My +letter must have got there. And he… he must have taken it!” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +Intently he watched the girl, wondering if his excuse would stand, by +now sufficiently acquainted with her character to know she would not +question the negro on a matter nothing could rectify, or tell Molly +that the man who was her husband had attained the position by stealing +a letter. +</p> + +<p> +All at once Leslie looked across at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lebrassa, will you do me a favor? Don’t say anything to Mr. +Cooper about this. It’s too late to mend matters now. And I don’t want +Molly to know either. If she did, it would sweep away the shred of +tolerance that makes her life with her husband possible. Do help me to +keep this secret,” she finished earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t say a word if you don’t wish me to,” he said hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you shake hands on it?” +</p> + +<p> +Across the table a small white hand was extended. He drew back as if +stung, watching her with an expression that was tortured. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you trust me without that?” he asked roughly. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie imagined her action had been misconstrued; that he thought his +mixed blood had made her fancy he was not to be relied on. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I can,” she said, all penitence. “It’s only a silly +school-boy formula.” +</p> + +<p> +After that she sat back in her chair, brooding over the mystery that +had been solved at last. +</p> + +<p> +It was some time before it struck her to wonder why the picture should +have been in Lebrassa’s possession. The shock of coming across it so +unexpectedly had taken all but the fact of Cooper’s treachery from her +mind. +</p> + +<p> +Now other thoughts came trooping in, the principal being—why had Mr. +Lebrassa picked out and kept her photograph? +</p> + +<p> +On further inspection, the fact that he had done so left her with an +uncomfortable feeling; a desire to get back to other people, not to be +quite so alone with him. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s final lecture on the <i>Batava</i> was well to the fore in her +mind. What if Captain Fletcher were right, and she wrong? What if Mr. +Lebrassa were in love with her? +</p> + +<p> +She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that there had never +been anything lover-like in his behavior. He treated her in a +friendly, fatherly way, much as Major Harding did. +</p> + +<p> +But the fact that he carried her photograph about refused to be +ignored, and there came the perturbing thought that friendship might +not satisfy him. He might wish for something more. +</p> + +<p> +Like an appalling flood there swept through Leslie the recollection +that Lebrassa was only half English, only half civilized. And in +matters of emotion the savage might come to the top. +</p> + +<p> +Anxiously he watched her as she sat silent and thoughtful. Every +shadow and expression that crossed her face he noted, all the time +wondering if his excuse would pass muster, knowing there were +incidents in their first meeting that might go to disprove his +explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Leslie got up and went to the door. As she did so he caught +one glance—fleeting, fearsome and suspicious. +</p> + +<p> +“I—don’t think it’s raining quite so much. Hadn’t we better start +back now?” +</p> + +<p> +There was unmistakable reserve in her voice, and a break of fear that +he immediately noticed. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing the hut, he took up his stand just behind her—as he very +often did—looking over her head at the driving rain. +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t possibly start in this,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie moved to the other side of the door. With her mind full of +suspicions she did not care to have him so close to her. The action +made him glance at her in a sharp, anxious, almost hungry manner, +suspecting that some idea of his deceit had dawned on her. +</p> + +<p> +She caught his look, and it did not add to her peace of mind. +</p> + +<p> +“But I’d like to go now,” she said, trying to speak naturally. +</p> + +<p> +She did her best to hide her uneasiness. She feared that her having +seen the photograph might make him tell his reason for carrying her +picture about. Being what he was, he might not take his congé in the +manner an Englishman would. +</p> + +<p> +“Molly will be wondering what has happened to me,” she added as an +excuse. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Cooper will guess why you’re late. There’s no need for you to +distress yourself on her account.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s voice was very hoarse, as if he were laboring under great +but suppressed emotion. Leslie, with ears now quick to mark every tone +in his voice, heard it. +</p> + +<p> +She shivered, so violently that it was noticeable. His hand was on her +shoulder with quick, caressing anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not damp or cold, are you, little friend?” +</p> + +<p> +She drew away from him and went into the room, putting the length of +the table between them. There she stood watching him with frightened, +suspicious eyes. Half an hour ago she would have put his touch and +anxiety on her account down to friendship, but the finding of her +photograph in his possession now gave all his doings another meaning. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa followed her. +</p> + +<p> +Guilt made him quick to put but one construction on her actions. A +further survey of the situation had shown her flaws in his +explanation—flaws through which the truth was leaking. Her avoidance +and desire to escape from him made him think she had guessed he had +taken the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Before God, Leslie, I wouldn’t have taken that letter had I known +everything,” he said hoarsely. +</p> + +<p> +Blankly she looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you talking about?” she asked with undisguised surprise. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant Lebrassa’s mistake flashed on him. He knew now why she +shrank from him. She had guessed his reason for keeping the +photograph. Now his own confession had betrayed him, had swept away +the one thing he was working for—to possess her legally. On her +trust, sympathy and liking, there had been a chance he might build +something stronger than the friendship she had granted him. A slender +chance, that his own words had swept away. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie stood wondering what he meant. +</p> + +<p> +His hoarse, broken words were very different from the proposal she had +expected and dreaded. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I wouldn’t have taken that letter had I known everything.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Over and over again the sentence repeated itself in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean <i>you</i> took that letter?” she asked at length. +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. Something gripped Lebrassa’s throat and strangled +all utterance as her astounded eyes gazed at him with the truth +dawning in their clear depths. +</p> + +<p> +Over the flickering, curling lights he watched her in a strange, wild, +hungry way. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie noticed nothing of this. Other things were in her mind. Back to +her had flashed some of the incidents of their first meeting, all of +which went to corroborate the gradually dawning truth. +</p> + +<p> +She remembered how she had been sent to his room. His start and +surprise on hearing her name. How he had said he was expecting some +one. His knowledge that she had come from Paris. +</p> + +<p> +The full meaning of it all dawned on her at last. +</p> + +<p> +<i>He</i> was responsible for Molly’s ghastly marriage. This man she had +been sorry for, whom she had called “friend,” treated as such, and +held to, in spite of advice and warning. +</p> + +<p> +Why Lebrassa should have taken the letter had no place in her mind. +Everything was forgotten in the flood of cold, unbounded rage that +swept over her at the knowledge of his treachery and how she had been +deceived. +</p> + +<p> +With unveiled aversion, she turned from him, and picking up her hat +pulled it on her head with hands that shook with the intensity of her +anger. +</p> + +<p> +There was no mistaking her action. She had done with him entirely. +</p> + +<p> +She turned to leave the hut. Before she reached the door, Lebrassa was +there, barring the way. +</p> + +<p> +There was no need for further deception. The knowledge that he was now +despicable in her sight had cracked the veneer of civilization. The +savage, whom her trust, innocence and liking could keep in abeyance, +showed through. A flood of wild emotion had swept away almost every +English trait on his face, leaving it reckless, cruel, arrogant, full +of savage love and hungry passion. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie faced him, looking at him with contempt and loathing, too +enraged to notice the wild storm her scorn had raised. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me pass at once,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +It was a haughty command, with no hint of fear or entreaty. +</p> + +<p> +“And if I refuse, little white rose, what then?” +</p> + +<p> +Unflinchingly she scanned the big figure barring her way. +</p> + +<p> +“You will recollect what you are and obey me instantly.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed, a low, fierce laugh, with a great note of the tiger in it. +</p> + +<p> +“What am I, heart’s delight? Tell me what I am. For what if I say I +<i>am</i> the Hyena?” +</p> + +<p> +At his words all color died from Leslie’s face. +</p> + +<p> +Wide-eyed and in dread fascination, she gazed at him. +</p> + +<p> +“A savage African Sultan with a price on his head.” “The most +bloodthirsty villain in West Africa.” +</p> + +<p> +With sickening force his words came thundering back to her mind. +Contempt and anger were lost in the flood of deadly terror that swept +over her. +</p> + +<p> +She was not dealing with a civilized being, but with a savage chief, a +blood-stained monster, a creature quite beyond her comprehension. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced round wildly, seeking refuge from the tainted eyes +watching her. As if to get away from the truth confronting her, she +made a backward step. Lebrassa followed, not touching her, just +driving her backwards step by step, laughing all the time, driving her +backwards until she could get no further. There was a wall behind her, +and this great savage thing in front watching her and laughing. +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible to scream. No sound would come. +</p> + +<p> +A sound came, but from outside. From the forest not a hundred yards +away. A snarling, ravening sound, a howl of fiendish mirth, a shriek +of mad, bestial laughter. Like a pack of hell hounds on the trail, the +sound rose and fell with the swish of the rain; now, a low, +blood-curdling chuckle, now a wild, hellish yell, a horrible cry, like +a hundred hyenas howling. The wild sounds stopped as abruptly as they +had arisen. And through the heavy roar of the downpour came the echo +of running feet. +</p> + +<p> +That ghastly howling sobered Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +The wild surge of red-hot negro passion the sudden chattering of his +hopes had roused died down as quickly as it had arisen. Another flood +of emotion swayed him. How to save the girl now looking at him as if +he were earth’s greatest horror. There was the low moan of a child in +deadly fear as his arm went round her, crouched against the wall, +staring at him with eyes black with terror. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was aware he lifted her lightly, holding her in a grip that +took all her strength away. Then everything faded in total blackness +as she lay, limp, in a dead faint within his arms. +</p> + +<p> +The running feet reached the hut. Yoni loomed up and threw herself on +her knees before Lebrassa, as he stood holding Leslie close against +him in fierce protection. +</p> + +<p> +“What treachery is this, woman?” he demanded in a savage, desperate +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Nanza,” she gasped. “He did not go back to Kallu. He waited here +to spy. Then he sent a message up to the high-priest, Mhaki, who has +come down with fifty of his followers demanding blood and vengeance. +Nanza has seen you with the Star, and he knows you love her. He has +told them, and they are filled with madness. They come now for the +blood of the Star and the death of a Sultan who has betrayed them. +Essel, my cousin, give them vengeance. What does it matter if that +girl dies? But not my lord who is the Sultan and my life.” +</p> + +<p> +As the gasping, breathless voice finished, another burst of fiendish +laughter roused the echoes, the mad hyena’s cry that had preceded +Yoni’s coming. A crowd of howling black figures dashed into the hut, +wet and dripping, with the steam rising from their ebony hides; with +scarred faces and thick, livid lips that snarled and showed great +yellow fangs filed down to resemble dogs’ teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Back, dogs!” Lebrassa roared in some heathen dialect. “Since when has +it been law to enter thus the presence of your Sultan?” +</p> + +<p> +As his furious voice thundered out, to be heard above the mad babel, +the wild roar died down to an ominous growl. The half-dozen savages +already in the hut, stopped short, but they were pressed on by the +force of those behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“By all darkness! Who comes one step nearer dies,” Lebrassa thundered. +</p> + +<p> +The mob stopped. Under the mulatto’s blazing eyes there was some +inclination on the part of the most prominent of the intruders to draw +back and give precedence to their fellows. +</p> + +<p> +It was one thing to talk against the Sultan behind his back, another +to meet him face to face. There was the sullen, backward cringe of +wild beasts under the eye of their trainer, and the growl subsided +into silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t heed him,” a voice from behind cried. “He would keep blood from +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“So, Nanza, you are here,” Lebrassa answered. “Come! Your Sultan bids +you enter.” +</p> + +<p> +Nanza came through the crowd and halted, facing Lebrassa with an +arrogance equaling his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what’s all this talk about withholding blood? Since when in +Kallu has your voice issued orders except of my giving?” the mulatto +asked. “Remember, even the Sultan’s cousin, heir to all Darkness +though he be, is not exempt from death if he dare disobey me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor is the Sultan exempt from death, if he betrays the priests and +the people,” Nanza replied boldly. +</p> + +<p> +A growl of assent went up. +</p> + +<p> +“In what way have I betrayed either priests or people?” Lebrassa +demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Need you ask, with that girl in your arms?” Nanza replied, pointing a +black finger at Leslie’s unconscious form. “Have you forgotten your +oath sworn on the Altar of the Night?” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa gave a savage laugh, arrogant and contemptuous. +</p> + +<p> +“What I hold in my arms is mine. No oath broken, but what has long +been the wish of the priests and the people.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is no wish of theirs that you hold that foul murderer’s daughter +in a lover’s embrace. Give her to us. Give us blood and vengeance. +Give us the woman you hold,” his cousin cried. +</p> + +<p> +With a sullen, angry roar the horde surged up to Lebrassa as if to +tear Leslie from his protecting arms. Only one man touched her, and +the next moment he fell under a blow that would have stunned an ox. +</p> + +<p> +“That I should live to see this crew of mongrels yapping round me!” +Lebrassa roared with mad fury. “Hounded on by the lash of jealousy. By +one who desires to sit in your Sultan’s place.” +</p> + +<p> +These were words that could reach through the blood-lust that swayed +the crowd: motives they could understand. Vengeance was one, treachery +another, now a third had been presented to them. Some of their fury +died down, and left them waiting for explanations. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa was quick to seize his opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +“But do I hold the child of that murderer?” he asked. “Who has said +so? Only Nanza. And why?” +</p> + +<p> +Now the mob was all attention, hanging on to his words, awaiting his +excuses. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you listen to the voice of jealousy?” Lebrassa continued. “It +was said in Kallu, ‘The Sultan tarries. Why is he so long away from +his people?’ A message was sent up, ‘Wait’, but it did not say for +what. There is one who sits in the Sultan’s place when his dogs rest +after hunting—one who fain would sit there always. He must plot +mischief, he and a jealous woman. A message was sent up to you, ‘The +child of the murderer is found.’ Who sent it? Not I. Yet it was a true +one. And another had been found also.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa paused for a moment, and his arms took an even firmer hold of +the girl who lay limp within them. +</p> + +<p> +“Long has it been asked in Kallu, ‘Why have we no Queen?’ ‘Why does +not the Sultan give us an heir of his own breeding?’ Why? Because no +Star had risen in the Heart of Darkness. In Kallu there was no woman +as beautiful as Irena, Bride of the Night. None fit to take her place, +to be wife to her son. Your Sultan was ambitious. He would give even +greater beauty than Irena’s to shine on the Throne of Night, to be a +mother of kings. There was a hunt, a hunt of vengeance; a fresh rumor +had come as to the whereabouts of the child of Irena’s murderer. On +the trail of blood your Sultan found a love scent. A Star rose in the +Heart of Darkness. It was a dual hunt that kept your Sultan from +Kallu—love and vengeance. And in the end, both were successful.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa stopped for a moment, his gaze on the small head pillowed +against his chest. +</p> + +<p> +With staring eyes and interest on their fierce faces, the wild crowd +waited for him to continue. +</p> + +<p> +“Vengeance proved more easily wooed than love. The first was soon +completed, the other far from finished. What is the best guard for a +woman who needs safe keeping, whose life is forfeit for her father’s +sins? A husband who loves her and is jealous of her beauty. A husband +was found for the daughter of that foul murderer. At my order my +servant Cooper married her. But he does not know who she really is, +the woman who is now his wife. I had to find a keeper for her, for the +love hunt was far from finished.” +</p> + +<p> +Smiling fondly Lebrassa laid a big, brown hand on Leslie’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it the way of a Sultan to turn back from love not attained?” he +asked proudly. “It was but a small Star I sought, yet it would have +none of me. I laughed and waited. It was a sweet game over which men +love to linger, when the end is sure. A small Star against the Ruler +of the Night! I spread a net for it, into which the little feet of +innocence strayed. My Star would have fled, but too late. I had caught +it. Nanza can tell you more of my snare, but in it he would have I was +trapping vengeance, not love. Shall we say—for reasons of his own?” +</p> + +<p> +As if to let his question sink in, Lebrassa paused again. +</p> + +<p> +“For has it not been whispered that he would remain my heir now and +forever? Say, dogs, had you slain me by the words jealousy had +whispered, who would be your Sultan now? Nanza has no wish for me to +marry. For my son would be the heir, and not himself. It is well then +if I am slain. Who is to be believed? The one who desires to sit in +the Sultan’s place, or he who has led you to victory these twenty +years? He or I? Love is here in my arms. The object of our vengeance +is in charge of her guard, Cooper, whom you know better as Bhessu, my +servant.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no mistaking who had the heart of the crowd now. Lebrassa +knew his audience and played on it, swaying it with the gift of negro +eloquence, combined with English reason. +</p> + +<p> +A wild howl went up, very different from the first that had greeted +him. Half a score of hands seized Nanza as he stood trying to make +himself heard, bore him backwards and would have had his life. Over +the babel Lebrassa’s voice came thundering. +</p> + +<p> +“Back, dogs, let him have his say. Do not let my words, like his, sway +you unduly. Maybe there is something lacking in my explanation. I +would answer all the charges he has to bring against me.” +</p> + +<p> +The dusky horde surged back immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“What he has said is no proof,” Nanza yelled. “When only the Sultan +knows the truth, it is easy for him to say one woman is the other.” +</p> + +<p> +Fifty voices answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“Proof! What need have we of proof? The Sultan’s word is enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Then a man who had not yet spoken put in a word. He was a negro of +about sixty who appeared to weigh judicially all that had been said. +Lebrassa’s desire that Nanza should have his say had had a more +favorable effect on the high-priest, Mhaki, than anything that had yet +passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Nanza has spoken truly,” he said quietly. “What the Sultan has said +is no proof. It is easy to pass off one woman as the other. With love +deceit enters into the heart of man. I’m not of the rabble to be +swayed by words and references to fights that have gone before. I am a +priest of Doomana, a faithful servant of the Night-God, of the +murdered Queen Irena, of the Sultan Essel too, if he give but one +proof to his statements.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Mhaki, no one can give better proof than you. For no one here +but you saw my mother’s murderer in his prime. Now, what was he like, +that man you saw nearly twenty-three years ago?” +</p> + +<p> +As Lebrassa put the question he was busy drawing the pins from the +coils of hair about Leslie’s ears. +</p> + +<p> +“He resembled Irena’s consort,” Mhaki replied. “So much so that he +might have been his brother. He was a tall man, with hair of gold, and +eyes gray as a night cloud.” +</p> + +<p> +“He was as you say, Mhaki, a man who might have been my father’s +brother,” Lebrassa said, a bitter note in his voice. “Now, who has +seen Cooper’s wife? Come, Nanza, you’ve played the spy. Speak up, and +tell us what she is like?” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any one here who has seen her?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni rose up from Lebrassa’s feet. +</p> + +<p> +“I give testimony to my lord. I, Yoni, Keeper of the Stars, priestess +of Doomana, who caused all this, and put jealousy into my brother. I +have seen her. She has hair of gold, and eyes that are as the +twilight.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s the proof you desire, Mhaki,” Lebrassa cried. “Now, see +this!” +</p> + +<p> +With a quick movement, he tore off Leslie’s screening hat. A shake +brought her cloud of black hair sweeping over his sleeve. Then he held +the girl at arms’ length, where she lay gazing around with big, dazed, +purple-blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment of astonished silence. +</p> + +<p> +“She is, indeed, a Star,” Mhaki said in an awed voice. “Never have I +seen a girl so beautiful.” +</p> + +<p> +He made as if to finger Leslie’s silky hair, but Lebrassa drew her +quickly back to his heart, pressing her against him with fierce +tenderness and savage jealousy, away from the black paws that would +have touched her. +</p> + +<p> +“A Star for me alone, and not for you and your color to touch, Mhaki,” +he answered. “If love were not in my heart, your lives would pay for +this night’s work. Now, I will crown her, Queen of Kallu, a gift from +the Sultan to his people.” +</p> + +<p> +The project met with a roar of assent. Lebrassa stood in the midst of +a crowd that fawned round him in the manner of dogs welcoming a +long-absent master. +</p> + +<p> +The excitement of victory, coming after the tearing strain of the last +few minutes, when only he stood between Leslie and fifty fiends +thirsting for blood and vengeance, made Lebrassa, for the moment, +forgetful of everything except that she was safe. +</p> + +<p> +As he stood surrounded by the fawning crowd Nanza slipped out of the +hut. For he knew that death would be his portion once the Sultan +remembered his treachery. +</p> + +<p> +The savages were too busy to notice Nanza’s stealthy exit. All eyes +were on the two in the middle of the hut, eager to miss no detail of +the impromptu crowning of their Queen. +</p> + +<p> +One of the mulatto’s arms was bared to beyond the elbow. On his +massive brown limb was a circle of gold, embossed with stars. This +Mhaki was unclasping. When the armlet was off he gave it into +Lebrassa’s keeping. The latter took it and placed it on Leslie’s head, +drawing strands of her hair through it to keep it in position. And +there it gleamed—a band of golden stars set in a cloud of black. +</p> + +<p> +The curling, smoking lights played on the wild figures who watched him +as he stood holding a white-faced girl close against him, gazing with +savage arrogance over her star-crowned head. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no greeting for my Queen?” +</p> + +<p> +Fifty voices answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“We are star-worshipers, we spawn of the night. In Kallu there is +always welcome for such as she.” +</p> + +<p> +There followed the wild, tribal war-cry—a long-drawn howl of hyena +laughter, so weird and blood-curdling that it reached Leslie through +her stunned terror. +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily, she clutched Lebrassa’s wrist. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough, you are frightening her,” he cried. “She’s not used to the +music of my hunting dogs, this little Queen of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Then all at once, Nanza’s absence dawned on him. +</p> + +<p> +“By all darkness! That traitor has slipped away!” he thundered. +</p> + +<p> +It needed but a minute to convince everybody of the truth of this +statement, and growls of anger arose from the savages. +</p> + +<p> +“He will do no harm as yet,” Lebrassa said in a quick, compelling +voice. “Saving his own life concerns him more now than betraying us. +But we must act quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +A few sharp orders were issued. +</p> + +<p> +The hut cleared. +</p> + +<p> +Presently there remained only Yoni and the two who, not an hour +before, were seated amicably together at dinner. +</p> + +<p> +The negress was ordered out and told to wait within earshot until +called. When she left, Lebrassa drew up a chair and put Leslie into +it. For the girl drooped against him, so weak and limp that he knew +she would have fallen but for his arm. +</p> + +<p> +Once she was seated he stood watching her, as if hoping for some word. +There was a tired, strained look about him; a lot had been lost and +gained within the last hour. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, as the silence remained unbroken, he leaned over her and +took one of her cold, trembling hands into his. +</p> + +<p> +“Say something to me, little white rose?” he asked with pleading. “Say +I’ve deceived you. That you hate me. Anything. Don’t sit in silence as +if no words could express your contempt and my baseness. I deceived +you. But is it quite unforgivable? A small, white hand reached down to +me, through the blackness and the blood, to the depths of a hell I’ve +been in these last twenty years. If I try to keep it, am I wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +Watching her anxiously he paused, but if he expected an answer he was +disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m hungry after white innocence and purity, nobility and gentleness, +things that have been denied me. I would have them for my own, to hold +them close against me. You are my treasure, my precious angel, as far +above me as the stars. I would have won you honorably if I could, +Leslie, but fate was against me. You know me now for what I am—a +creature black and blood-stained, who has been the sport of the gods +since birth. A constant black horror was born with me, one that can +drag me down to the level of the beasts, with which I must move, eat +and sleep to the end—a horror that I see reflected on every white +face, that neither time, patience, money nor penitence can take from +me. That horror has risen in all its ghastly blackness between me and +every hope, ideal and ambition I may have cherished, and it has +hounded me to hell in search of oblivion. And I found oblivion—at +last. At last I found the Waters of Lethe. Where do you think, +Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he paused as if hoping for some word from her. But only +the sigh and the sob of the rain answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“I found oblivion. Not in the depths I’d groveled in so long. But high +above me, in the stars. For you, Leslie, smiled on me and were my +friend, treating me just as if I were as other men. You forgot what I +was. And I forgot also, because you did. Forgot, and when you had +gone, remembered a thousand times more. Yet I would hide the blood and +blackness from you. Would deceive you. I was thirsty for whiteness +after my life in hell.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised her cold, shaking hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is such a little hand, this of yours,” he said, holding it +carefully in his big brown one. “Yet it eased the yoke that held me. +It brought me back to what I might have been. This little hand, +trembling in my own. May I keep it, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. Only her hand trembled more than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you nothing to say to me, little friend?” he asked with abject +pleading. “Not one word. I dare not ask for love, but just a little +toleration and pity, a little of the old sweet sympathy. I could give +so much in return—love, worship and adoration. Don’t make an even +greater savage of me, Leslie. Be something more than a Sultan’s +captive bride. Be my little angel of pity.” +</p> + +<p> +For some moments he watched her hungrily. +</p> + +<p> +A white-faced girl looked back at him, speechless and in dread +fascination. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you one word for me, darling?” he begged. +</p> + +<p> +Still there was no reply. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment longer he waited. Then he went from the hut, leaving Yoni +on guard at the door. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +CHAPTER XVI +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>My soul seem’d numbed by the blow,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>A faintness followed, a sickly swoon.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> Leslie returned to consciousness she seemed to be in quite a +different world—a world of darkness, damp and chill, full of wild +howls and animal snarlings, and over it all a savage voice was +thundering. +</p> + +<p> +Fearsomely she glanced round, the terrors of a ghastly nightmare upon +her, not yet awake to the events of the evening. Above her head a +voice was speaking, full of triumph, arrogance, and barbaric pride. +</p> + +<p> +It roused her to a further review of her surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +She became aware of a big brown hand holding hers, pressed close in +fierce possession. In a dazed way, she studied it. No reassuring ring +of white flesh appeared beneath the wet, blistered cuff. This caught +her attention. Many men had brown hands, quite as dark as this one. +Captain Fletcher had, in fact. Yet on his arm the brown stopped all at +once, just beyond the cuff, and the white began. But on this arm the +brown did not stop. It went on and on, until it was lost in the depths +of the sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s eyes went to the swarthy, powerful face above her head, and +stayed there in a puzzled fashion. +</p> + +<p> +It was like a once well-known scene that had been devastated by some +wild flood, vaguely haunting in outline, yet changed almost beyond +recognition: all the old familiar landmarks had been swept away and +unknown signs had taken their places. +</p> + +<p> +A sickly shudder ran through her. Through the numbness that had +followed her brief swoon, came a sudden dawning of the terror which +had been with her before a merciful unconsciousness had seized +her—when the knowledge of who and what Lebrassa really was had +thundered down on her. +</p> + +<p> +She stayed frozen with the horror of recollection, gazing at the wild +figures around her, hoping they would not go and leave her quite alone +with him. +</p> + +<p> +Her strained eyes watched them as they slipped away one by one, to be +swallowed up in the night. +</p> + +<p> +When Lebrassa put her into the chair, Leslie was limp with terror. As +from a long way off she heard his voice talking in a manner that +filled her with even greater fear. +</p> + +<p> +Then presently, mercifully, he was gone too. +</p> + +<p> +When he left the hut she got up. With uncertain steps she crossed to +the door, looking up at Yoni in a wild way. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me pass. I want to go at once,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni looked back at her, but she made no sign of moving from the +narrow doorway. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie tried to push past her, but it was no use. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time the full sense of her captivity dawned on her, and +with it some of the cunning which is the heritage of all trapped +weakness. +</p> + +<p> +Going back to the chair, she sat there trying to think of some means +of getting her jailor away before Lebrassa returned. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she got up, and taking one of the lamps went into the inner +room. +</p> + +<p> +She returned, sponge in one hand and empty water jug in the other. By +pantomime she pointed out to her jailor that she wanted to wash but +there was no water. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni shook her head and refused to move. Leslie smiled at her—a smile +that got no further than her lips—and pointed to a stream of water +pouring off the roof not more than a couple of yards away, which Yoni +could reach by just moving from the door. +</p> + +<p> +As the negress took the jug and leaned across to hold it under the +stream, Leslie darted past her. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni dropped the jug and made a grab at her, seizing whatever she +could grasp. A brief struggle ensued. Then a wave of fear went over +the negress, for the girl suddenly collapsed in her grip. +</p> + +<p> +Lifting her charge, she carried her back into the room, and laid her +in the chair. Then she stood watching Leslie’s white, unconscious +face, chafing her cold hands, in an access of mortal fear as to what +her fate would be if the Sultan returned and found this cherished +being injured. +</p> + +<p> +The chafing had no effect. Yoni tried forcing palm wine between the +girl’s slightly parted lips. But she could bring no flicker of life +back to the heavy, black-fringed lids, no glimmer of returning +consciousness to the small white face pillowed on the cushions. +</p> + +<p> +The case was beyond her. She must send and let the Sultan know. +Perhaps his voice and arms would coax this strange Star back to life. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Yoni hesitated, then she went quickly from the hut. +</p> + +<p> +She was not gone two minutes, yet, when she returned, the hut was +empty! +</p> + +<p> +The discovery left her petrified. To her came the knowledge of what +her fate would be when the Sultan returned and found out what had +happened. The thought made her run from the hut towards the sheltering +forest. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were two women lost in the night, flying through rain and +storm, away from the fate that would be theirs if they fell again into +the hands of the Hyena. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +CHAPTER XVII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>The wide gulf that parts us may yet be no wider.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Molly</span> stood by the drawing-room door of her bungalow, gazing across +the veranda into the pitch-dark night, listening to the heavy thunder +of the rain. +</p> + +<p> +Presently her anxious eyes came back from the shrouded garden to the +man sitting by the lounge she had just vacated. +</p> + +<p> +“I do hope Leslie will be all right,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Getting up, Cooper came to her side, gazing at her with a curious +mingling of dumb pleading and conscious possession. +</p> + +<p> +“She will be all right, my dove. Lebrassa will see to that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I wish she was back. It’s after eleven.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, Molly turned away from him, and went to a table at the far +end of the room. There she stood, turning over the many magazines +listlessly. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she picked out one and went back to the lounge. As she +seated herself she tried not to see the blackness of the hands that +arranged the cushions for her with clumsy tenderness. Then she stayed, +not reading, but watching the man beside her. +</p> + +<p> +All at once there came a sound like the rush of many naked feet along +the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +As Cooper started up, a crowd of wild figures loomed in the open +doorway, wet and steaming, with the rain dripping from their wool, +their scarred, naked bodies gleaming and writhing. +</p> + +<p> +They burst into the room, trampling with great, muddy feet on the +dainty carpet, knocking over half a dozen chairs by the impetuosity of +their entrance. +</p> + +<p> +In a rush of fear, Molly clutched her husband’s arm. One of his hands +went to his hip pocket and stayed there. +</p> + +<p> +The intruders stopped short, awed, not by the negro’s action, but by +the strangeness of their surroundings. To savages, accustomed only to +the crude appointments of a mud hut, that drawing-room with its +rose-painted piano, its gilded, satin-covered furniture, soft silken +draperies, flowers and cushions, was a revelation. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they? What do they want?” Molly gasped. +</p> + +<p> +Cooper pushed her back on the lounge, standing between her and the +savages. +</p> + +<p> +From the wild rabble Mhaki came forward. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here?” Cooper demanded in anger and astonishment, +thinking the high-priest had come, as he did occasionally, but +unattended, to see Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +“What are we doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +A mocking chorus answered him in the dialect he had used. +</p> + +<p> +“We have come for the woman who is your wife,” the chanters continued. +“She is to be wedded to another whose name is Death. Full long has +Kallu called for vengeance. And we are thirsty after long years of +waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +The answer infuriated Cooper. +</p> + +<p> +“Get out of this, you mad, gin-drinking fools,” he bellowed. “It’s +just as well for you I’m here and not the Sultan, or your lives would +be the price of this piece of drunken folly.” +</p> + +<p> +A roar of brutal laughter greeted him. +</p> + +<p> +Its unbridled ferocity made Molly clutch his arm again. Her face was +pressed against his side. In fear his blackness was forgotten; she +remembered only the fact that he was her husband and her natural +protector. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Bhessu, the Sultan sent us,” came with jeering laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“The Sultan sent you!” Cooper repeated. “What madness are you +talking?” +</p> + +<p> +Over the jeers and laughter Mhaki’s voice came. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no need to mock at him. Our Sultan said he did not know. And +he has been a good keeper. Come, Bhessu, let us have that woman, your +wife, the daughter of He-who-slew-Irena. The Sultan has sent us for +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is false,” Cooper roared. “The woman you want is with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark to him! Another traitor,” the mob yelled. +</p> + +<p> +By now Cooper’s anger had died down. In its place had come a strained, +thoughtful look. +</p> + +<p> +“I am no traitor,” he said quietly, “but a faithful servant of the +Sultan. What fool’s talk is this, Mhaki, about my wife being the +daughter of He-who-slew-Irena? What did the Sultan say?” +</p> + +<p> +Very briefly the high-priest gave the gist of Lebrassa’s statements. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now,” he finished. “Let us have the woman. The Sultan desires +both of you, and there is no time to waste.” +</p> + +<p> +Calm and ominous, Cooper’s answer came. +</p> + +<p> +“There is still time to talk. It is false, all this the Sultan has +said. I swear by all Kallu holds sacred. He has lied to you through +love of the woman he held, and has put the burden of vengeance on +another. Ask Yoni, to whom in my faithfulness I would not listen. Ask +her, and she will tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“He speaks against the Sultan. His life for it,” the crowd howled. +</p> + +<p> +Cooper’s hand came from his pocket to rest on the golden head pressed +against his side. He stayed, waiting for the mob to rush. +</p> + +<p> +Over the wild yells Mhaki’s voice came, calling for silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Love has made you crazy, Bhessu,” he said. “Yoni gave evidence in +favor of all the Sultan said. And I can see for myself this woman is +the one. For she has the hair and the eyes of her accursed father.” +</p> + +<p> +In a strained, dogged voice, Cooper answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me have my say. Then if you still think this woman is the one, +you may take her. Hair and eyes, what proof are they? May not a child +favor one parent and not the other? Perhaps the mother of your +Sultan’s bride had hair like the night and eyes of the deepest blue, +and it is the mother and not the father she favors. What Nanza told +you is true. And I can prove it. How many years is it since the Queen +Irena was found murdered on the Altar of Night? Twenty-three. And it +was proved that he who did the deed was not then married. If your +Sultan speaks the truth concerning these two women, how is it that my +wife is nearly twenty-eight?” +</p> + +<p> +Scoffing laughter greeted this statement. +</p> + +<p> +At twenty-eight a negro woman is old. To Mhaki and his following the +girl Cooper was defending looked still in her teens. +</p> + +<p> +With wild mockery and jeers the crowd surged up to him, to tear +Molly’s hands from their clinging, terrified hold. +</p> + +<p> +There was a gasping scream as her face was hidden against her +husband’s coat to shut out the swarm of naked, mud-splashed, bestial +figures. +</p> + +<p> +His hand that had lain loosely closed on her soft hair, moved +slightly. A glint of steel showed pressed on to gleaming gold. And +with it came a revolver shot. +</p> + +<p> +“The Sultan lies,” Cooper bellowed. “I will not give my wife to such +as you.” +</p> + +<p> +Molly sank back on the silken cushions, an ominous little red patch +oozing through the strands of her shining hair. +</p> + +<p> +Over the baulked howls of the savages came the sound of five more +revolver shots fired in quick succession. Then all was silent except +for a horrible, soft, hacking sound. +</p> + +<p> +On the lounge Molly lay quiet and peaceful, her brocade shoes in the +blood of the mangled heap at her feet, that had once been her husband. +</p> + +<p> +He had given her the gift she most desired—death. A gift that had +cost him his life. +</p> + +<p> +The savage horde went from the room, thirsting for further slaughter, +maddened by the vengeance that had been taken from them. +</p> + +<p> +Yet in Mhaki’s mind a doubt lingered. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch18"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Ah me! we believe in evil,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Where once we believed in good.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> first puff of cool afternoon wind came sighing up from the +distant sea, stirring the creepers on Harding’s veranda. As the cool +breeze moved the heated air there was a slight stir in a hammock slung +across its shadiest corner. At the movement, a washed-out English +nurse, sitting close at hand, glanced at her patient—a girl so thin +and wasted that she appeared to leave no impression on the pillows +supporting her. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly a month had passed since Leslie had come, soaked and +blood-splashed, to Harding’s bungalow. +</p> + +<p> +The happenings of that night stood out like a ghastly nightmare—a +chaos of blackness, wild wind, driving rain, mad laughter and blood. +She had stumbled on, lost in the blinding darkness, battling against +the raging storm in a maze of trees and thorns and mud, with the +feeling of some Terror close behind her; so close that the fact froze +out all thought of the elements she was battling against with the mad +haste of a hunted thing. +</p> + +<p> +Out of the black night and driving rain a voice had called her by +name. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie, my darling, where are you? Oh God!” it had cried again and +again. +</p> + +<p> +The sound had made her rush into a deep stagnant pool, and stay there, +crouched up to the neck in foul water, heedless of the swarm of great +leeches that had fixed on her, screening her face with the blackness +of her hair, lest its whiteness should betray her: in shivering, +deadly terror lest the frantic thumping of her heart and her own +sobbing, panting breath should be heard above the howl of the storm. +</p> + +<p> +How long she crouched there listening as Lebrassa searched round she +did not know. Then he had gone, still calling frantically, until his +voice was lost in the night. +</p> + +<p> +Creeping out from her refuge, she had gone on and on and on, her only +desire to reach whiteness and light again. +</p> + +<p> +She had found Molly’s house at last. +</p> + +<p> +Light was reached. Then—! +</p> + +<p> +Something must have snapped in her head, for she woke up in a strange +bedroom with a shriveled, dried, grasshopper-looking little man +sitting beside her. +</p> + +<p> +In his patient, as well as shock and strain, Atherley had had to fight +against malaria fever. Yet, with skilful nursing and in the care of a +doctor who knew every turn of the treacherous tropical disease, Leslie +was slowly creeping back to life. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher and his brother officers had scoured the country. However, +they had found no trace of Lebrassa, and learned nothing of him except +that the morning after the massacre in Cooper’s bungalow, a couple of +Mohammedan traders had called at a medical mission about twenty-five +miles away. The younger of the two, a giant of a man, had a broken +right arm, the result, so he had said, of his companion’s revolver +going off accidentally. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond a doubt the man was the Hyena. +</p> + +<p> +When Leslie returned to reason she had told all she knew of that +night’s happenings, and there the matter ended. +</p> + +<p> +On the river bank the Lebrassa & Cooper factory lay closed and silent. +On the outskirts of the settlement the bungalow stood empty and +lifeless, overgrown and entangled, its tragedy sleeping quietly in the +embrace of black earth. And on the balcony of Harding’s house lay the +girl who had escaped from that night of rapine and slaughter. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the sound of men’s voices drifted along with the sighing +wind. A couple of soldierly figures came up the balcony steps. Harding +went on, round the corner to the shady spot where Leslie’s hammock was +slung, but his companion remained at the head of the stairs, in a +state of obvious fidgets. +</p> + +<p> +When the Major appeared round the corner, a feeble smile greeted him. +</p> + +<p> +By Leslie’s side, he came to a halt, patting her worn face tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how’s my little girl?” he asked. “Feeling equal to a visitor?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie guessed who the visitor was, and a faint tinge of color came to +her white cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“If it’s Captain Fletcher, I’d like to see him,” she said faintly. +</p> + +<p> +So far she had seen no one except the nurse, doctor, and her host. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps Fletcher had never felt so clumsy and nervous, or so +speechless, as when, a few moments later, he sat by Leslie’s hammock +bereft of the support of his friend and the nurse, who had withdrawn, +leaving him alone with the patient. +</p> + +<p> +He was not used to feminine society. Most of his adult life had been +spent on the edge of one of the wildest parts of the Empire, where +from year’s end to year’s end he never saw a white woman. Now, as he +watched the girl among the pillows, he felt keenly the loss of the +gift of free and easy conversation. +</p> + +<p> +However, Leslie broke the silence before it grew strained. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Fletcher, I can never thank you enough for all you did—that +night. I know you were wounded in saving me. I’m awfully sorry you’ve +been hurt, because it… it was all my fault.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher could answer remarks, even if he could not broach subjects of +his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Some one must have been exaggerating about my injuries,” he said. “I +was out and running about the same day. So you see I couldn’t have +been seriously damaged. And how do you make it out to be all your +fault?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I hadn’t told that—that dreadful man what I overheard you saying +that night in the Harrogate hotel, all this would never have +happened.” +</p> + +<p> +No one knew better than Fletcher what had been lost by that piece of +thoughtlessness, but he had always kept to himself the fact that +Leslie had inadvertently told Lebrassa he was under suspicion. Now, +his one idea was to soothe the girl, never to let her know the extent +of her folly. +</p> + +<p> +“You foolish child,” he said gently. “Lebrassa would have suspected +the moment he saw me. What you said made no difference at all.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie cast a quick glance at the sun-bitten face beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very kind of you to say so,” she said humbly. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean it,” he replied emphatically. “He knows I’ve been on his trail +for the last ten years. If you must know, that’s really my job. Sort +of secret police business. Sleuthhounding round for any clue that may +lead up to the catching of that villain.” +</p> + +<p> +His words comforted Leslie a little. +</p> + +<p> +“He took my letter,” she volunteered. “The one Molly never got, that +made her marry Mr. Cooper. I can’t think why he did it.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher agreed it was a mystery. +</p> + +<p> +“He told me all about the Hyena,” she went on. “I’d no idea there +really were people of that sort. So different from what they seemed… +so absolutely dreadful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lebrassa has deceived most people, many of them men twice your age +and used to dealing with all manner of villains. So it’s not very +surprising if he succeeded in your case.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were not just, not fair,” Leslie confessed, “and all +the time you were right. I shall never forgive myself for not +listening to you from the first.” +</p> + +<p> +The arrival of Atherley with “Time’s up, young man,” resulted in the +routing of Fletcher. +</p> + +<p> +However, he did not go very far away. Only round the corner to a spot +where Harding was sitting. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Atherley joined the two. Then over whiskey and soda, they +listened to Fletcher’s plan for getting Leslie out of the country in +such a way that Lebrassa would have no inkling of where she was. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor, whose leave was about due, was to take her, and Fletcher +insisted the financing of the affair was his concern alone. +</p> + +<p> +The plan of campaign was as follows. +</p> + +<p> +From Calabar River it was possible to get to another river, Rio del +Rey, about forty miles away. At the trading stations there, steamers +called at stated times. By one of these Atherley and his charge would +proceed to the island of Fernando Po. An express German steamer was +due there within the next fortnight. By it the two would proceed to +Hamburg, and on by rail to some place on the Riviera until Leslie was +fit to take up life again. +</p> + +<p> +“And then?” Harding asked, as Fletcher finished. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I expect she’ll go her own way,” the captain answered in a +gloomy manner. “Because none of us has any legal claim or hold on +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You great overgrown ass, why don’t you ask her to marry you?” +Atherley put in. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment it looked as though Fletcher would resent the question. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no reason to believe she even likes me,” he replied stiffly. “To +ask her now when she’s under an obligation to me would be taking a +mean advantage. The child is absolutely penniless. She might feel +bound to take my offer—no matter what her own feelings were—as the +only possible way of paying off her debt.” +</p> + +<p> +Harding’s voice eased the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve a brother-in-law in the Portuguese wine trade. If I wrote to my +sister and asked her to take Miss Graham as her companion, I know she +would. Then at least we should know where the child was.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, that’s awfully decent of you,” Fletcher said, relieved. +</p> + +<p> +During the next week the three men devoted a good deal of time to the +mechanism and working of the doctor’s launch. Dispensing with the +negro crew, the little craft took short runs in the cool of the +afternoon with these three budding engineers and Leslie as passenger. +</p> + +<p> +On the river bank the usual crowd of loafing negroes watched their +exit and return. +</p> + +<p> +One day the three Englishmen and their solitary passenger set off as +usual. However, they failed to return at the customary hour. This fact +appeared to interest a couple of the negroes, for they waited until +darkness came. +</p> + +<p> +Night fell, but there was no sign of the truant launch. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, out of the dark forest, came the wild roll of a native drum +with curious little intermittent taps. Another answered it. And still +another, from farther and ever farther away, repeating the rhythm +until it was lost in distance. +</p> + +<p> +However, before the news of Leslie’s departure reached Lebrassa, she +was lying under the awning of a steamer in Rio del Rey, waiting for +the evening tide to bear her down the river and away from Africa. +</p> + +<p> +By her side Fletcher was sitting. +</p> + +<p> +Now that the actual parting had come he was more tongue-tied than +ever. On Leslie, too, had fallen a cloak of silence. +</p> + +<p> +Strained and anxious, she was watching the man at her side. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Fletcher,” she said presently in a nervous voice, “I can +never thank you for all your kindness to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nothing,” he said hastily. “If you’ll drop me a line +occasionally I shall be more than repaid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I shall write to you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another pause, broken this time by the “All ashore” bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I must push off,” Fletcher said, getting to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie got up also. +</p> + +<p> +“You will keep out of the way of that dreadful Hyena, won’t you?” she +asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +He took the hand she was offering, holding it carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you worry about that,” he said cheerfully. “Lebrassa will make +it his business to avoid me. Now, good-by, and take care of yourself. +And… and may I come and see you during my next leave,” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +“If you think such a foolish person is… is worth keeping in touch +with,” she said shyly. +</p> + +<p> +“Worth keeping in touch with!” he echoed. +</p> + +<p> +Then feeling himself on the edge of a proposal, hastily he shook the +girl’s hand and turned quickly away. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he was gazing longingly after a steamer that was +disappearing round a bend of the river. +</p> + +<p> +On its deck Leslie lay, wondering drearily if her folly had quite +alienated Captain Fletcher. During the past week, although they had +been quite a lot together, he had never shown the least sign of +straying beyond the friendship stage. In her eyes, now, he was a hero, +not the interfering busybody he had once seemed. +</p> + +<p> +As she pondered on the problem she watched the sunset. +</p> + +<p> +Great, black clouds, flecked with lurid red, loomed up over the land +she was leaving, looking almost as if they were chasing her. +</p> + +<p> +As she gazed at them a violent shiver ran through her. She would much +rather have had one of the brilliant, rainbow-hued sunsets that had +fallen to her lot many times during her brief tragic stay in Africa. +Not this ominous banking of black and red. For it seemed to suggest +that the blood and blackness could not be left behind so easily. +</p> + + +<h2 id="p2"> +PART TWO +</h2> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“<span class="sc">Love</span> of my life! we had lights in season—</span><br> +<span class="i0">Hard to part from, harder to keep.</span><br> +<span class="i0">We had strength to labor and souls to reason,</span><br> +<span class="i0">And seed to scatter and fruits to reap.</span><br> +<span class="i0">Though time estranges and fate disperses,</span><br> +<span class="i0">We have <i>had</i> our loves and our loving mercies:</span><br> +<span class="i0">Though the gifts of the light in the end are curses</span><br> +<span class="i0">Yet bides the gift of the darkness—sleep!”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + + +<h3 id="ch19"> +CHAPTER XIX +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“ ‘<i>Our burdens are heavy, our natures weak,</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>Some pastime devoid of harm</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>May we look for? Puritan elder, speak!</i>’</span><br> +<span class="i1">‘<i>Yea, friend, peradventure thou mayest seek</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Recreation singing a psalm.</i>’ ”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Kubu Mission had a new convert. His industry was a marvel; his +progress a matter that afforded a never-ending topic of conversation +to the teachers of the Mission. +</p> + +<p> +He had come to them some eight months before, clad only in a +loin-cloth, speaking an uncouth African dialect, and with a habit of +squatting on his heels. Now, he was sitting out on the veranda of the +schoolhouse, in a civilized manner, on a chair, attired in a +full-blown suit of white drill, with his large feet encased in a pair +of canvas shoes. +</p> + +<p> +He was reading the “Pilgrim’s Progress” in English; and in a stiff, +stilted, negro manner, he could now speak this language very well. +</p> + +<p> +For hours this young convert would sit at the feet of his pastors +while they told him of the wonders and glories of England. And he +would listen in round-eyed astonishment, asking them endless +questions—most of them on purely secular subjects. +</p> + +<p> +When they were tired of talking he would thank them humbly and then go +and perform lowly tasks about the place. But as he worked he smiled to +himself with a depth of ferocity that would have startled the gentle +missionaries had they seen it. +</p> + +<p> +For motives known only to himself Nanza was doing what is vulgarly +called “learning the ropes.” +</p> + +<p> +This particular afternoon as he sat in the shade of the schoolhouse +reading, he put down his “Pilgrim’s Progress” and drew from his pocket +a string of nondescript objects, and stayed studying it intently. +</p> + +<p> +It looked like a kite’s tail. There were half-a-dozen cowrie shells of +varying sizes, beads of different hues, several nuts and dried +berries, punctuated with feathers and strips of rag of divers colors, +all threaded and tied together on a single piece of string. +</p> + +<p> +To Nanza it represented a letter. A letter, moreover, from the +high-priest Mhaki. +</p> + +<p> +The barbaric message worried him extremely. First by the fact that the +high-priest knew his whereabouts, secondly by its contents. +</p> + +<p> +It left him undecided whether to answer in person, or whether to fly +from this seat of learning. He knew the cunning of his cousin the +Sultan, and this might be a trap. +</p> + +<p> +When Nanza had fled from Calabar his one object had been +self-preservation. As soon as this was accomplished, his mind turned +to other subjects, chief among them being vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes he wondered whether he would reveal the whereabouts of Kallu +to the authorities. But to do this meant the downfall of the power to +which he was still direct heir, and that would sweep away all chance +of supreme sultanship even more surely than his cousin’s marriage. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time he sat on the veranda considering whether or not he +would respond to Mhaki’s overtures. Finally he decided it was worth +risking. He knew his ground and could back out at the first sign of a +trap. +</p> + +<p> +About a fortnight later Nanza was approaching an up-country village +some two hundred miles removed from the Kubu Mission. However, he +showed no immediate desire to enter. Instead, he hid himself away in +the undergrowth and awaited nightfall. When darkness gathered he +entered the little town. +</p> + +<p> +There was an air of stealth about him as he crept through the muddle +of mud huts, palm trees, drinking pools and heaps of débris; an +obvious desire to avoid meeting any of the inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +The place lay in darkness, the silence broken only by the snores that +issued from some of the huts and the squeaks and rustles of uneasy +domestic animals. +</p> + +<p> +Nanza went along in a manner that suggested his surroundings were not +entirely new, his objective the guest-house in the middle of the +village. Out of the purple darkness, lying like a pall over the +market-square, a light flickered and disappeared and flickered again +at regular intervals in the open door of the little hut in the center. +</p> + +<p> +For some time Nanza watched the light. So far as he could see the hut +was empty save for one old figure, nor did there appear to be any one +lurking in the vicinity. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, with the stealthy tread of a leopard, he went forward. +</p> + +<p> +Just inside the door of the guest hut was a negro of about sixty, who, +squatting on his heels on the mud floor, was busy pulling to and fro +the shutter of a battered dark lantern. +</p> + +<p> +Nanza’s approach made him look up. On seeing his visitor, he gave a +grunt of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“So you recognized my signal?” he said by way of greeting. +</p> + +<p> +Nanza nodded. He entered the hut, and, drawing the palm-leaf shutter +screening the doorway into position, seated himself opposite the +high-priest. +</p> + +<p> +“How are things in Kallu, Mhaki?” he asked. “Is there any sign as yet +of a new heir? And how is it that <i>you</i> are plotting against the +Sultan? Have my words proved true? Or is the Sultan so enamored with +the Star he has caught that he forgets the rites of the temple?” +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki cast a glance at his blustering visitor. Then he rolled a +portion of tobacco he was chewing across his tongue, and expectorated +with great deliberation before replying. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no bride in Kallu,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The remark left Nanza amazed. He knew nothing of the final happenings +of that tragic night, nothing of Leslie’s escape or Molly’s death. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” he asked excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki told how the Star had fled back to the night and had not +returned. +</p> + +<p> +Nanza laughed, a great roar of savage mirth. +</p> + +<p> +“So my cousin is not so successful in love as in war. And what did the +Ruler of the Night do when the Star he loved fooled him?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s because of what he did and what he did not do that I searched +for you,” Mhaki answered. “I am his servant, but, before him, I have +sworn to serve the gods. It may be the Sultan spoke falsely, for the +girl he held was fair enough to melt even the heart of hatred.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man paused. +</p> + +<p> +“We of Kallu have almost forgotten that the Sultan’s father was <i>not</i> +one of us, but of a race who make no war on women,” he continued a +moment later. “In past days I learnt much of the ways of white men +from Irena’s consort. Who knows what goes on in the heart of man when +eyes such as the Star’s have looked into it? Now, hearken, Nanza, Heir +of all Darkness. I will tell you my story, and when suspicion first +entered my heart, and all that has happened since.” +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki moved a little closer to his companion. The feeble light of the +lantern played on him fitfully, making him look like a gigantic black +toad shuffling along in the semi-darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Into Nanza’s ears was poured an account of what had taken place in +Cooper’s bungalow, when the first seed of doubt concerning Lebrassa’s +statements had been sown in Mhaki’s mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” he finished, “when I told the Sultan how Bhessu had killed the +woman who was his wife rather than give her to us, it was as nothing. +There was nothing in the Sultan’s mind but the lost Star; no thought +or regret for the vengeance that had been swept from him. Now, what do +<i>you</i> think of that?” Mhaki asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A Sultan of Kallu does not take so lightly the passing of vengeance, +unless all thought of vengeance has long since passed from his mind,” +Nanza answered. +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki nodded to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“That was exactly what I thought,” he said. “And another thing. Had +not the love of Bhessu for the Sultan always been a byword in Kallu, +even where all worship him? Had not Bhessu as great a hatred for the +Queen Irena’s murderer as had the Sultan? Yet this faithful servant of +the Royal House did not turn from his wife when the truth was told +him. He swore the Sultan had lied! He, Bhessu, to whom the Sultan was +a god! He tried to save his wife, swearing she was not the daughter of +Irena’s murderer. Yet I saw the woman had the eyes and hair of that +foul traitor. Bhessu tried to prove to us by her age that she could +not have been a child of that thief. And I did not believe him, for in +my ears the Sultan’s words were still ringing.” +</p> + +<p> +Pausing, Mhaki laid a black, wrinkled hand on Nanza’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet there was a flaw somewhere,” he continued. “With the next sunrise +I went with the Sultan, who had been injured in his efforts to get the +Star from the white men, to a Mission where his wound was dressed. I +saw a white woman there, a teacher. Of a servant I inquired her age. +To me she looked a girl. And I was told she was over thirty! Three +years older than the woman who was Bhessu’s wife. There is no reason +why that servant at the Mission should have lied to me. And then I +began to wonder who had lied, Bhessu or the Sultan?” +</p> + +<p> +Silence reigned in the hut as Mhaki finished speaking. The wind moaned +around the deserted market square, bringing with it distant forest +howls and the gentle sigh of the palms. +</p> + +<p> +Nanza heard nothing of these noises. He was thinking over all the +high-priest had told him, glowing with inward satisfaction at the +thought of the white man’s learning which was now his, and which would +help him to prove the suspicions lingering in his companion’s mind. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want of me?” he asked, finally. +</p> + +<p> +“I am an old man,” Mhaki answered. “A faithful servant of Doomana. And +I would know the truth, yea, even if it means my death. For in Kallu +we have no use for traitors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so,” Nanza agreed. “Tell me what I can do, and I will do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you knew the ways and speech of the English, the plan I have +thought of would be robbed of half its difficulties. There is always +gold and to spare at Kallu. For that white men will tell you all you +care to ask.” +</p> + +<p> +Evilly Nanza smiled. +</p> + +<p> +Then he told Mhaki how he had been occupied since his hurried flight +from Calabar. +</p> + +<p> +In a calculating manner the high-priest looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no child’s game we’re playing. And I am still the servant of the +reigning Sultan. It is the truth alone I seek. If it be proved the +Sultan Essel has spoken truly then it will be well for you, O Nanza, +to keep from this country. There will be ten thousand watching lest +you betray Kallu. Yet, if it be proved that the Sultan Essel loves +where he should hate, then he dies, and I am the faithful servant of +the Sultan Nanza.” +</p> + +<p> +“The stakes are high, but I am willing to venture all,” the younger +man answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Think well. I am setting you no light task. Nor am <i>I</i> easily +deceived,” Mhaki said pointedly. “I, too, can read and write after the +manner of the white men. In the dead days Irena’s consort taught me +these things. All knowledge is good, and I have not forgotten my white +lore. The proof you bring must be no proof of mouth alone, but white +man’s proof with seals and documents and signatures. And I must have +time to ponder, to write and ask for myself the truth of what you may +bring.” +</p> + +<p> +With some eagerness Mhaki awaited Nanza’s reply, sufficiently +acquainted with his man to know that the fact of his return would +prove the truth of the papers he brought with him. +</p> + +<p> +“I am no child now, but Heir of Doomana,” Nanza answered proudly. +“That night when I accused my cousin, Essel, of treachery, I was +saying what Bhessu had told me more than a month before, when I +arrived in Calabar, sent by <i>you</i> to inquire into the reason of the +Sultan’s long absence. What my sister said made me stay. When she +first spoke, I considered her words only a jealous woman’s madness. +Then I saw for myself that the Sultan was infatuated with the girl he +had brought with him. And I pondered on the matter, wondering if what +Yoni said were true. For it struck me that a woman sees deeper into +the heart of a man than does a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so,” Mhaki agreed. +</p> + +<p> +“I watched the Sultan with the maid he had sworn to kill. Love made +him deaf, for often I stood close by, spying. And there is a saying in +Kallu, did a fly but crawl the Sultan heard it! Yet none would believe +what I said. And now you, Mhaki, have doubts, even as I had.” +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Nanza, listen,” he said, “and I’ll put my plan before you.” +</p> + +<p> +In the dim light the two drew closer together. +</p> + +<p> +“If the Sultan has lied, it would be vain for us to trace the lost +Star. He will have destroyed all evidence against her. If he is a +traitor, we have need of her, so that he may see her die first. The +Ruler of the Night has searched for her in vain these nine months. We +will let him search. If he can’t find her, the task is beyond us. But +we will go to work in another manner. We will find out more about the +other woman, the one Bhessu held as wife. Go first to Calabar. Learn +all you can about her from his friends there. Afterwards proceed to +England and probe further. If you can prove she was <i>not</i> the daughter +of that foul murderer, then ten thousand will call you Sultan of +Kallu.” +</p> + +<p> +Pausing, the high-priest drew a small leather bag from his loin-cloth +and dropped it in front of his visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“This bag of pebbles means great wealth in England. Take it, and +remember there is short shrift for traitors, you or the Sultan Essel.” +</p> + +<p> +With that Nanza rose and passed out into the night. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch20"> +CHAPTER XX +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>As we’ve sown so we must reap.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mail</span> day was the great event of the month at Tuata, Northern +Nigeria, one of the most isolated of British outposts. The district +was a vast tract of dense forest with no means of communication beyond +the trails leading from one village to another. +</p> + +<p> +It was so peaceable that Mellors, the commissioner, occasionally found +it in his heart to wish for a little more excitement. In fact, it was +so law-abiding, in a part where uprisings were frequent, that Captain +Lindsay Fletcher had come to Tuata to pursue his investigations in the +tangled, almost unexplored forest that comprised most of the district; +to find out if those hundreds of miles of dense wilderness held any +clue to the Hyena’s headquarters. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment under consideration the Government representatives were +stretched out on cane lounges on the veranda of Mellors’ bungalow, +deep in the contents of the newly arrived mail. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Fletcher was lost in an epistle signed “Leslie Graham.” +</p> + +<p> +Nearly a year had passed since he had last seen the writer, and during +the period letters from that source had come to him regularly at the +rate of about one a month, all of which he had kept and treasured. +</p> + +<p> +The broiling midday sun poured down on the cleared hill where the tiny +town was situated. No sound broke the hot silence except the sleepy +drone of insects and the rustle of paper, as Fletcher, Mellors, and a +young subaltern went through the monthly mail. +</p> + +<p> +All at once, a sudden order to halt, issued by the <i>Hausa</i> sentry on +duty at the top of the balcony steps, made the three Englishmen look +up. +</p> + +<p> +A tattered, blood-stained figure was ascending the stairs—a negro +assistant at a trading factory, to judge from his garments. His left +arm was tied up in an unskilful manner in a caked and gory cloth, and +there was a wild, hunted look in his eyes as he stood, swaying with +fatigue, at the top of the steps. +</p> + +<p> +This apparition brought the Englishmen to their feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, my friend, what has happened?” Mellors asked, going quickly +towards the wounded negro. +</p> + +<p> +“They all dead, all dead,” the man gasped. “Massa Barton, Massa Joe, +Congo Sam, Brass Boys. All dead. All but me. I see um die. Killed all +dead. And dem wild mans laugh! Laugh, all time. Laugh like de debil.” +</p> + +<p> +Barton’s was one of the few trading stations scattered throughout the +district; it was a store situated near a big village about twenty +miles away, and run by two brothers of that name. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” Mellors ejaculated. “It means the whole factory has been +wiped out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect it has,” Fletcher replied. “From what this fellow says it +sounds like some of the Hyena’s work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’re in for a lively time if he’s taken it into his head to +prowl round my district,” Mellors said. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher turned to the negro. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me all you know,” he said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Between breathless gasps the story came out—a short one—and the +tactics Fletcher knew very well. +</p> + +<p> +Just before midnight of the preceding day the store had been set on +suddenly by a score of fiends who had risen, so it seemed, from the +earth with howls of mad laughter. He, the speaker, had been cut down +as he fired the alarm, trampled on, and left for dead as the marauders +swept on towards his masters’ sleeping quarters. +</p> + +<p> +Before they returned he had managed to crawl away and hide himself in +the forest. The two Englishmen and their assistants had fought till +the greater force had overpowered them. Then the raiders had set fire +to the factory. +</p> + +<p> +“My aunt! To think that was all going on within twenty miles of us. +And I was playing patience last night because I’d nothing better to +do,” the subaltern said, sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my son, you’ll have something else to do this evening,” Mellors +rejoined grimly. “You can go along with Fletcher and help him to clean +up the mess at Barton’s place.” +</p> + +<p> +In less than an hour Fletcher and the youngster, with a detachment of +<i>Hausas</i>, were en route for Barton’s factory. +</p> + +<p> +It was early afternoon when the expedition left Tuata. For the first +twelve miles they went along a narrow path in the silent forest, which +twisted, like an endless snake, between immense towering trees all +festooned and matted together by a mass of parasitic growths. There +were patches of swamp on the route, rudely bridged by half-submerged +trunks of trees, covered again with small boughs and rushes to make a +safe passage across the quaking bog that lay, black and green-patched, +stretching away beneath a low arch of twining vegetation. +</p> + +<p> +Twilight gathered early in the green shade of this dense forest, +bringing with it the usual thick miasma. The last glimmer of daylight +vanished by the time the journey was rather more than half completed. +Fletcher called a halt for rest and refreshments, before pushing on +into the thick blackness. +</p> + +<p> +The journey was started again, the party proceeding in single file, +the captain leading. It was a dark night, with a saturating mist; no +glimmer of starlight could penetrate the matted growth; and there +would be no moon before the small hours of the morning; even then, no +matter how brilliant the flood of light, only the merest ray would +pierce through into the tangled depths. All around lay the sleeping +forest, its silence broken by the rustle of their movements, the +distant howls of a prowling leopard or the booming of some night-bird. +</p> + +<p> +For nearly half-an-hour they went along, until the most intricate part +of the trail was reached; a tangle so thick and overgrown that even in +single file they had great difficulty in pushing through. +</p> + +<p> +Then, suddenly, without the least warning, a blaze of fire was opened +on them, lighting up the mist and night with its flare. It was +followed by a screech of hideous mirth, a roar of devil’s laughter, +the snarl of a hundred maddened beasts. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher knew that sound only too well. +</p> + +<p> +A brief, grim, death-struggle began. Shadows fought with shadows in a +shadowy mist. Shrieks and yells, groans and hoarse commands, dull +yellow flashes and the clang of steel, came from every side. It was a +nightmare of blackness and blood, fog, fire and ghastly yells. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s little force fought with the madness of cornered creatures; +but they were surrounded, split up, outnumbered easily three to one. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a red-hot something seemed to sear Fletcher’s brain, and +in its train came an all-prevailing silence. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a vista of pain and heat and thirst. When consciousness +returned he was being jogged along in a litter; all was darkness, yet +the twitter of birds and other daylight sounds reached him. He tried +to move his right arm, but it appeared to be fixed to his side. Any +attempt to raise the left resulted in excruciating agony. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly events came back to him, bringing in their wake a suppressed +shudder; for he realized he had fallen into the hands of the Hyena! +</p> + +<p> +He lay wondering how long it was since the ambush, and why, instead of +killing him, his captor had nursed him back to life. A sudden chill +swept away the feverish heat enveloping him as the fate of other white +officers who had fallen alive into the hands of the Hyena rushed back +to his mind. +</p> + +<p> +A halt roused him. The cloth screening his eyes was removed, his +uninjured arm loosened. Weakly he raised himself and inspected his +surroundings. The interior of a native hut met his gaze, the door +guarded by a trio of savages. By his side lay the subaltern, moaning +and gazing round with fevered blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +A glance told Fletcher the boy was past saying anything. Swaying with +weakness, he struggled to his feet and, aided by the walls, tottered +to the door, his first instinct to get an idea of his surroundings. +The three on guard there quickly gave him to understand he was not to +go outside. He sat down again, too weak and dazed to argue the matter. +</p> + +<p> +As he sat, limp and sagging on a packing case, brooding on the +situation, a movement of the guard roused him. His gaze went to a +figure just entering. And remained there. +</p> + +<p> +The man was one he had grown to know very well during the voyage out +on the <i>Batava</i>, as spotless and immaculate now, in well-cut white +drill and broad, sombrero hat, as he had been when he strolled up and +down the deck, alone and aloof; or stood talking in a half-bored, +half-amused manner, to the girl whose voice could stop his stealthy, +caged-lion march, whose presence banished the habitual expression of +contempt his face wore when she was not about. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa crossed the hut, and, ignoring Fletcher completely, knelt by +the side of the moaning boy. He dressed the lad’s wounds and +readjusted the bandages with a care and gentleness that left Fletcher +marveling. +</p> + +<p> +The mulatto seemed to feel his prisoner’s fixed gaze. Presently he +looked round, the cruel lines about his mouth deepening. +</p> + +<p> +“You notice I’ve a liking for blue eyes, Captain Fletcher,” he said. +“If your ravings are to be believed, it’s a weakness we share in +common.” +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman knew quite well what Lebrassa was hinting at, and he +ignored the remarks. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Lebrassa got up and came to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“With your permission I’ll dress your shoulder too,” he said suavely. +“Dr. Hillman, my surgeon, has just started for Europe on a very +important mission, so his duties fall to my lot. I’m afraid my men +mauled you about pretty severely and I’ve a reason for wanting you +whole. However, as it happened, it made no difference, except that +you’ve missed three days’ appreciation of my scheme of exchange and +barter.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher still ignored his captor. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been impatiently awaiting your return to reason,” Lebrassa +continued, “so that I can tell you, among other things, that Barton’s +factory was <i>not</i> raided by me. I merely wanted you to go that way +because the path offered the best ambush in the district of Tuata. My +messenger played his part well, and you very kindly walked into my +trap. I’ve been most anxious to meet you. I thought you might be able +to give me Miss Graham’s address. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me +freely. But you’re sufficiently versed in my methods to know I can use +ways of extracting information perhaps not recognized by the British +Army.” +</p> + +<p> +Much as Lebrassa tried, he could not keep a note of savage hate from +leaking into the suave, friendly tone he had adopted. +</p> + +<p> +“You black devil!” Fletcher cried. “You may torture me till Doomsday, +but I won’t tell you where she is.” +</p> + +<p> +The mulatto laughed, low and fierce, and with intense satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“I admire your sentiments,” he said. “However, the circumstances are +now beyond you. Mental tortures, I know from personal experience, +exceed any amount of physical pain. This, I think, will explain what I +mean.” +</p> + +<p> +From his pocket Lebrassa drew a packet of bloodstained letters and +dropped them on Fletcher’s knee. They had on them Portuguese stamps, +and the writing was Leslie’s. +</p> + +<p> +Blankly Fletcher stared at the package. +</p> + +<p> +“I came across these when I searched your unconscious body,” Lebrassa +continued. “They told me all I wanted to know. I may add that as soon +as I learnt Miss Graham’s address I sent Dr. Hillman as special envoy +to her, offering your life in exchange for herself.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher was beyond speech. One hand went across his brow as he gazed +at the letters on his knee. Letters he had treasured and always +carried about with him. Letters that would put Leslie again into the +Hyena’s hands! +</p> + +<p> +As the meaning of it all penetrated his dazed brain, a sudden desire +to do murder seized him. Everything passed from him—the knowledge of +his own wounds and weakness, the giant strength of his captor. A red +cloud surrounded him, and out of it a dark face looked with savage +hatred and mocking triumph. +</p> + +<p> +He staggered to his feet and made a dash at the other’s brown, +muscular throat, heedless of the excruciating agony of his shoulder. +For his effort tore the wound open and brought the blood pouring down +his arm. +</p> + +<p> +A push from Lebrassa sent him reeling backwards. Sick with pain and +the sense of his own helplessness, he sank back weakly onto the +packing case, and with a stifled groan buried his face in his hands. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch21"> +CHAPTER XXI +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Let me gather a little strength to think,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>As one who reels on the outermost brink,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>To the innermost gulf descending.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In</span> a summer-house of one of the several châlets perched up among +the Cintra mountains sat Leslie. Far below was a vista of hill and +dale, forests of cork and chestnut, groves of orange, lemon and olive +trees, white villages and red, ploughed fields and, in the distance, +the silver sea and Lisbon. +</p> + +<p> +Behind towered rock-strewn heights, standing black and sinister +against the sunlit sky, their craggy sides patched with somber pines +and firs. Suspended like a jewel in the heavens, was the Palacio da +Pena (the Palace of Sorrow), with its three golden domes flashing in +the clear blue sky. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly a fortnight ago Leslie’s employers had sent her up to their +mountain resort. For suddenly she had become pale and thin, had lost +interest in her duties and in the round of gaieties which fell to her +lot as companion to one of the most popular women in Lisbon. In fact, +she was again the sad-eyed, listless girl who had come to Lisbon +nearly a year before on Major Harding’s recommendation. +</p> + +<p> +Yet this sudden lack of energy was not due to overmuch dancing in the +Portuguese capital as her employers suspected. It resulted from an +item seen in the month-old paper now lying on her knee—a curt notice +of an occurrence that frequently happens in the running of an Empire. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“News comes from Tuata, Northern Nigeria, of the death of two British +officers, Captain Lindsay Fletcher and Lieutenant Paul Vincent. They, +and a small company of <i>Hausas</i>, were ambushed and massacred by a +party of natives. The whole of the British force was annihilated. The +bodies of the <i>Hausas</i> were recovered, but no trace of the murdered +officers’ bodies has been found.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Inside the folded newspaper were ten letters from West Africa, all +written by Fletcher—letters with a curious air of restraint about +them. +</p> + +<p> +Over a year had passed since Leslie had said good-by to Dr. Atherley. +Her new life in a strange land, with its round of pleasures and slight +duties, together with the kindness and consideration of her new +friends, had eased the blow of Molly’s tragic end. Lebrassa she still +thought of with a shudder. But as time passed he faded somewhat from +her mind and was no longer the constant, haunting specter he had been +during the early months following her departure from West Africa. +</p> + +<p> +She sat, white and tearless, thinking of the man she loved, murdered +out in darkest Africa, wondering, in a numb, heartbroken way, why the +world went on just as usual. +</p> + +<p> +As she sat there brooding, the approach of a servant, with a letter on +a salver, roused her. +</p> + +<p> +Picking it up, she glanced at the envelope. The postmark was Lisbon, +re-addressed to her from her employers’ house there. The writing was +vaguely familiar, yet she could not put it down to any one of her +acquaintances in that city. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking it must be some invitation she opened it. She drew out no +card, but thin sheets of foreign correspondence paper. The opening +phrase brought a gasp of alarm to her lips. Quickly she turned it over +and looked at the signature. +</p> + +<p> +It was one she had seen before, on a letter that had come to her +eighteen months ago in London—a brief note telling her the name of +the boat that was to take her to West Africa, the time of sailing and +the best train to Liverpool. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>Essel Lebrassa.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Big and all-powerful the name looked back at her, blinding her to +everything but the fact of its presence. +</p> + +<p> +With wide, dilated eyes she scanned the letter her shaking hands held. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Little White Rose</i>, +</p> + +<p> +There is so much I want to tell you, that I want you to believe, that +I would have told you, but you fled away from me. Why did you, Leslie? +I thought I had been through most of the phases of mental agony this +existence can offer, but the knowledge that you were out in that +driving gale, battling with wind and rain through miles of forest, and +that fear of me had sent you there, caused me the deepest suffering I +have yet known. You will not believe me when I say that the greatest +joy of my life was when I heard you had recovered from the effects of +that night. Yet I am such a savage. I am writing to you now to make +you come back to me. +</p> + +<p> +Little friend, you once had so much sympathy. Why did you take it from +me? Just when I needed it most. When you knew me for who I was, the +depths of vile blackness in me, the red flood wherein I had sought +oblivion. And some of the white, too, that <i>you</i> could always bring to +the top. +</p> + +<p> +I was a brute that night. I think I touched the bottom of a seemingly +bottomless hell. I would have injured the little girl who trusted me. +But your scorn and contempt maddened me, roused every atom of the vile +black blood in me. +</p> + +<p> +There was a time—so long ago that I had almost forgotten it until I +met you—when I tried to conquer every evil passion the negro blood +brought with it. And I succeeded. Yet it proved no use. All I had been +working for was swept from me by an act of treachery, by a man who +should have been my best friend. I left England for Africa, went back +to a heritage I knew was mine, where I was welcomed and worshipped as +a god and Sultan, not an object of contempt, as I was in your country, +to be sneered at and called a “nigger,” and treated as though I were +immeasurably beneath the poorest white trash civilization produces. +</p> + +<p> +I was not twenty when I left the white world, to take up every rite +and custom of my mother’s people, and very bitter against my father’s +race because they had dealt out to me nothing but sneers and insults +and injustice. +</p> + +<p> +I had once hoped to make a name for myself, not in the way I have +since done, but honorably. My birth and one man’s crime barred me out +from that, so I tried another way, and succeeded. I think I am born +for success, provided there is no honor attached to it. I tried to win +you honorably, Leslie, though you will not believe me. And all the +time I knew how poor my chance was. You were mine, more mine even than +you know, the white side of me that had come back embodied in an angel +who had deigned to be my friend. +</p> + +<p> +I want to tell you, little rose, of the worship and adoration in my +heart. Yet I know you have no wish to hear it. No pleading or love I +could offer would bring you to me willingly, as I had once hoped, +foolishly, wildly. Your white hands had touched me gently once or +twice with such sympathy and understanding, that I dared to think you +might give yourself into my keeping. +</p> + +<p> +I was always a dreamer, Leslie, and always rudely awakened. I had +forgotten what I was—a creature black and bloodstained. Such a flood +of blood and blackness that it swept away the one friend life had +given me; one I would have chosen had fate made me as other men. +</p> + +<p> +I must have the one pure thing that has come into this nightmare life +of mine. I am so thirsty down here at the bottom of my black hell, +thirstier than ever before for goodness and purity. My little angel +knows the truth about me; no small white hands will touch me willingly +again; no rose will flood me with its sweetness. +</p> + +<p> +Because of the vile depths of blackness in me, I must make a bargain +with the whiteness that has spurned me. +</p> + +<p> +Little Rose, I hold a life in my hand. I will give it to you in +exchange for yourself. A man’s life for one sweet white flower from an +English garden. One whom you now call “friend,” as you once called me. +It is Captain Fletcher. +</p> + +<p> +What a threat to use! One that will make you loathe and despise me +more utterly than ever. I am a brute even to my most cherished +treasure, whom I would have know only the best in me, but to whom Fate +has determined to show the worst. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Fletcher is my prisoner, not dead, as will be reported, but +captured by me with but one motive—to learn your whereabouts. If you +will come to me his life is yours—his and that of his brother officer +whom I took at the same time. The day you arrive at Kallu they will be +sent back to the nearest British station. If you refuse to come they +both die. It is for you to choose. Even if you refuse to come, you +cannot escape me. I know where you are now. My servants will be +watching your every movement, awaiting an opportunity to trap you and +bring you out here. The first is the quicker method, that is why I +have adopted it. I am so hungry for you; so hungry to have my little +English rose set in the sweetest garden earth holds. And I must make a +further compact with my rose, lest she betray me. +</p> + +<p> +I have sent a guardian to Lisbon for you, Dr. Hillman, who, for the +next week will wait all day in the Rocio. If you are willing to give +yourself in exchange for Captain Fletcher, you have only to stand by +the statue in the middle, with a white rosebud in your hand. He will +give you another letter. You must do what it says, and say nothing to +any one of where you are going. You will come out to Africa as his +daughter. There will be eyes watching you always. Any attempt on your +part to betray either me or my servant will result in Captain +Fletcher’s death. +</p> + +<p> +How can I expect you to do anything but hate and loathe me? I am the +Sultan of Kallu, with ten thousand souls to treat as I please, yet I +am the son of an English nobleman, an upright and honorable man who +would have had me the same, but he reckoned without my mother and the +race of savage rulers she sprang from. <i>You</i> can keep me the son of my +father, even after twenty years of savagery, if you will. Be my sweet +angel of pity, as you once were. Don’t drive me quite back to +barbarism, Leslie. Try to have toleration and pity on your side. Love +I could not hope for, but just a little something, dearest, that would +hold us together outside the power of my arms. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Essel Lebrassa.</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +With trembling hands Leslie put the letter down. The first feeling +that came out of the chill, sick daze enveloping her was one of relief +to know Fletcher was alive. The full meaning of what the price of his +life meant she was too stunned to realize. She only knew he was not +dead and that she could save him. +</p> + +<p> +None of the pathos and the pleading in the letter came to her. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch22"> +CHAPTER XXII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Mask more subtle, and disguise</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Far less shallow, thou dost need, O</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Traitor, to deceive my eyes.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mammy Illa</span> and her little brown piccaninny were well known on the +steamers that plied up and down the West Coast of Africa. It was +nearly eighteen months since she had first appeared among the batch of +native women who boarded the vessels at Sierra Leone for the purpose +of disposing of various articles of local manufacture to the European +passengers. +</p> + +<p> +She stood now in a corner by the gangway of an outward-bound British +steamer, picturesquely clad in a full, short-sleeved bodice and skirt +of gaily printed blue and yellow cotton cloth. Around her were +arranged carved calabashes, baskets and mats of all shapes made from +crudely dyed rushes, plaited and twisted leather-work, a few pieces of +carved ivory, and roughly made trinkets of gold. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of all these wares sat a solemn-eyed mite of a girl. +</p> + +<p> +All the world, black and white, who passed up and down to West Africa +could be seen in that first port of call on the coast. And this Yoni +knew when, under an alias, she made her way there. +</p> + +<p> +The town lay behind her now, a delightful little place situated at the +foot, and half-way up, a mountain. It was criss-crossed with red +streets where grew brightly flowering shrubs, tall grass and cocoanut +palms. On the hill at the back, airy bungalows nestled among lime, +lemon and orange trees, with now and again a cluster of fluttering +bananas, a vivid red acacia looking like a splash of fire, or an odd +patch of quaint, stiff cacti with brilliant scarlet and yellow +flowers, all backed by the eternal, glowing green of West Africa, and +set under a sky of blazing blue. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni had no eyes for the treacherous beauty of her native land. Her +gaze was on the passengers. One especially—an overdressed negro in +gray flannels, scarlet tie, and panama hat with a ribbon to match, who +had just emerged from the saloon. +</p> + +<p> +Five months before she had seen him pass out from Africa. On that +occasion she had claimed no acquaintance, knowing there were reasons +that would account for his departure from his native land. But she +could not reconcile herself to his return. Moreover, there was an air +of triumph about him that gave her a feeling of uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +As Nanza stood by the saloon doorway, a voice speaking in a dialect +probably no other person on board understood, made him turn sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here, my brother?” it was asking. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he stared at his sister in speechless astonishment. Then +a cunning look crossed his face. +</p> + +<p> +“And you, Yoni?” he asked. “Why do you stand at the gate of Africa, +watching?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have watched these eighteen months,” she replied. “I saw you pass +out, but I did not speak, knowing there would be bitterness in your +heart against me, for my jealousy nearly caused your death. Now I see +you return. Is it safe for you to do so?” +</p> + +<p> +Nanza smiled tigerishly. +</p> + +<p> +“I would stand well in the sight of our cousin, the Lord of Doomana,” +he replied. “So I made a journey to England searching for the lost +Star, by her recovery hoping to attain again his favor. It is not well +to have a Sultan of Kallu as an enemy, and I am hungry for my own +land.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was you then, who found her,” Yoni said with well-feigned +surprise. “She was here but a week ago, and with her was the white +doctor. It was a small Star, white and frozen, who has no love for the +Ruler of the Night. Nor have you, or I, Nanza. I want revenge on the +Sultan, yea, and on the Star too, who stole his heart from me.” +</p> + +<p> +Yoni had spoken to one of Leslie’s unofficial bodyguards. She knew +Nana was in no way responsible for the girl’s return. Now she wanted +to find out why her brother had returned to Africa, and what he was +doing. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni’s act of many months before, which had resulted in Nanza’s first +appearance in any spot approaching civilization, was the proceeding of +a woman scorned. Nanza’s counter-action of staying in Calabar and +playing the spy had made her realize that he was likely to develop +into something more than a jealous woman’s tool, a means of extracting +information she had been unable to obtain from Cooper. In fact, her +brother had seemed likely to develop into a menace to the Sultan. +Nanza’s departure from Africa left her with a feeling of relief. But +his return filled her with fears concerning the safety of her god and +Sultan. All the more because she knew Nanza had lied to her concerning +the reason of his visit to England. +</p> + +<p> +“Was it vengeance that took you to England?” she asked. “If so, I +would like to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +It was news to Nanza that Leslie had been found. But he did not tell +his sister so. +</p> + +<p> +“If you want vengeance, why did you give evidence in favor of what our +cousin said that night in Calabar?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only a woman. I feared he might slay me if I spoke against the +Star. And for the sake of vengeance I desired to live. The Lord of +Doomana was deceived by my action, thinking me then, as always, his +slave. So deceived that he left the Star in my keeping. Then my moment +came and I let her escape. For <i>your</i> sake, Nanza, so that you might +still be the heir. Now you have brought the Star back to the Ruler of +the Night! Who knows what will please a man? And I am in ill-favor all +round. For it is not good to withhold from a Sultan of Kallu the woman +he desires.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor is it good to withhold from the people of Kallu the blood that is +their due,” Nanza answered, in a tone of savage hate. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni’s face assumed an air of abject terror. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother will not betray me. What I did was from love of you. And +for that piece of treachery to the Lord of Doomana my life is +forfeit.” +</p> + +<p> +As Nanza watched his sister his suspicions died away. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a bad day for you, Yoni, when our cousin went to England on +the trail of vengeance, for he found the trail of love too. They were +so mixed, those two, that we of Kallu could not tell one from the +other until the Sultan gave us his word. And then, <i>of course</i>, we +doubted no longer. But now the Star has returned, and all will be +well.” +</p> + +<p> +Two great tears trickled down Yoni’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“It is well for you who have found her. Now you can return home in +honor. I, too, am hungry for my own people, and am shut out from them +forever,” she replied mournfully. +</p> + +<p> +Nanza laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows?” he said. “Even a sultan may die.” +</p> + +<p> +With that he sauntered off. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni watched him go, convinced that he knew something that might harm +her god. And the knowledge made her determined to warn the Sultan. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch23"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Good night!—and—Good-by!</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> first red beam shot out of the east, sending the rich fiery glow +of dawning day over a vista of densely wooded country, breaking up the +thick veil of mist that night had drawn over the landscape. The +growing light showed an endless stretch of matted forest with only one +break as far as the eye could reach. There the marble ruins of a once +great city glinted; but time had broken it almost beyond recognition, +and vegetation was swallowing the little that remained. +</p> + +<p> +White carved columns stood side by side with those of Nature’s +rearing; great arches and the scattered stones of city walls stretched +away under deep, gloomy vaults of towering trees; graceful, fluttering +palms grew among the ruins of marble palaces. It was the remains of +one of those mystic, haunting cities occasionally met with by those +who probe the all-devouring forest wastes that comprise so much of +West Africa. +</p> + +<p> +There was still life in one corner of this shattered city; one patch +the all-shrouding vegetation had not yet covered up. +</p> + +<p> +Within a huge walled garden a tiny palace showed, Moorish in design +and of a recent era. It had graceful horse-shoe arches, columned +balconies and beautiful carved arabesque windows opening on to a +center courtyard smothered with roses. There fountains played, and +orange trees, white with blossom, shaded carved stone seats. +</p> + +<p> +This miniature palace was set in a great shady garden full of winding +walks, unexpected fountains and deep, still pools where gold and +silver fish flashed among the roots of pink, white and blue +water-lilies. Roses, from the deepest red to pure white, vied in +sweetness with the sensual perfume of a thousand tropical flowers. +Palms, mangoes and bread-fruit trees cast a welcome shade over patches +of violets. Wistarias showered down a flood of petals on whispering +bamboo, and trailing jessamine found support around the trunks of +grotesque, spiky-leaved dragon trees. +</p> + +<p> +The whole of this little paradise was walled by twenty feet of marble, +with only one entrance—a gilded gate that flashed in the rising sun. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the screening walls were scores of rude huts. From these came +a busy hum. Wild, black figures flitted to and fro, and were lost +among the ruins; others sat on the ground polishing knives and spears +and shields, until they vied with the sunshine. +</p> + +<p> +There was an air of savage gaiety over everything—no suggestion of +the warfare the industrious polishing of weapons might have led one to +expect. The Hyena’s following, when they went out to battle, were +armed with something very different from the crude spears, shields and +knives they cleaned amidst loud laughter and many jokes; but they all +agreed these made a better show than white man’s weapons, and who had +ever heard of a Sultan’s bride entering Kallu save under an arch of +spears held by the picked men of her lord’s army. +</p> + +<p> +So broad-bladed spears were cleaned, and heavy, elephant-hide shields, +with flashing brass knobs, polished with a right good-will. +</p> + +<p> +Had not the Ruler of the Night at last found the Star that was his +heart’s delight? Gossip, grunts, comments, much laughter and friendly +bantering went on, whilst the old-fashioned weapons grew ever +brighter, and the stacks of wood for bonfires ever higher. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty miles away, in the deep green gloom of the forest, unconscious +of the celebrations which were to be held in her honor, Leslie was +sitting in the tent that had been her home for over six weeks. +</p> + +<p> +To her the months since receiving Lebrassa’s letter had been a kind of +mental paralysis. Now an incident had occurred which made her realize +how close the dread future was. +</p> + +<p> +On the table beside her lay a letter, and a bunch of roses held +together by a thick, heavy bracelet of red-gold with diamonds +sparkling like stars on its surface—the first gift of the Sultan to +his bride. +</p> + +<p> +The flowers, bracelet and letter were lying there, untouched, half an +hour later when Hillman entered to tell the girl the last stage of her +journey was about to start. +</p> + +<p> +Wearily Leslie rose, to be assisted into the hammock that had borne +her daily for more than six weeks. +</p> + +<p> +With the approaching end of her journey had come the haunting fear +that Lebrassa might <i>not</i> keep his side of the bargain. Even now the +man she had come to save might have been killed. It was hardly likely +the Hyena would let such a determined enemy as Captain Fletcher live +and go free. +</p> + +<p> +These facts passed through Leslie’s mind as she was jogged along in +the hammock. Assuming her lover were still alive, she was trying to +think out some way of saving him from the result of her own folly and +his enemy’s vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +There <i>was</i> one way of making sure of Captain Fletcher’s safety. But +it meant such a long vista of horror for her—not the quick way of +death she had decided on. +</p> + +<p> +As the afternoon wore on, the forest grew less dense, and more +sunshine dribbled through the matted branches. A desire to meet her +fate standing seized Leslie. She raised herself on her elbow and +looked round for her guardian. +</p> + +<p> +The movement brought Hillman to her side. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Miss Graham?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to walk the rest of the way.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor looked at her in the manner he frequently had used since +their first meeting in Lisbon—as if wondering why his patron should +run such risks in order to get this white-faced wraith of a girl into +his possession. +</p> + +<p> +“You can hardly do that,” he answered. “We’ve still two miles to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to walk. I can’t stay here any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +A voice that would be very powerful in Kallu had stated its desire. +The doctor helped Leslie from her litter. Then the procession started +again, following in the wake of the two. +</p> + +<p> +The girl had no idea how long she walked. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed hardly to have left the hammock when the path widened and +scattered blocks of masonry showed up. The trees grew farther and +farther apart and, between them, ruins loomed. She went on, wondering +why the sun was shining, why it was not all as black as her own +future. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the world became a brilliant flood of golden light, that +flashed on a long avenue of spears. +</p> + +<p> +She was aware the doctor left her just as the first two silent, black +warriors were reached. There seemed an endless double row of them, all +watching her, all black, all with rolling, blood-shot eyes. +</p> + +<p> +As she entered the arch of spears, the wild war-cry greeted her. +</p> + +<p> +With set, white face she went on, thinking the savage roar would +follow her into eternity, and emerged into a wide, open square. Marble +walls and a glittering gate formed one side, the other three were +living walls—an excited, eager crowd, all watching her, all shouting. +</p> + +<p> +The dazzling glare of tropical sunshine did not blind her to a man +coming toward her, bareheaded, the only person there in European +dress. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa halted beside her, gazing intently at her white, scornful +face. +</p> + +<p> +“May I say ‘Welcome to Kallu,’ little rose?” he asked with a touch of +pleading. +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. +</p> + +<p> +A light breeze sighed through the forest, bringing with it the excited +whisper of thousands watching the meeting of their Sultan and his +bride. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you no word for me, little friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see—Captain Fletcher,” Leslie said in a breathless way. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently Lebrassa expected this. Putting a hand lightly on her +shoulder, he guided her across the square toward a point where mud and +palm leaf dwellings showed. Like a receding wave, the crowd swept back +as they approached. Beyond was a group of palm trees; beneath them a +two-roomed hut, around the door of which half a dozen savages mounted +guard. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of the sentries broke up some of the haze in which Leslie +was submerged. Their presence indicated that Captain Fletcher was not +dead as she had feared. She pulled her benumbed faculties together for +the great effort of saving him. +</p> + +<p> +She quickened her pace, heedless of the black figures closing up to +block the entrance, stopping only when she realized she could not pass +them and that they had no intention of moving. +</p> + +<p> +So far Lebrassa had given no signal for the guard to admit her. He +stood waiting for the request to come from her. This Leslie quickly +grasped, for she looked at him haughtily. Just then other matters than +the horror of himself were in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell them to move,” she said coldly. +</p> + +<p> +He made a gesture, nothing more than a slight movement of his hand, +and the way was cleared. For the first time the girl realized how +all-powerful he was. Also it gave her the feeling that a word of hers +could move him as easily as he had moved the barrier. The full extent +of the influence she had over him dawned on her, and she determined to +use all means within her power to save her countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of her sweet cool voice made the two men sitting within the +hut start up. Fletcher’s face, worn and haggard, was turned towards +the door, as he stood, bound and helpless, watching the entering +couple. +</p> + +<p> +To Leslie, as she crossed the hut, there was only one thing left in +the world—the man she loved. A man with a tired, hopeless face and +weary eyes. She went up to him, to stand holding his bound arms +tightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you come, little one?” Fletcher asked hoarsely. “I’d hoped, +prayed, you wouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply, but the clutch of the small hands on his arms +tightened. +</p> + +<p> +Vincent’s husky voice roused her to the fact of his existence. +</p> + +<p> +“You shouldn’t have come, Miss Graham, whatever that black brute +threatened.” +</p> + +<p> +Wistfully she smiled at him. He was a nice-looking youngster, so fresh +and fair and Anglo Saxon; no boy of his type would ever come into her +life again. She was glad he was there. Just then it was easier to talk +to a stranger than to Captain Fletcher. +</p> + +<p> +“If I hadn’t come, it would have made no difference. I should have +been here sooner or later, once he knew where I was.” +</p> + +<p> +Her brave strained voice brought a stifled groan to the youngster’s +lips, and the look of deadly pain in Fletcher’s eyes deepened. +</p> + +<p> +From outside came the excited hum of the crowd, an occasional jabber +from the sentries, with now and again the crude blast of a horn or the +beating of tom-toms, and, above all, the sleepy sigh of trees stirred +by the breeze of sunset. +</p> + +<p> +A black bar fell across the flood of golden light streaming in at the +doorway. Leslie shivered, as if with sudden cold. Her eyes left +Fletcher’s worn face and went to the mulatto. And there they stayed +with desperate, scornful gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lebrassa,” she said in a stiff, cold voice, “you promised me +these two lives if I came here, but I know you won’t keep your word. +Death is a quick way out of my troubles. Yet—if I know that Captain +Fletcher and Lieutenant Vincent really reach safety I… I’ll promise +not to kill myself in order to get away from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bargain with him, darling,” Fletcher broke out hoarsely. “Don’t +bind yourself down to hell because of us.” +</p> + +<p> +At her words the least flicker of feeling crossed Lebrassa’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you won’t believe me when I say I’ve no intention of +breaking our bargain,” he said. “What proof would satisfy you these +two officers really reach safety?” +</p> + +<p> +“If Captain Fletcher sends a letter back with a message I give him +now, privately, signed by himself and Lieutenant Vincent and the +officers of the outpost they reach.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie spoke in a hard, forced way, as if the plan were one +desperation had forced on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. I’ll give you three minutes alone,” Lebrassa answered. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to the youngster. +</p> + +<p> +“Come outside with me, Vincent,” he commanded. +</p> + +<p> +When the two left the hut, Leslie stood looking up at Fletcher with +eyes full of love. There was no need for disguise now, when the whole +world ended with his departure. +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge of her position and his own helplessness was beyond the +man’s strength. He dropped on to a bench, his haggard, distorted face +pressed against the rough mud wall, to hide from her the tears that +agony had brought to his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Putting her arms about his neck, she drew his head on her shoulder, +trying to kiss away his pain. +</p> + +<p> +A movement outside made her arms tighten. +</p> + +<p> +“Kiss me just once, to show you don’t despise me,” she whispered. +“Then say, ‘Good night, dear, and—good-by.’ Will you put that in your +letter, ‘Good night and Good-by’?” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later a little procession—two Englishmen, with an +escort of negroes—set out into the forest. In the center of the +square Leslie stood, heedless of the man beside her, watching Fletcher +until he was lost in the shadows. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch24"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>My story is told as, long ago,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>My story was told to me.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">To</span> Leslie, as the little procession disappeared, came the feeling +that had assailed her when she had first landed in Calabar—that of +all known things gliding away from her. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, out of the world of unreality surrounding her, a voice +came. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, little rose, let me take you where you can rest and have tea.” +</p> + +<p> +In a dazed manner she looked up at Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t stand here any longer,” he said gently. “You must come with +me now.” +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing else to do but obey. +</p> + +<p> +Like one numbed, she walked with him up to the gilded gates, and on +through a maze of flowers and trees until a building was reached. She +passed through an arch into a room—a room all white and green, with +marble floor and walls, and little fountains dripping into carved +shells filled with ferns. There were alcoves draped with glistening +gauze and heavy silver lamps hung from the ceiling. The place had no +windows, but all one side was columned arches around which roses +twined. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie noticed nothing of her surroundings. Lebrassa took her across +to one of the curtained alcoves, and held the silver gauze aside so +that she might pass through. She looked at his brown hand, so dark +against the curtain, wondering why it left no red stain on the +whiteness. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond was a door. This he opened. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll find all you want in there, Leslie. Then you must come back to +me and have tea.” +</p> + +<p> +The place proved to be an ordinary bedroom which, but for the mosquito +net drawn round the bed, the marble floor and walls, and the fretted +arches screened with reed blinds, might have been any girl’s room in +far-away England. +</p> + +<p> +Taking off her hat, she sank down on one of the chairs and stayed +there, with hands clasped tightly on her knee. +</p> + +<p> +A knock roused her. A woman entered—a negress in a loose, blue cotton +smock, with big, gold hoops in her ears. +</p> + +<p> +Guessing the woman to be an emissary from her captor, Leslie rose, and +went through the shimmering draperies into the room beyond. +</p> + +<p> +Her entrance made Lebrassa, who was bending over a tea-table, look +around. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down,” he said gently. +</p> + +<p> +She sank down on the nearest lounge. And there she stayed, watching +him hostilely. The thought of Captain Fletcher’s safety had lessened +her own burden of horror. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he came to her side, a cup of tea in one hand, in the other +a cake-stand with various dishes of assorted dainties. +</p> + +<p> +“Tea, Leslie,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She took the cup he was offering. And then sat holding it, forgetting +it was there. +</p> + +<p> +How silent the room was! No sound but dripping water and this man’s +soft movements. She could quite understand Molly’s hell now! +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke into her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what would you like?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked, not at the array of dainties he was offering, but at the +swarthy face above them. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice must have lashed him with its depths of scorn and aversion. +But no flicker of feeling came to his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Drink your tea then,” he said quietly. “Afterwards we’ll talk.” +</p> + +<p> +Turning away, he went to one of the arches leading out into a center +courtyard. There he lounged, his gaze fixed in an unseeing manner on +the beauty outside. +</p> + +<p> +He looked so thoroughly English as he stood there, his face half +turned away, his hands deep in his pockets, so that she could not see +their darkness, that again Leslie had the feeling of moving in some +ghastly nightmare. She could still hardly realize <i>he</i> was the Hyena. +Mr. Lebrassa! A man she had once liked and been drawn to! +</p> + +<p> +The sound of her cup being put on a table, roused him. With a quick, +feverish movement he crossed to where she sat. There was a moment of +quivering silence as he stood with one hand on the back of her chair, +watching her hungrily. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose your mind is made up to hate and despise me,” he said +tensely. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you expect me to do anything else?” she asked, in a cold, scornful +manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect a lot from you, Leslie. And, since you’ve driven me to it, +I’ll tell you why.” +</p> + +<p> +Then from Lebrassa’s lips came a flood of words, low, fierce and +passionate. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had the world’s scorn and contempt, Leslie, but I won’t have +yours. God knows I would not smirch the whiteness of my rose. I don’t +like to tell you what I’m about to tell you now. It’s no story for a +girl’s ears. But I want so much from you, and you will give me nothing +willingly. Not a grain of pity. Not a shred of toleration. Not a +shadow of the sympathy that was so sweet. Nothing but scorn, contempt +and aversion—what all your color have dealt out to me.” +</p> + +<p> +As if gathering his words together he stopped for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I should have become the brute I am without a reason?” +he asked. “Don’t you know me well enough to have asked yourself that +question? Have you never wondered why I took that letter?” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Your</i> signature on the envelope made me take it, Leslie. I’d been +looking for someone of that name for years. And I’ll tell you why. It +started forty-five years ago, with a man’s desire for travel and +romance. There were two brothers, orphans, sons of an English +nobleman, the last of an old family. The elder was twenty-five when +his father died, the other twenty-two. Even at that age the younger +one’s life had been so vicious that his father had disinherited him. +Yet his brother stood by him, paid off his debts and gave him a fresh +start in life. Then the elder one followed his own bent. He was by +nature an artist and a dreamer, a brave man who loved travel and +adventure, and the wild romance civilization cannot bring. Fate +brought him out to Africa, to the heart of the unknown. There was a +queen reigning there, in the corner of a ruined city, a girl barely +fifteen. She was the daughter of an African Sultan and his chief wife, +a negress with a dash of white blood in her. This young queen was a +girl of great beauty, resembling more her unknown white ancestors than +her negro parents. See, Leslie, here she is! Irena, Queen of Kallu, +Daughter of the Stars.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa drew aside a curtain screening an alcove near. +</p> + +<p> +A life-size portrait was behind, a picture of a girl with a tawny, +yellow skin, who looked like a lovely purring tigress. But her great, +black eyes smiled out at the world, full of love and tenderness. +</p> + +<p> +The artist had been clever and realistic, for the stars flashing among +her wealth of black curls glittered with gold-dust put on before the +paint had dried. Golden armlets, strewn with golden stars, glistened +against her golden skin. A robe of purple gauze, like the darkest +night, draped her from shoulder to ankle, scarcely hiding the golden +sheen of herself. Stars held the sleeveless garment on her tawny +shoulders, and were strewn about its hem. On her softly rounded bosom +was a golden ornament, the shape of a hyena’s head, with lips curled +back on a vicious snarl over tiny white fangs, and green eyes that +leered diabolically. +</p> + +<p> +She stood, a daughter of Sultans, proudly smiling, a slim girl, like a +golden reed, draped in the garment of the night, with the crest of her +race on her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +The curtain dropped, and Lebrassa’s low, tense voice started again. +</p> + +<p> +“Her European ancestry was shown in more than her light skin and +unusual beauty. It was shown in her aversion to marry with any of the +negro chieftains from neighboring districts. And this Englishman was +brought to her, a prisoner found trespassing on her lands—the first +white man she had seen. She was a queen. The priests desired her +marriage. If her choice fell on this stranger, a man fair-skinned, +with hair that gleamed like her golden jewels, was it very surprising? +The surprise was not there, but on the other side. This Englishman, +her prisoner, grew to love her as few women are loved—this wild, +golden girl who had picked him for her consort, this daughter of +savage negro Sultans, Irena, Queen of Kallu. He was a man who honored +and respected women. He took her away, far beyond the bounds of the +corner where she ruled, and married her at a Protestant mission. She +was his legal wife as surely as if she had been an Englishwoman.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief pause. +</p> + +<p> +Dark shadows were creeping into the arched recesses of the room. +Lebrassa struck a tiny gong. Its mellow voice brought a soft-footed +servant who lighted the lamps and vanished as noiselessly as he had +appeared. Their glow gave a golden sheen to the purple of advancing +night, a purple that was rapidly growing deeper. +</p> + +<p> +“They came back to Kallu,” Lebrassa went on when the servant had +disappeared. “This little palace he had built from the ruins of a once +great city. And he lived here with his wife, teaching her, dreaming, +and painting. A time came when he was awakened. For something occurred +to the possibility of which I doubt if he had ever given a thought. A +third came into the little paradise he had made for himself and one +other. A problem confronted the dreamer: a problem he had created and +was responsible for. A son was born, heir alike to all that was his +father’s and his mother’s, to light and darkness, to civilization and +barbarism, to English culture and African savagery. But he was a just +man, and he determined his son should have every chance.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa stopped for a moment, then he went on again, but in a quiet, +dreary way. +</p> + +<p> +“A little, a very little of my history I once told you, Leslie, so +pleased that you should wish to hear. I was a year old when my father +took me to England. He did not take me as his son, but under another +name, the one you know me by. Afterwards I kept it, because I couldn’t +prove my claim to a better. I was put into an English clergyman’s +family as a mulatto boy in whom he was interested, to be brought up in +the ways of civilization. I was five years old when I first remember +seeing the man I afterwards knew to be my father. Just when I was +beginning to realize I was not as the other children at the vicarage, +but a nigger. It was some time before I knew all that the word meant, +but I felt it was one of contempt.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, as if hoping for some word from Leslie. Her gaze was on the +picture. The name “Irena” was familiar. It had been on the golden +armlet she had found among her father’s possessions. It had been on +his lips occasionally, when attacks of raving, which subsequent +knowledge of the world had told her were delirium tremens, had him in +their grip. Although she had no idea what Lebrassa’s confession was +leading up to, a feeling of dire disaster, outside of anything to do +with her being in his power, gradually was creeping over her. +</p> + +<p> +“I remember quite well how I felt when I reached the stage of reading +for myself and crept into the library to find out the meaning of the +word they threw at me in anger,” his voice continued. “The next time +it came from English lips, from a boy two years my senior, I fought +him and made him take his word back. I believe I would have killed +him, for I was a Sultan of Kallu even in those days, but the nurse +separated us. She called me ‘a little black devil’ and locked me in my +room for the rest of the day. A few weeks after this I first saw my +father—my guardian I thought he was. That episode was told him, +together with other instances of uncontrollable temper and childish +arrogance. The short time he stayed in England we spent together. He +explained to me the mixed blood in me. He said he wanted me to grow up +to be an Englishman. He said I must not let my savage instincts +conquer me. That I must learn to control myself, to prove myself +worthy to be called a white man. I knew he liked me, and I loved him. +After that God alone knows how I fought with myself to try to become +the man he wished. As I grew up I fought the white race, but in a +different manner, with my brains. And I always won. I was first in my +studies and in my games. But I still remained ‘that nigger.’ Jealousy +applied the term to me then. I made no friends at school. The boys I +would have liked to be friendly with avoided me. Those who would have +had me for their friend, I avoided. From Africa letters came +frequently, encouraging, helpful letters from the man I loved and was +striving to please.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s voice trailed off into silence, to become one with the sigh +of the night wind drifting through the arches. +</p> + +<p> +“I only saw my father three times,” he continued, “the last when I was +about sixteen. I remember how elated I was on that occasion. I’d just +won a scholarship that would take me on to college. I was delighted to +tell my benefactor this, to know I should be no further expense to the +man who had done so much for me. I remember wondering why he laughed +when I told him, and how he told me he would give me a good allowance +in spite of my scholarship. And I knew he was pleased with me, my +success, my control over myself. For he told me I was a ‘white man,’ +and how glad he was that he had given me my chance. Then he gave me a +sealed letter, saying he could rely on my word of honor not to open it +until I was eighteen. I sometimes wonder why he did so. But afterwards +I learnt he had a weak heart, and he may have felt his doom was upon +him.” +</p> + +<p> +As if brooding on the long-dead past, Lebrassa paused again. +</p> + +<p> +“I went on to college,” he began. “But at the end of the second term +my allowance stopped. The firm of solicitors who forwarded the money +could tell me nothing except that my patron, Mr. Godfrey—the name I +knew him by—had not sent his usual remittance to them. My scholarship +kept me going. At the bottom of my box was a sealed letter, my most +cherished possession, to be opened when I was eighteen. I was very +honorable in those days, Leslie, too honorable to open that letter +after I had given my word. And you will hear now all that honor did +for me. Had I been less honorable there would have been no Hyena. I +should have been able to outwit my enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa stopped again, as if hoping for some comment from the girl. +But she said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t make you understand what that letter was to me, Leslie. It +was a legacy from my lost friend who I felt must be dead. It kept me +silent and uncomplaining under the burden of gibes and insults your +color heaped upon me. Some of the fault may have been mine. At times I +forgot I was a ‘nigger’ and stated my ideas and opinions in a manner +my colleagues would not brook from a person they considered so much +their inferior.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another pause. +</p> + +<p> +From beyond the garden the flare of bonfires lit the sky, and sparks +flew out in golden showers drenching the soft purple of the night. The +wind sighed through the open arches, bringing the scent of roses and +the sound of distant merrymaking—of crowds rejoicing over their +Sultan’s happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Tense and low the mulatto’s voice came again, whispering and sighing +away into the depths of the silent room. +</p> + +<p> +“Then my eighteenth birthday came. And what that letter told me! It +was from a father to a son he was proud of, who he had once thought +might bring dishonor on an ancient name, but who had proved himself +worthy of his heritage. I was not Essel Lebrassa, the bastard son of +a negro woman as I had imagined myself to be, a waif, brought to +England out of charity by a man who desired to experiment. I was Essel +de Tourville, only and legal son of Richard, Earl of Alglenton, heir +to one of the oldest names in England. My existence was known only to +two English people, my father and his brother. There was a lot about +my mother in the letter, and it told me of my African heritage and +where it was situated. I did not want that. It was the English one I +craved, because it took the stigma from me. Shall I tell you of the +dreams I dreamt that night? Not dreams of self-advancement, but of all +I could do for the country I loved in spite of the insults it had +dealt out to me. I would be one of its peers, would have a voice in +its management, could do for it in its African possessions what no +other man could do, understanding so well both the black and white +sides of all the problems different colors bring, having both black +and white in me. They were a boy’s dreams, rudely shattered. The next +morning I was up in Town with the solicitor who had sent me notice of +the cessation of my allowance nearly two years before. I showed him my +letter. He laughed at me. Richard, Earl of Alglenton had died +unmarried and had been succeeded by his brother, the Honorable Lionel +de Tourville. My letter was a hoax. The invention of a madman. It +proved nothing. ‘Would the present peer, knowing the existence of his +brother’s son, have deprived him of his heritage?’ ‘Would the late +Earl of Alglenton have so far forgotten what was due to him as a peer +of England to have legally married a negro woman?’ These and other +questions he put to me, all the time laughing at me. I must produce my +mother’s marriage certificate, my own birth certificate, before I +could expect anyone to listen to a story as mad as mine.” +</p> + +<p> +By now Leslie was looking at Lebrassa in a strained way, her eyes +brought to his by the mention of the names “Richard” and “Alglenton.” +</p> + +<p> +“My faith in my letter was unshaken,” he went on. “I left the office +laughing at myself. In my excitement I had forgotten such things as +certificates were necessary. Then out of the whirl I was moving in, +came another thought. Why had my uncle sent me no news of my father’s +death? Why had he stepped so calmly into my place? I thought no evil +of my father’s brother, and I soon found an answer to my own +questions. It was my father’s wish that all facts should be kept from +me until my eighteenth birthday. My uncle had taken my place to avoid +explanations. I had yet to find out what manner of man I was dealing +with. I decided to go and see my uncle. I consulted a directory and +found my own town address. I found him in my own house. He was a +clever villain. My card was given to him and he had me admitted. I +recognized him at once by his likeness to the Mr. Godfrey I’d known. I +did not expect him to claim me kin until he had seen my father’s +letter. I said why I’d come and brought out my letter. He took it in a +strangely quiet way. I know now that he had no idea I had it. It was +some evidence. Experts could prove that the handwritings of Mr. +Godfrey and Richard, Earl of Alglenton, were identical, the work of +the same man. I was not expecting treachery. I judged him by my +father. I had to learn they were very different. He left me, crossed +to the fire and stood there reading my letter. Then, Leslie, before I +knew what was happening, he had burnt it! Burnt my letter!” +</p> + +<p> +As if the agony of that moment were still upon him, Lebrassa paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Then he turned on me in mockery, asking me what I meant by bringing +such a lunatic’s tale to him. He denied all knowledge of my existence, +of my father’s marriage; of all my letter contained. I was +dumbfounded. Too late I realized the villain I was dealing with. I +knew it was his intention to defraud me, to keep my heritage from me. +Although he had burnt my letter, I knew its contents by heart. In it +had been given cursory information as to the whereabouts of my +mother’s country. But it was enough for me. I determined to go there, +get my certificates and again confront him. During the few days I +remained in England I learnt more of my father and uncle. How my +father had died suddenly of heart disease two days after I’d last seen +him, just as he was about to start out to Africa. No one but my uncle +knew what took him there. Society had long since ceased to talk about +him, dubbing him an eccentric man who preferred the wilds to England. +My uncle spent the year following his brother’s death abroad, before +launching himself as the Earl of Alglenton. I was soon to know how his +time had been spent.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief pause. Leslie’s gaze was still on Lebrassa, in a +fixed, anxious manner, as if she dreaded what he might say next. +</p> + +<p> +“God knows, little rose, I wouldn’t tell you this,” he went on in a +strained way, “but I want your love and sympathy. It is my right and +due as surely as was the Earldom of Alglenton.” +</p> + +<p> +He laid his hand on her shoulder, looking down at her hungrily. She +did not shrink from his touch. She did not even know his hand was upon +her. She sat just waiting, petrified, at the knowledge of some +unknown, ghastly horror that was sweeping toward her. +</p> + +<p> +“Within a few days I left England for Africa,” he continued a moment +later. “It was months before I reached Kallu, longing for my unknown +mother, to lay my head on her knee and tell her how they had served +me. And what do you think I found? A tribe of maddened savages. Ten +thousand tongues clamoring for the blood of a white man, the murderer +of their queen. No certificates were needed to satisfy them who I was. +My word was enough. There were those among my mother’s people who +could speak English, taught them by my father. From them I learnt the +rest of the story. Two years before, a second white man had found his +way to Kallu. He called himself an emissary from England, sent by the +queen’s consort to ask her for certain papers she held, that her +husband needed to prove the identity of their only child. My mother +took him into the temple where she kept these treasures of hers in a +golden casket on the altar of her heathen ancestors. What happened in +there no one knew. Whether my mother suddenly suspected him of +treachery and refused to give them into his keeping, I don’t know. She +was a savage in spite of everything. Some of the instinct civilization +stifles may have come to her, telling her not to part with the papers +that gave her son his English heritage.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more Lebrassa paused, as if he saw that slim, golden girl, his +mother, alone in the Temple of the Night, standing by an ancient +altar, with her treasured papers pressed against her heart, wondering +if she dared give them into the keeping of the man who said he was a +messenger from the white husband she adored, and whose lightest word +to her was law. +</p> + +<p> +“That stranger left the temple alone,” he continued. “Nothing was +thought of it. The Queen Irena often stayed there to muse among the +forgotten gods of her ancestors. Hours passed and she still did not +appear. Then the priests entered. They found her dead, strangled on +the altar, and the casket empty.” +</p> + +<p> +The wind took up Lebrassa’s words, and they seemed to die away like a +sob in the far corners of the great room. +</p> + +<p> +“From one of the men my father had taken with him, I learnt the +whereabouts of the Mission where my parents had been married. I went +there, thinking I might prove something. I was too late again. I might +have known that villain would leave me nothing. The man who had +married them was long since dead. But there were people about the +place who remembered the marriage of an Englishman with a yellow girl +of great beauty. They searched all the books for a record of the +event. A book was found where the record should have been. But—the +page containing the entry was missing! I asked if any stray white man +had been there during the last two years. There had been several, and +one answered to my uncle’s description. I was the Sultan of Kallu. +This heritage brought me riches far surpassing my English one, if not +the honor. I went back to England, to my uncle, accusing him of +treachery. I swore I would have his life in exchange for my mother’s +unless he gave me my due. He laughed at me. In my rage I would have +killed him there and then, had not the servants stopped me. The next +year I spent in an English prison, and narrowly escaped being shut up +for life as a criminal lunatic. Twenty-two years ago England was +ringing with the story of a ‘nigger’ who imagined himself to be an +English earl. Then I went mad. I forgot civilization altogether. In an +English prison was born a man now called the Hyena.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s hand left Leslie’s shoulder. He moved a few steps away, to +a curtain screening another alcove. +</p> + +<p> +“I went back to Kallu,” he continued. “I took up every rite and +ceremony of my negro ancestors. On the altar of my heathen forefathers +I swore to have the life of the man who had defrauded me. Not only +his, but all who sprang from him. Revenge on the whole white race for +the sneers, insults, and the final degradation they had put upon me. +Then my uncle learnt that I meant what I said. And he dared not remain +in public life. So very soon England was ringing with another +story—the mysterious disappearance of the Earl of Alglenton, his +countess and infant son. For fourteen years my servants hunted him, +and in the end I caught him. But he died of pneumonia a week later. +His death left me rabid, for it seemed he had robbed me of everything, +even vengeance. Yet, presently, I was glad I had not killed him. Madly +I searched for his son, to make him pay the penalty his father had +escaped. It was not until many years later I heard his son had died in +infancy but there was—a daughter. Who was he, Leslie, this man who +stole all from me when I was a boy?” +</p> + +<p> +With a quick, passionate gesture Lebrassa drew the curtain screening +the alcove. It showed a portrait of an Englishman of about thirty, in +light, tropical garb, tall and fair and with gray eyes. +</p> + +<p> +In a dazed way Leslie looked at the picture. In spite of the +difference twenty years would make, only too well she knew of whom it +reminded her. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my father, Leslie, Richard, Earl of Alglenton. <i>Your</i> +father’s brother.” +</p> + +<p> +It had broken over her at last, that great wave of blood and blackness +and treachery that had been rapidly rising. Broken over her and +swamped her completely. +</p> + +<p> +There were a dozen things to confirm Lebrassa’s statements. Her lack +of knowledge as to who and what she really was. The wandering life her +father had led. His mysterious disappearance. His dislike of Africa, +where he said he had never been, yet his own ravings proved to the +contrary, and the names of Richard, Irena, Alglenton and Kallu had +always been on his tongue when drink had him firmly within its grip. +The armlet she had found among his possessions, similar to the ones +the pictured girl wore. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie had loved her father; he was the only relative life had given +her. For all that, as she grew older she had realized he had been a +wastrel, that his ways had not been those of an upright and honorable +man. +</p> + +<p> +Through the black cloud that seemed to choke her, Lebrassa’s voice +came. +</p> + +<p> +“And then your letter came into my hands, with the name of the son of +my enemy. And I saw <i>you</i>, heard you speaking in my defense. I had to +learn you were my cousin, my one white relative. You came to my room, +and I found out the truth. You stayed talking to me, treating me just +as if I were a white man. I went back to Africa, intending to keep my +oath. I schemed to get you to Kallu. I meant to make you pay for your +father’s crimes. Yet, when I saw you again, my only desire was to turn +you away from the trap I had laid. I had no chance against you. I +couldn’t hate you, much as I tried. I could only love you, Leslie. If +I were the man I might once have been I wouldn’t have forced you to +come to me now, knowing you had nothing but hatred for me. I’ve been a +savage too long. Too long the Sultan of Kallu. But I could be so +patient, if patience would win me a little toleration, a little liking +perhaps. God knows I’m a brute, steeped in every vice and crime, not +fit to touch you. Yet, little rose, is the blame all mine? If I went +back to savagery, who drove me?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s hands had gone to her face, as if to shut out the picture of +vile treachery he had put before her. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know. I’d no idea,” she moaned. +</p> + +<p> +That heart-broken wail made him touch her gently. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you hadn’t, darling,” he whispered. “It’s just a ghastly mess, +no more your fault than mine. The sins of the fathers that we have to +pay for.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no response. Instead came the sound of stifled sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +Her tears made him drop on his knees beside her, whispering words of +consolation. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t cry, little cousin. It’s no fault of yours. I can forgive +everything if only you’ll try to love me, touch me willingly again. +He’s not my enemy now. He’s the father of my rose. The sweetness he +created can do more than ease my pain. I was a brute to tell you. But +I couldn’t stand your hatred. Don’t cry, little cousin, dearest, +don’t. I can’t bear it.” +</p> + +<p> +The broken-hearted sobs went on, but a small, shaking, white hand came +trembling on to Lebrassa’s head. At its touch, he buried his face on +Leslie’s knee, and knelt there with his arms around her. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch25"> +CHAPTER XXV +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>In lieu of flowers from your fair land—</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Take wild growths of dreamland or starland.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> early morning breeze came whispering through the shady little +courtyard that lay in the midst of the palace. It brought a shower of +white petals fluttering down in the golden sunshine, mingling with the +silver rain of fountains. Some fell like snowflakes on a shady stone +seat where Leslie was sitting. +</p> + +<p> +She had been a week in Kallu, and with each passing day she seemed to +grow smaller, whiter and more wraith-like. +</p> + +<p> +The girl had taken the burden of her father’s sins upon herself. A way +of compensation had been shown to her, and she had accepted it, +although the weight was crushing all life out of her. In another +week’s time she was going to marry her cousin according to heathen +rites. Then he was taking her over the border, to a secluded Mission, +where they would be united in the European manner. +</p> + +<p> +Now Leslie had no desire to return to civilization. Her father’s sins +had cut her off from all her own color. The white world was no place +for her, the daughter of a man guilty of depths of treachery she once +would have deemed impossible. She was branded—as much an outcast and +pariah as the big, strange cousin whose crimes her father was morally +responsible for. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of some one coming through one of the horseshoe arches +roused her. Now she knew that footfall very well. And it made her look +round with a smile, pathetic in its wistfulness. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa crossed to her side. He noticed her forced air of welcome. +And he noticed also that daily the girl grew thinner. She was visibly +wasting away, and only too well he knew the reason. Half-kneeling on +the seat beside her, he drew a branch of orange blossom down until it +touched her head. +</p> + +<p> +Every morning brought Leslie some gift from her cousin, the Sultan. +His presents varied considerably, from heavy, barbaric jewels, rich +and rare and gaudy, to a tiny specimen of a deer, so small that it had +been sent in a foot-square hamper, so tame that it now lay at her +feet. +</p> + +<p> +His dark, tainted eyes were quick to see this morsel of life found +more favor in her sight than all the costly jewels he heaped upon her. +</p> + +<p> +That morning, with her early breakfast, had come a tiny cage, not more +than four inches square, made of fine gold wire and studded with gems. +In it was a mite of a bird, little bigger than a bumble bee, +bright-eyed and very much alive. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing it, for the first time since reaching Kallu, Leslie had +laughed. It was such an absurd morsel, such a complete cage with +feeding troughs, perches and a swing, everything a bird needed. And +the servant who had brought the present had glided silently away to +tell his royal master how much the gift had pleased. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie had sipped her coffee, talking to her new pet, pinhead, +beady eyes had watched her, as if trying to explain that, in spite of +its minuteness, it was a bird, and there was one thing the golden, +jeweled cage lacked. It had chirped so loudly about its missing +privilege that, the moment breakfast was over, she had taken the cage +out into the courtyard. Now it stood empty on the seat beside her. +</p> + +<p> +This Lebrassa noticed the moment his gaze came from his cousin’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’ve let it go!” he exclaimed. “And I was told you liked it.” +</p> + +<p> +She laid a thin, apologetic hand on his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, Essel, but it didn’t like being shut up, so I had to let +it out.” +</p> + +<p> +His given name on her lips always brought a look of pleasure to his +face. But on this occasion the look had died away by the time her +sentence was finished. +</p> + +<p> +Moving the tiny cage, he seated himself beside her, and stayed there +in thoughtful silence. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re making me very much the son of my father, Leslie,” he +volunteered presently. “When you’re about I seem to have no connection +with the savages on my mother’s side.” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced at him, wondering what he was leading up to. +</p> + +<p> +His gaze, however, was on the empty, golden cage. +</p> + +<p> +“If I said you needn’t marry me and sent you back to England, do you +think you’d get quite well and happy again?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d much rather stay here—now.” +</p> + +<p> +He realized that the fact of her father’s crimes made her wish to +avoid all people of her own color. +</p> + +<p> +“I was a brute to tell you,” he said in a voice choked with feeling. +“I was a fool not to have known it would crush the life out of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +A light wind breathed through the garden, bringing the scent of roses, +the cooing of doves, and the ceaseless drip of fountains. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it isn’t just the thought of me and all I wish that makes you +look so tired and worn?” he asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m only too glad to be able to make some return.” +</p> + +<p> +He got to his feet, watching her tenderly. Then he took one of her +listless hands into his, holding it carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re just a rose, Leslie, and crushing brings out all your +sweetness. Do try and think of me only as my father’s son. Try not to +dwell on my mother’s side,” he begged. +</p> + +<p> +“I never think of you now except as my cousin,” she answered. “I know +you would have been very different but for—my father,” she finished, +in a voice that trembled. +</p> + +<p> +He raised her hand to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did I ever tell you?” he cried, his voice full of pain. +</p> + +<p> +Kissing her hand he turned quickly away, and disappeared through one +of the arches. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie spent a long, listless morning, then lunch-time came—a +solitary meal set in the coolest corner of the marble room. It was +followed by a silent afternoon, hot and breathless, when everything, +even the insects, seemed to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes Leslie wondered where her cousin was. She never saw him +except for a few minutes in the morning and again in the evening when, +with the cool of approaching sunset, he came to take her for a walk. +</p> + +<p> +When the rising night wind woke up the sleeping trees, Lebrassa’s step +roused Leslie as she sat reading on the terrace of the marble room. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +With a weary air, she picked up and pulled on a large hat lying on a +chair near. As she walked by his side she saw nothing unless it was +pointed out to her. A cloud of black and red had risen between her and +earth’s beauties, shutting out the world, leaving her alone with a man +who was her cousin, yet half a negro. +</p> + +<p> +She watched him as he leant over a bed of violets gathering a bunch +for her. Blacker than her father’s crimes loomed her own future. She +felt crushed between the two, with no escape from either. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me pin them on, darling?” he asked as he straightened himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, if you wish to,” she answered, smiling wistfully at him. +</p> + +<p> +Then she watched his brown fingers that looked so dark against her +white frock. So dark that only with an effort could she keep herself +from shivering. Just then, when he was so close, the negro in him +seemed so terrible, more insurmountable than all the crimes of his own +doing. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving the garden they passed through the village, and on into the +cool depths of the forest. The night shadows were lengthening, and the +relics of the forgotten city stood like white ghosts in the green +gloom. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie went on, thinking of Captain Fletcher, knowing her father’s +infamy shut her out from all such as he. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s voice broke the silence that had enveloped them since +entering the forest. +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows, Leslie,” he began, his gaze on the ancient ruins, “perhaps +the black people were the first on earth. There was darkness before +light, and night before day. We know there have been civilizations +which time has buried. Perhaps the Sphinx itself is a monument of a +past negro civilization, for it has a very negroid cast of features. +The negroes may not be what the world thinks, a race just getting +light from the whites, but the descendants of an ancient civilization, +now forgotten. Perhaps, if one only knew it, it’s not such a disgrace +to be a nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie listened, not minding what subject he talked on now, so long as +it was not love. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you the last of your race?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s you, little cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +“I meant——” +</p> + +<p> +Abruptly she stopped. +</p> + +<p> +Her remark and pause brought a dreary smile to his lips. It told him +just what he was in her estimation. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean my mother’s race? I’ve two cousins, children of my mother’s +younger sister. Is that the only side you can see of me? I want to be +all white with you, yet you can only see the nigger. You’re very sweet +to me now, but I know it’s only to pay a debt. Don’t think I don’t +know it. And appreciate it, too. I’m thankful for so little where I’d +once dared to hope for so much.” +</p> + +<p> +In silence the walk continued. And away in the forest, a prowling +hyena laughed, loud and long and with wild mockery. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch26"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Both by land and sea we have travell’d far.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mhaki</span>, the high-priest, squatted among the ruins of a forgotten city +watching the night shadows gather. He sat with his back against a +marble block, listening to the sounds drifting through the night. +</p> + +<p> +There was one that always left him alert—a single howl of hyena’s +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +He watched the shadows gather till the darkness shut out everything, +and brought a life all its own—a whispering, rustling, creeping, +stealthy life that preyed one on the other. Every noise that drifted +through the bush he noted. Presently a sudden cessation of all sounds +made his old eyes go sharply to a track just ahead of him. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of those silences that fall upon all smaller forest life +when a common enemy is abroad. The high-priest listened, knowing it +meant either the presence of man or some big beast of prey, and his +hand grasped a spear lying just in front of him. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a sound that made him start up quickly. +</p> + +<p> +About three hundred yards away, along the one lone trail that led to +Kallu, came a long-drawn howl, a solitary hyena’s cry. There was a +moment’s pause, then two howls came, from Mhaki’s lips this time. +Three answered him. The repetition made his gnarled old hands lose +their grip of things, and his spear fell to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +It was Nanza’s signal. The truth had come to Kallu at last! And +Nanza’s return said his worst fears were verified. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a dark figure loomed up. +</p> + +<p> +With trembling knees the old priest went to meet him. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, Nanza,” he said, “what message do you bring? Yet your return +spells the Sultan Essel’s treachery.” +</p> + +<p> +“I bring proof to all Bhessu said,” Nanza answered. “And, Mhaki, night +whispers to me that the Star is in Kallu. It should please my cousin +to see the daughter of his mother’s murderer sacrificed on the altar +her father defiled.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know the Star is here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Night whispered it,” Nanza answered. “But this is no time for gossip. +In some safe spot, let me show you the proofs I’ve brought.” +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki drew out a soiled cloth and tied it over his visitor’s eyes. +Then he led him towards the wilderness of creepers and shattered +masonry. +</p> + +<p> +After they had gone some distance Nanza was told to stoop and crawl. +When the bandage was removed, he found himself in what appeared to be +an underground cellar. +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki produced a wooden lever from a corner and inserted it into a +crevice between the flags forming the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“There are many ways into the Temple of Night, but this is known only +to me and the Sultan,” he grunted, as a two-foot square stone heaved +up in response to his efforts. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath was a narrow spiral stairway, twisting down a funnel-like hole +until it was lost in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Taking a lamp from a niche near, Mhaki started down. The winding stair +led to a heavy wooden door. This the high-priest opened. +</p> + +<p> +The feeble light showed a fair-sized cave with curious signs and +symbols on the rugged walls. A spring gurgled up in one corner; close +by was a slit in the solid rock, wide enough for a man to walk +through, that led on to darkness again. +</p> + +<p> +A lounge, a table and a case of books showed up in one corner. +</p> + +<p> +There Mhaki went, placing his battered lamp on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the Chamber of Musing,” he volunteered. “It lies just behind +the Throne of Night.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused and pointed to the slit. +</p> + +<p> +“That leads to the temple, but the secret of its entrance is known +only to the reigning sultan and the high-priest. Now, Nanza, the +proofs. And if your story is false, you will stay here until death +finds you. For no one knows the way that leads to and from this room +except the Sultan Essel and myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Nanza smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I, at least, am no traitor,” he said proudly. “Here are the proofs, +white man’s proofs with seals and documents and signatures as you +requested.” +</p> + +<p> +From his loin cloth he drew a flat packet and laid it on the table. +</p> + +<p> +With shaking fingers Mhaki opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you come by all these?” he asked, as several photographs and +a bulky sealed letter came to light. +</p> + +<p> +“As you advised, I went to Calabar. There I made friends with people +who had been friends of Bhessu’s, Cooper, that is, and the white woman +who was his wife. He had talked much about her. I learnt where they +had met and what her name was from a man to whom he had given a +photograph, taken the day they were married. I heard all that was +said, and afterwards, when darkness fell, I returned by stealth to the +house of this great talker and took that picture. Then on to England. +From friends I made during the voyage I learnt the manner of tracing +people among the whites. I was told there were those in London who +lived by finding out all concerning others. To such I went. Gold did +the rest. There, signed and sealed, untouched by me since I left their +office, is what they found. It proves the woman who was Cooper’s wife +to be no murderer’s child. She was the daughter of a man who served in +a store where cloth was sold. The niece of another who to this day +bakes bread for the city. And he bears witness to all that is written +here. There is a picture, too, that I bought from him.” +</p> + +<p> +From the papers, Nanza drew out a portrait of two girls, with dark and +fair heads together. +</p> + +<p> +“That,” he said, pointing to Leslie, “is the child of that foul +murderer. Not this one, as the Sultan Essel would have us believe,” +Nanza went on, putting a black finger on Molly’s pictured face. +“Because none of us in Kallu, but you, had any white man’s learning, +he thought we were easy to dupe. Here is what the people of London +told me. Write to them if you wish. I’m content to stay here until you +have proved my words to be true.” +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki opened the sealed letter. +</p> + +<p> +Messrs. Speyer and Speyer, private detectives of London, would have +been very surprised had they known that the mass of information a +wealthy colored client had desired them to find concerning a certain +Molly Seaton, married about two years before at a Liverpool registry +office to a negro named Horten Cooper, whom she had met in a Harrogate +hotel, would be opened in the inner chamber of a heathen temple, some +five hundred miles up-country in West Africa. +</p> + +<p> +Tracing Molly had proved a simple task. From Harrogate they had +followed her history backwards, through the years of her clerkship in +London to a childhood spent in Islington where her father had been a +cashier in a big drapery store. It described her minutely at every +stage of her career. There were copies of her birth certificate, dated +twenty-nine years before, and of her marriage certificate. The letter +told how Molly Seaton had found a child called Leslie Graham, supposed +to have been deserted in London, about eight years before, and how the +two had lived together to within a few months of Molly’s marriage. It +proved beyond doubt that the Molly Seaton born in Islington +twenty-nine years ago was the same Molly Seaton who had married a +negro called Horten Cooper in Liverpool twenty-seven years later. +</p> + +<p> +For more than two hours Mhaki pored over it all. He read and re-read +the letter and studied the photographs. Yet, in spite of everything, +his faithful old heart wanted more proof before condemning the son of +his beloved Irena. +</p> + +<p> +“I would have more proof,” he said at length. “The condemning of a +Sultan of Kallu is no light matter. There may be some flaw that even +these people have not grasped. I must have more proof before I lay +these papers before the other priests.” +</p> + +<p> +Evilly Nanza smiled, the smile of one who holds the ace of trumps up +his sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve proof beyond all this. Proof that will satisfy even you. And I +found it for myself. I made friends with that uncle who bakes bread, +and I paid him well to tell me all he knew about these two women. He +had a box containing goods belonging to his niece and her friend. And +I went through it carefully. I found there a picture of two faces both +of which Kallu knows.” +</p> + +<p> +From his loin cloth Nanza drew out a thin, oblong packet, wrapped in +oil silk. This he opened and handed to the high-priest. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are these two?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Speechless Mhaki looked at the picture. +</p> + +<p> +It was a photograph of a man of about fifty-five, with a handsome, +dissipated face. Standing by his side was a little girl of perhaps +eleven, who smiled out at the world in a frank, friendly way. The +first Mhaki knew at a glance. He was the stranger who had come to +Kallu and murdered the Queen Irena. On the second his eyes lingered. +Big, dark eyes looked back at him with fearless innocence. In spite of +the difference between the child of eleven and the grown-up woman, he +knew who it was. The girl the Sultan proposed to marry! +</p> + +<p> +There was no room for further doubt. It was proof direct. The Sultan +Essel had lied! +</p> + +<p> +The old man got up suddenly, the gleam of the fanatic in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, Nanza! There has been a law these twenty years in Kallu, one of +the Sultan Essel’s making: ‘Death to all traitors.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +With savage satisfaction Nanza laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that would satisfy you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I want no further proof. I see here the murderer with his child. I +must have time to convince the priesthood of the truth of all you have +brought. The Sultan is Lord of Doomana, and none will believe his +treachery readily. I have a plan. Give me time. It’s for your sake I +ask. Did those beyond know of your presence here you would be slain +before I could save you. We must work stealthily. First I must +convince the priests of the Sultan’s treachery. If they are satisfied +we will wait. Then, on the night of his marriage, when all the tribe +are gathered together to witness it, we will accuse him as he stands +with her, on the Throne of Night, desiring to make her Queen of +Kallu—this offspring of the accursed one, this daughter of his +mother’s murderer! There will be no escape for him or her. First he +shall see her die. Then we will deal with him.” +</p> + +<p> +Mhaki swept together all the correspondence. Then, blowing out the +light, he seized his companion’s arm and led him on into darkness. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch27"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>A horror of outer darkness.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A vast</span> hall of darkness, so great that it seemed to have no end; a +place blacker than the deepest night, with no glint of light or life. +Yet life was there, for out of the gloomy depths came the buzz of a +multitude, eager and suppressed, now nothing more than a sighing +breath, again a loud excited whisper that rose and echoed away until +space swallowed it up. +</p> + +<p> +The sighing breath took an upward rush, resounding through the +darkness like the thunder of surf, to die away again in whispering, +waiting silence. +</p> + +<p> +A speck of light appeared, a pin-prick in the vast gloom. Gradually it +came closer, and halted, shining high above everything. +</p> + +<p> +The light showed a girl with a tired, white face, clad in a robe of +purple gauze that swathed her with the billowy softness of a cloud. +Her bare arms and shoulders were loaded with barbaric jewels—a +rainbow mass of glittering color, looking almost too heavy for her to +carry. +</p> + +<p> +Her appearance made a wild shout come up from beneath. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, Star, Bride of the Night. All darkness gives you welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie had no idea what was said, only a roar of savage sound came +from the depths her strained eyes were trying to fathom. +</p> + +<p> +The noise died away, to be followed by a silence so still that it +seemed to whisper. +</p> + +<p> +Then from a long way off a voice spoke in cultured English. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, dearest, there’s nothing to fear.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie came of a race that died fighting. Although the voice left her +cold and shivering, it reminded her that a debt had to be paid. +</p> + +<p> +She stepped forward into the gloom. Each step brought frantic, +hysterical courage; a determination to wipe off, if possible, her +father’s infamy; to give this big, strange cousin all he wanted; never +to let him know the depths of her aversion. +</p> + +<p> +She reached the bottom of the long flight of rude stone steps. The +lantern she carried showed nothing but empty space, and from beyond +came the murmur of thousands. +</p> + +<p> +She went forward. Other steps appeared, leading upwards. When she +reached the top of these, out of the gloom some one leant towards her, +whispering to her not to be afraid. +</p> + +<p> +As the two met, suddenly a thousand torches flared up at all points of +the vast underground hall, and a minute later a hundred bonfires burst +into life. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie gazed around. It was darkness no longer, but yellow curling +mist and smoke and flames. The flare revealed great arches stretching +away on either side, until they looped out into a gigantic circle. In +each a bonfire danced, lighting the enclosed ring, but accentuating +the gloom beyond. There was an inner circle of men, five deep, with +spears and shields, all holding torches—men with scarred black faces +and fang-like teeth. In front of these again were shadowy figures +draped from head to foot in black, with nothing but their rolling eyes +to tell they were alive. +</p> + +<p> +Behind them was a sea of faces, all black, all watching her, +stretching away until they became nothing more than gleaming eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s gaze came back from the countless wild faces to her immediate +surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +She was standing on a square block of black rock. Close behind loomed +what appeared to be a great night cloud spreading away until it was +lost in the shadows. At the first glance it was nothing more than a +cloud, cunningly represented by some sculptor of forgotten ages. As +she gazed, out of the billowy mass form came. It held her fascinated. +It was not a cloud banked up behind the place where she was standing, +but a great shape, neither God, nor beast, nor devil, yet all three so +blended that they were lost in one. A fearsome Thing, yet strangely +human. +</p> + +<p> +She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at it once more. It was +a cloud again, slowly taking shape as she gazed. Its face was bestial, +devilish and divine, with eyes that glowed dully in the firelight. +Eyes, which, on first inspection, appeared to be two stars peeping out +from the night. Some long-dead artist’s conception of the darkness +from which all life sprang. +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes left the cloud and went back to Lebrassa. There they stayed, +frightened and fascinated. +</p> + +<p> +He was clad in a long, straight, black gown, his massive bare arms +flashing with golden armlets. A worn circlet of gold, with strange +signs and symbols, was on his crisp, wavy hair. The sight sent a chill +through her. There was so little of the Englishman left. So much of +the savage, negro Sultan. +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke in on her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t watch that beast, darling, or he’ll gather you into +everlasting darkness.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice brought back the knowledge of his English side, and her own +determination. +</p> + +<p> +“But it isn’t quite a beast. One way it looks almost god-like.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve watched it for days on end, and seen nothing but the beast and +devil.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you haven’t looked at it in the right way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or with the right eyes, little rose.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Doomana, the shadow of all things. The darkness from which all earth +sprang, according to the legend of my mother’s people. A lowering mass +of evil that has brooded over this temple since time past all memory. +That gathered me into its clutches more than twenty years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +Gently she touched his arm. At that moment the knowledge of her debt +loomed large before her. +</p> + +<p> +The light touch brought him bending over her, anxious and eager. +</p> + +<p> +“Little cousin, if I’d come to you clean-handed, my father’s son, not +the Sultan of Kallu, could you have overlooked the black if there had +been no red of my own making?” +</p> + +<p> +Bravely she answered, with no hint of the ice that seemed to freeze +her heart and stop its beating. +</p> + +<p> +“There would have been no red, Essel dear, but for my father.” +</p> + +<p> +The endearment, the first that had passed her lips, brought a smile +that took all the lines of cruelty from his mouth. He drew her arm +through his, where it stayed, cold, but unresisting. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie stood, staring straight in front of her, until a burst of wild +music brought her mind back to earth again. +</p> + +<p> +A procession was winding its way through the gloom beyond the arches, +all wearing straight black gowns. Leslie guessed them to be priests. +There were perhaps fifty of them, headed by an old man carrying a tray +of carved ebony on which reposed a wreath of golden stars, a crown +similar to the one worn by the girl-queen, Irena. +</p> + +<p> +From the shadow a voice chanted some old, weird melody, wild and +haunting. Now and again, thousands answered it in a chorus that was +deafening. +</p> + +<p> +As Leslie watched the approaching procession of priests, it seemed to +her they looked at her in anything but a friendly manner—almost as if +they hated her. Quite different from the way the black soldiers used +to look at her when she went with her cousin among his people. She +glanced up at him, wondering if he had noticed it. But he had eyes for +her and nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, dearest?” he asked, when their eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be glad when it’s all over.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will soon come to an end,” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie wondered whether it would be a month, a year, or whether old +age would come before the debt was settled and a welcome death claimed +her. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of the steps leading to the rocky throne where she and +Lebrassa stood, the procession halted. Silence fell on the multitude. +A silence broken only by the crackle of the flames as the assembly +stood waiting for the high-priest to begin the ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +Then Mhaki’s voice came. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, Essel, Sultan of Kallu. Lord of Doomana. Ruler of the Night. +Heir of all Darkness. Hail, Star, Bride of the Night, set to shine +high on the Throne of Night, a gift from the Sultan to his people.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was aware that her cousin drew her in front of him, holding her +close against him. +</p> + +<p> +Over her head his voice came thundering. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, all Kallu. A Star has risen to shine in the Heart of Darkness.” +</p> + +<p> +Next came Mhaki’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +Mounting half-way up the steps, he stood facing the crowd, holding on +high the glittering crown. +</p> + +<p> +“See, all Kallu! What is set above the night, as night is set above +the earth?” +</p> + +<p> +“The stars. And a star was sent to earth to wed with the one who first +ruled in Kallu, in the shadow of the Night, as Lord of Doomana. And to +his heirs, forever, a star. Our Sultan has chosen, and we would see +him crown her.” +</p> + +<p> +Question and answer came like the repetition of some old formula. +</p> + +<p> +The high-priest’s voice again wailed through the temple. +</p> + +<p> +“The Sultan has chosen, and we would see him crown her.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a touch of menace in Mhaki’s voice that made one or two of +the dusky warriors glance at him sharply. But Lebrassa had eyes and +ears only for the girl within his arms. +</p> + +<p> +As the high-priest mounted higher, to bow before the Sultan and the +Star of his choice, holding the crown on its ebony salver, there was a +stir among the shrouded figures of the priests forming the circle +immediately in front of the warriors. +</p> + +<p> +When Lebrassa took the crown and placed it on Leslie’s head, a sort of +sigh passed through them, like an indrawn, hissing breath. Then it +died away, and all eyes were fixed on him as he stood proudly smiling +over her small head where golden stars now glittered. Over the murmur +of the seething crowd, above the crackle and roar of the bonfires, his +voice came, loud, arrogant, and all-commanding. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no greeting for my Queen?” +</p> + +<p> +Ten thousand voices answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“We are star-worshipers, we spawn of the night. In Kallu there is +always welcome for such as she.” +</p> + +<p> +As the volume of sound died away, from one corner came a solitary +burst of hyena’s laughter. Ten thousand took up the wild war cry. The +great hall trembled as the roar thundered through it. Long after +Lebrassa’s hand was raised for silence the sound came echoing up from +the darkness, to die away in a feeble, jeering laugh and a final +sobbing sigh. +</p> + +<p> +There was silence again, a silence that hissed and whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Then, once more, the high-priest spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“In Kallu there is always welcome for such as she. Red welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +It did not need the added phrase to bring Lebrassa’s eyes from Leslie +to the black face watching him in fanatical hatred. The menace of the +voice had reached him before the clause of Mhaki’s own adding. +</p> + +<p> +Before he had time to say or do anything, almost before the words had +left the high-priest’s lips, a hundred voices bellowed: +</p> + +<p> +“Traitor!” +</p> + +<p> +The word was one that raised all the wild beast in the Kalluians. Who +and what the traitor was no one knew, save fifty priests and the same +number of probationers attached to the temple. The word had come. It +raised the blood-lust of a crowd already excited almost beyond bounds. +A savage roar went up, demanding the name of the traitor, and his +death for daring to desecrate the Sultan’s nuptials with his presence. +</p> + +<p> +The mass surged up to Lebrassa as he stood with surprise, savage anger +and a glint of uneasiness on his face. +</p> + +<p> +They stopped at the foot of the throne, not aware the one they sought +was there, demanding that the Sultan should deliver this traitor into +their hands. Their sudden onward rush swallowed up the priests, who +went through the seething crowd whispering, insinuating, hinting. +</p> + +<p> +No name was said, only one sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“The daughter of the murderer is here.” +</p> + +<p> +In the writhing mist and smoke and darkness no one knew where the +words came from. They were whispered from the shadows, murmured out of +the blackness, echoed through the vaulted arches. From mouth to mouth +the words went. +</p> + +<p> +There were men among the soldiers who remembered an argument between +the Sultan and his cousin, Nanza, more than eighteen months before, in +a hut near Calabar, five hundred miles away: an argument concerning +the identity of two white women. They numbered only twenty-eight of +the warriors, but what they said was listened to and repeated again +and again, till ten thousand heard it. +</p> + +<p> +In less than a quarter of an hour what had been an orderly crowd was a +wild pandemonium. Question and answer were hurled out of the mist and +smoke and shadows. +</p> + +<p> +Then an ominous lull fell on the surging mass. The wild shouts died +down to thick, hoarse growls. All eyes were turned on Lebrassa. His +voice came thundering through the vast hall. +</p> + +<p> +“By all darkness! What madness has seized you?” +</p> + +<p> +He stood a picture of unbridled savagery and arrogance, enraged beyond +measure, conscious of Leslie’s heart thumping in wild terror beneath +his hand. He realized that some inkling of who she really was had +reached Kallu. He never doubted but what he could quell the riot. But +he did not know the extent and completeness of the evidence against +him. +</p> + +<p> +As yet no one had set foot on the Throne of Night. Lebrassa’s voice +and attitude held those immediately beneath in check. +</p> + +<p> +Over the growl of the multitude Mhaki’s voice answered, coming from +the crowd just below. +</p> + +<p> +“What madness has seized <i>you</i>, Essel, Sultan of Kallu, that you would +set the daughter of your mother’s murderer on the Throne of Night? A +gift of the Sultan to his people. A gift you promised full twenty +years ago. But a gift of vengeance, of blood, an offering to Doomana. +Not a star to shine as Queen of Kallu. There is a law which says, +‘Death to all traitors.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +No savage roar greeted the word now. The growl died away to a +whispering hiss. The multitude stood with strained ears, awaiting +their Sultan’s defense. +</p> + +<p> +“What madness has seized you in your dotage, Mhaki, that you accuse +<i>me</i>, your Sultan, of black treachery? Death to you that you should +dare to foul the name of the Star now shining over Kallu. Say, dogs, +do you stand quiet and hear your leader called a traitor? By Mhaki +who, with his own eyes, saw the daughter of the murderer die. Shot by +Cooper, her husband.” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s appeal to the soldiers had its effect. A roar greeted him. +With a wild rush the warriors swept toward the high-priest, who stood +surrounded by his supporters. It was just as well Mhaki had retired +beyond his master’s reach. After his accusations he had backed down +the steps of the throne and a surge of his friends and followers had +swallowed him up. Had he remained within the Sultan’s reach the royal +hand might have choked him. +</p> + +<p> +Until order was restored, Lebrassa dared not leave the high rock where +he was standing. He did not know what the mob might do to Leslie if +she were left alone. He did not think about his own danger. As once +before all his wits were concentrated on saving the girl he held +pressed close against him in fierce protection. He thought he could +keep the surging mass immediately beneath in check until the soldiers +cleared a way so that he could get her out of the temple and in some +place of safety. Then he would return and pacify the mob. +</p> + +<p> +As he watched, the oncoming soldiers wavered, hesitated, came on +uncertainly and then stopped altogether. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa had reckoned without the women who had been gathered in the +shadows beyond the lights. Chaos had brought them out among the men. A +fortnight of wild revelry had preceded the Sultan’s marriage. This had +given the hearts of the dusky warriors very much into the keeping of +their womenfolk. Black hands could cling and hinder and make their +power felt just as easily as white ones on men who were husbands, +sweethearts and would-be lovers. The women clustering around the +soldiers had fathers and brothers among the priests, and they had no +wish to see their relatives killed. They clung to the arms of the +soldiers, pleading and imploring, whispering that what Mhaki said +might be true, that love plays havoc with the hearts of men, and the +Sultan was but human, begging them to talk matters out quietly, to +have no bloodshed. And all the time the priests were talking, +whispering no longer, but declaring plainly that Nanza had returned +and had brought proof beyond all doubt of the Sultan Essel’s +treachery. +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers’ halt left Lebrassa aghast. Through the babel of sound +separate voices reached him. He heard how the news had come to Kallu +and who had brought it, and he realized how poor was his chance of +quelling the riot. +</p> + +<p> +There was but one way of saving Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced round calculatingly, knowing he could keep the mob in check +for a few moments, sufficiently long to carry out the plan of escape +that had come to him. +</p> + +<p> +But first he desired a personal interview with Mhaki—to get within +touch of the high-priest and silence that worthy for ever. But before +doing this, he wanted to have Leslie where she could not see him act +according to the instincts of his savage ancestors. +</p> + +<p> +He was a picture of sultanic fury as he stood thundering for the +silence he was gradually obtaining. +</p> + +<p> +Over the mad babel his voice was heard at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is the cur that heads this rabble? Let him come forward and prove +his statements. If what he says is true, then I have been deceived +about this girl I would make my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +At his words a listening silence fell on the horde. To Mhaki’s face +there came an expression of relief. But Nanza, disguised as one of the +shrouded temple probationers, shrank back into the shadows. +</p> + +<p> +Breathless silence reigned as the Sultan’s defense went on. +</p> + +<p> +“Mhaki saw the murderer’s daughter die. A woman who told me her father +was the man who slew Irena. And I thought then that she did not know +who I was. But if what Mhaki says is true, then she knew me, what my +motive was, and misled me purposely. For the woman whom I thought to +be the daughter of that foul murderer was smitten with a disease that +made her days numbered. Moreover, she had a friend whom she loved +beyond all else—the Star I would have set to shine over Kallu. If the +news my cousin Nanza has brought is true, then the woman who is dead +deceived me purposely, hoping to save her friend. If it can be proved +that Bhessu’s wife was not the child of the murderer, but it is her +friend whose blood is wanted, she who is with me now as my bride, say, +all Kallu, would there be anything but hatred in my heart, and a +desire to deal with her as her father dealt with my mother? I, also, +would know the truth. If all Mhaki says is fair and just, proof past +all doubting, no plot of his and Nanza’s, then there will be no love +in my heart for the Star, but hatred. And I will give her over to you +to do with as you please, and say I am a fool, I, the Sultan of Kallu, +to be so deceived by a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +The explanation sent the crowd surging over to Lebrassa’s side. +</p> + +<p> +Even the high-priest’s fanatical old heart was eased. The son of his +beloved Irena was no traitor after all! But a man deluded by a woman, +ensnared by the beauty of another as is ever the lot of man, not +knowing who and what she really was. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa watched the effect of his words on the crowd surging beneath +the rock where he stood alone with the girl he was endeavoring to +save. As he watched he made a gradual backward movement toward the +brooding shape that loomed behind him, so slowly that in the +flickering shadows it was hardly noticeable. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Mhaki reached the foot of the steps the mulatto touched some +point in the carved mass behind him, at the same time assuming a stiff +unnatural position as though both feet and one elbow were working for +some desired effect. There was a heavy stealthy noise as of a great +stone moving. Leslie felt herself being lowered with quick haste and a +voice whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear, little cousin, go straight on and I’ll join you.” +</p> + +<p> +By then the unsuspecting priest had reached the top of the steps. The +mulatto sprang forward, seized him in the grip of a madman, swung him +on high, then dashed him with all his giant strength down against the +black rock. +</p> + +<p> +The roar of ten thousand wild beasts greeted this action. But Mhaki +lay quite still, his sharp old brains bespattered about the Throne of +Night, the only person, besides Lebrassa, who knew how to open the +entrance to the Chamber of Musing, or who knew where, in the forest, +was the door of the secret way leading from it. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa turned to join Leslie, his idea being to take her on through +the passage, and out into the forest, trusting to his own great +strength, skill, cunning and savage lore to make his way through the +wilderness until he reached what would be a place of safety for her, +the first British outpost more than two hundred miles away. +</p> + +<p> +As he turned to open the rock again, which had swung to the moment his +hand left it, Nanza drew a revolver from beneath his cloak and fired +wildly. +</p> + +<p> +One shot reached home. Just as Lebrassa was about to move the rock +again and join Leslie in her temporary refuge, he reeled and fell, +lamed by a bullet through his ankle. He was up again almost at once, +but just too late. Before he could reach sanctuary fifty hands seized +him and dragged him down as he fought with the strength of Samson and +the fury of a mad elephant. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of everything there was a small orderly section in the mob. +The hands holding Lebrassa were mostly priestly ones; the probationers +formed a circle around him, keeping off the herd bellowing for his +life. +</p> + +<p> +Over the pandemonium Nanza’s voice came thundering. The fact of his +presence sent a further howl echoing through the vast hall—a howl of +welcome. A call for silence went round. Gradually the wild babel died +down and his voice was heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, all Kallu. The truth has come, and with it the death of a +Sultan. My cousin would have us think he knew not that the Star was +the daughter of Irena’s murderer. Are we fools to be beguiled by such +a tale? If what he said was true, why did he hide the girl, and then +kill the high-priest, Mhaki? He lied to you and killed Mhaki in order +to save himself and her, for only he and Mhaki knew that beyond lies a +secret passage leading to the heart of the forest. And only he and +Mhaki knew the secret that moves the stone. Does not all this prove +that he knew who and what the girl was, and that it was his intention +to defraud you of the blood that is your due?” +</p> + +<p> +This speech resulted in a further dash to reach Lebrassa who now lay, +bound and helpless, surrounded by a guard sufficiently strong to keep +the rabble at bay. +</p> + +<p> +Over their fury Nanza’s voice came again. +</p> + +<p> +“You would give him an easy death,” he cried. “Not one worthy of +Kallu. Let me ask him if he is willing to give the Star back into our +keeping, and we will deal with him according to his answer.” +</p> + +<p> +Nanza turned to his prostrate cousin. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Essel, the secret that moves Doomana, that I may enter and +bring back the Star to shine over Kallu. A gift from the Sultan to his +people.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. +</p> + +<p> +The mulatto’s eyes blazed back at his tormentor as he writhed in a +giant effort to burst his bonds and reach the one responsible for his +capture. He was in an agony of helplessness at the thought of Leslie +alone in the rock chamber, yet he knew that death by slow starvation +would be preferable to the one this mob would deal out to her if she +fell into their hands. +</p> + +<p> +“See, he will tell me nothing,” Nanza cried. “What shall we do? Shall +we persuade him?” +</p> + +<p> +There was order now, the order of a multitude all of one mind. +</p> + +<p> +The throne was cleared of all except Nanza, half a dozen priests and +the prisoner. Wild figures rushed round the circle, mending and poking +fires the happenings of the last hour had allowed to smolder +unattended. There must be light—light to show what was about to +happen. +</p> + +<p> +The fires blazed up on a mass of figures, all squatted on their +haunches, with the lurid light playing on their black, shining skins +and eyes that had an inward red gleam fixed on the square rock, high +above, where another fire gleamed. +</p> + +<p> +Through the waiting hall Nanza’s voice came, full of savagery and +hate. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us, my cousin, how to reach the Star set to shine over Kallu? We +would have her in our midst, this Light from the Skies.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a long pause, but no reply. +</p> + +<p> +The question came again, but it still met with no answer. +</p> + +<p> +At a gesture from Nanza, one of the priests drew a red hot bar of iron +from the fire. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later there was a faint hissing sound, and with it came the +smell of live flesh scorching. This was followed by a laugh, loud, +arrogant and defiant. Nanza’s voice came again. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Essel, son of my mother’s sister. Give us the Star. We are +anxious to welcome our Queen.” +</p> + +<p> +Again there was no response. And again there came that sickly, +scorching smell. +</p> + +<p> +Another laugh followed, but it died away in a stifled groan. +</p> + +<p> +A crowd sat and watched, but there was no laughter now, only the smell +of scorching flesh and a sort of suppressed panting. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch28"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>My king, to the last put trust in me.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Sultan Nanza was holding audience in the market-square. Three +days had passed since the deposing of his cousin. Down in the great +underground temple Lebrassa lay, recovering from the effects of that +night’s work. During the time that had gone by since that evening, +parties of soldiers had scoured the forest looking for the entrance to +the passage down which Mhaki had taken Nanza, but no trace of it could +be found. +</p> + +<p> +In the market-place Nanza stood, his ambition attained at last. For +now he was the Sultan of Kallu, no longer his cousin’s understudy and +deputy, and he was talking loudly of all that was going to happen now +he had the management of affairs. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden stir and shouting on the outskirts of the village, took the +attention of his audience. A woman had just emerged from a forest +track, a tall, handsome negress of travel-stained appearance—a woman +once very well known in the place. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing his sister the new sultan stood in open-mouthed +astonishment. Heedless of the questions and greetings showered on her, +Yoni came on and threw herself at her brother’s feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, Nanza,” she cried breathlessly. “You see my words of long ago +were true. The Sultan Essel had deceived us. That traitor who took me +from my country and then cast me off with mockery and scorn. Give me +vengeance. Let me see him die. Don’t tell me you have already killed +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Savagely Nanza laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“No traitor dies in three days,” he said. In a suspicious manner his +eyes remained on his sister. “How is it you’re here only a few days +after me?” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“I followed you, purposely, hoping that if you found favor in the +sight of our cousin you would plead with him for me. A week ago I +reached a village, and there one whispered to me the news you had +brought from England, of the Sultan Essel’s treachery, of a Star that +was no Star. I ask no greater boon than to see him as he lies in +agony, that in his hour of suffering I may mock at him as he once +mocked at me. Grant this, O Nanza, my brother and Sultan, to a woman +full of hate and suffering.” +</p> + +<p> +As she talked, suspicion died from his eyes, and her final sentence +brought a tigerish smile to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Our cousin lies in the temple. A free show to all, and a warning to +those who would be traitors.” +</p> + +<p> +Yoni rose to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd’s gaze was upon her. They all noted her blazing, fanatical +eyes and air of savage hate. She was another who had no love for the +deposed Sultan! +</p> + +<p> +This was the opinion of the priests some ten minutes later when Yoni +halted at the head of the passage leading down to the temple, in her +brother’s name, demanding admittance. +</p> + +<p> +She passed through and went on to the head of the long flight of +steps. +</p> + +<p> +In the darkness below a fire gleamed. The light showed a man lying on +a rude native couch. Beside him squatted a score of priests. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s face was very English now. Pain had drawn his features; +they had lost their heavy look, but his eyes still showed the negro +taint that nothing could take away. +</p> + +<p> +As the priests half-dozed on the throne by the royal prisoner, a wild +voice from the back made them look round sharply. A woman was bearing +down on them, with arms uplifted, wild-eyed, and face distorted with +hate and passion. +</p> + +<p> +In front of the priestly barrier she paused, glaring at the man they +were guarding, shrieking out a volume of abuse. The flood of +vituperation brought Lebrassa’s attention to her. +</p> + +<p> +He watched her, surprised that his treachery to Kallu should have +roused her hatred, when the breaking off of the life they had once led +together had failed to do so. +</p> + +<p> +“And you too, Yoni,” he said presently, with a dreary smile. +</p> + +<p> +Her voice died down to a long-drawn, hissing breath and a splutter +after speech, yet through it words reached Lebrassa that made his +scorched hands clench. What seemed to the priests nothing more than +the frantic gurgle of a woman choked with anger, reached him in the +dialect of Calabar: a language unknown to any one there except himself +and Yoni. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord knows his slave is faithful,” he heard her say. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni raised her voice again, raving, shouting and vituperating, down +to a gurgling, breathless splutter. +</p> + +<p> +“I came to give warning, but too late. To save my lord I would give my +life,” reached Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +She made a mad rush at the priests standing between her and the couch, +as if to get at the deposed sultan and work her will upon him. They +held her back, as she fought them wildly, their attention being +temporarily removed from the prisoner. But through her struggles +Yoni’s ears were strained for any word that might come from Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +“More than life lies beyond the Shadow of Doomana, Yoni,” he was +saying. “You cannot save me, but save the Star, and my death will be +happy in spite of the tortures they deal out to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Again her voice was raised in a storm of wild abuse, to die away in a +sob of fury and frantic gasps. Between them came protestations that +her desire was to save <i>him</i>, not the girl who had brought him to his +end. +</p> + +<p> +There was a further struggle between the priests and the distraught +woman endeavoring to reach the prisoner. Sobs of fury came, and +through them Yoni spluttered: +</p> + +<p> +“I am but a slave to obey. A trance will come over me. I will fall +here and none will dare touch me. Pretend to sleep, then mutter all +you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she stopped her wild struggles. She stood, stiff and frothing +at the mouth. Then like a log she fell unconscious not two yards from +where Lebrassa lay. +</p> + +<p> +The priests gazed at her with awe. In past days she had been one of +their kind, a priestess of the temple, but she had been expelled +through love of the man she now hated. They sat round, watching her +with interest, waiting until she came back to consciousness, wondering +what she would say. For they thought her trance an audience with the +gods. +</p> + +<p> +On the couch the prisoner dozed uneasily, muttering whilst he slept. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden howl from Yoni startled the priests. She staggered to her +feet, swaying weakly, staring unseeingly into darkness. All waited to +hear the words the gods had put into her mouth during the hour or so +she had been with them. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Yoni, Keeper of the Stars. Night gives me many eyes and I see. +There is one coming whose arrival brings the darkness and the dawn.” +</p> + +<p> +Long after she had vanished, swallowed up in the depths of the temple, +the priests sat and talked over the meaning of the message. +</p> + +<p> +But Lebrassa lay gazing patiently into darkness. To him the words +needed no interpreting. +</p> + +<p> +For Leslie’s sake he had betrayed Kallu. He had told Yoni to go to +Tuata, to bring up Captain Fletcher and a relieving force. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch29"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>The blackness of darkness.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As</span> the great mass of rock swung back into position Leslie stood for +a few moments conscious of a queer, dizzy feeling, glad of the +quietness after the wild uproar she had left, wondering what had +caused it. Then she went on in the darkness, groping her way along the +rocky wall. An abrupt turn in the passage showed a faint light ahead. +She went forward quickly, to find herself in a cave, faintly lighted +by a lamp set on a table in one corner of it. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced around. It was a large, high vault with a little spring +oozing from a crevice at her feet, and another opening opposite the +one by which she had entered, blocked by a heavy wooden door. The cave +was empty but for the one corner whence the light came, which was +fitted up as a chamber. There lay a suit of white drill. In that +secret room behind the throne of rock, barely half an hour before, +Lebrassa had put on the barbaric robes for the heathen wedding +ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +Crossing to the lounge, Leslie seated herself there, watching the +passage by which she had entered, thinking it all part of the wild +rites that made her her cousin’s wife, almost sick with dread at the +thought of the man who soon would be coming along the passage, in +terror not noticing how the time was passing. +</p> + +<p> +The splutter of the dying lamp roused her. Fear of one darkness made +her forget the other. Getting up quickly, she went to the slit, and +stood there listening for some sound of her cousin’s coming. She heard +nothing except the faint lapping of the spring. In an excess of terror +and loneliness she crossed swiftly to the door, very conscious of the +wild, moving shapes the lamp cast, thinking he might be coming that +way. But, much as she tried, it was beyond her strength to open it. +</p> + +<p> +Fearing the light would die away before she reached it, she ran back +to the table and stood watching the flickering lamp. It gave a final +upward flare of long flames, smoke and sparks, then died down to a +glowing, smoldering wick. Breathlessly she watched the point of red. +Then it faded, leaving her alone in utter darkness. +</p> + +<p> +How long she stood with her eyes on the spot where it had been, she +did not know. But it was until her legs gave way beneath her. Then she +sank down on the lounge, and stayed there trying to hear something +besides the gurgle of the spring. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she got to her feet, her only desire now to reach the way by +which she had entered. +</p> + +<p> +On finding the slit she went up it blindly, with outstretched arms, +until the solid rock stopped her. +</p> + +<p> +“Essel! Essel!” she called wildly. “Don’t leave me here all alone.” +</p> + +<p> +A sense of being buried alive seized her. With desperate hands she +beat on the unresisting rock. Dull echoes answered. +</p> + +<p> +She stopped, waiting until the gruesome sounds died away. Then she +crept back to the lounge, trying to realize what it all meant and why +her cousin had not come as he had said. +</p> + +<p> +Then, presently, out of sheer fatigue, she slept. +</p> + +<p> +She awoke with a stiff, cramped feeling, wondering where she was and +why it was so dark. With a sudden flood came the recollection of all +that had happened before sleep brought oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +Louder than the gurgle of the spring, came her own heart-beats. A long +shudder ran through her as she realized something must have happened +or her cousin would not have left her so long in darkness. A wild wish +to scream aloud, to make some human sound come out of the blackness, +seized her. With an effort she repressed the feeling, conscious only +of the chill, sickly fear that had her in its grip. +</p> + +<p> +Then she rose and went groping for the passage, stumbling over rocks, +heedless of the pool she splashed into, her only desire to reach the +way by which she had entered. Then she threw herself face downwards on +the ground in an effort to shut out the all-enveloping darkness. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a vista of constant terrifying night. +</p> + +<p> +Then forgetfulness came again. From this she awoke, dazed and +blinding, in unaccustomed light that made her eyes ache. +</p> + +<p> +A black face was bending over her, a woman’s face, vaguely familiar, +watching her in an anxious but unfriendly manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you come to fetch me?” Leslie asked feebly. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni made no reply. She knew what the girl said. During the months the +negress had spent trading on the steamers she had picked up a +smattering of English. Turning toward the table, she began unwrapping +the voluminous blue cloth that swathed her, bringing to light a number +of parcels tied on to her person. They proved to be a quantity of hard +biscuits, plantains, oranges and nuts, a bundle of candles and a +couple of boxes of matches—supplies such as any native woman in an +up-country African village would have bought for household stores. +</p> + +<p> +In a dazed manner Leslie watched the silent woman, wondering if she +were dreaming. She hardly dared speak lest this apparition should fade +and leave her in total blackness again. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Mr. Lebrassa?” she ventured at length. +</p> + +<p> +The name brought Yoni’s eyes to her—black, suffering eyes full of +hate and jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“He say you lib for here tree week,” she answered in broken English. +</p> + +<p> +Her reply left Leslie aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t. I can’t stay here any longer. I shall go mad,” Leslie +cried hysterically. +</p> + +<p> +“He say you mus’ lib for here till Cap’en Fletcher come.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie stared back at her, too weak to grasp the meaning of what was +said. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Mr. Lebrassa I can’t stay here. Why doesn’t he come?” she +finished wildly. +</p> + +<p> +“He no can come. He say I mus’ no say why.” +</p> + +<p> +With the feeling of some nightmare on her, Leslie watched the silent +figure that stolidly continued unpacking the parcels. +</p> + +<p> +All at once Yoni faced the girl, looking at her in a wild, jealous +way. +</p> + +<p> +“He say I no mus’ say. But I say. He tink only ob you. You—who hab +lose him everyting.” +</p> + +<p> +There came a flood of wild words in broken English. As Leslie +deciphered their meaning, it left her frozen. +</p> + +<p> +They told of all Lebrassa was suffering, and for what reason; of the +weeks of agony that lay before him; of how Yoni had reached him; of +the secret of the whereabouts of the forest entrance to the rocky +chamber which he had entrusted into her keeping; of the provisions she +was to bring before starting to Tuata, over two hundred miles away to +bring up the British force which meant Leslie’s rescue and the +downfall of Kallu. +</p> + +<p> +“An’ I hate you, you white gel!” Yoni’s frantic, sobbing voice +finished. “An’ I kill you, but dat I no can sabe him, an’ he wan’ see +you ’fore he die.” +</p> + +<p> +Petrified Leslie listened. The hopeless tragedy was more than she +could bear. Just as surely as her father had stolen her cousin’s +English birthright, so she, unwittingly, had deprived him of his +African heritage and brought him to this ghastly end. All the aversion +and dread she had felt were lost in a flood of pity, so great that it +was almost love. +</p> + +<p> +She got up, looking with desperate eyes at Yoni’s dark, distorted +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Take me to Mr. Lebrassa at once,” she commanded. +</p> + +<p> +The negress stopped sobbing and gazed at her with curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“You no lub him, an’ you wan’ go an’ sabe him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t have him tortured because of me.” +</p> + +<p> +Yoni pushed her back on the lounge. +</p> + +<p> +“No good now. Dey kill him all same. An’ you, de one he wan’ sabe. He +say you write note to Cap’en Fletcher, so dat white mans see I say +true.” +</p> + +<p> +Yoni plunged into a big calico pocket that was tied round her waist +and produced a stump of lead pencil. With trembling fingers Leslie +took it and looked round for something to write on. +</p> + +<p> +The candle Yoni had fixed on the table by means of a drop of grease +showed a strange picture. A big, gloomy cavern full of groping +shadows, and, in one corner of it, a worn, white girl sat scribbling a +frantic message on a piece of soiled paper that had been round one of +the packages. The light flashed on slim, gem-laden fingers that wrote +with desperate pleading, begging her distant countryman to come and +save a man whose head had had a price on it for the last seventeen +years; it played on the rainbow mass of jewels gleaming on her slender +bare arms and shoulders, and on the golden stars strewn about the +gauzy, billowing robe she wore. The light showed, too, a black woman +standing half-naked, silent as a statue, her coarse blue cloth +trailing on the ground, with eyes full of jealousy, hatred and +suffering fixed on the frail, ethereal beauty beside her. +</p> + +<p> +When the note was finished Leslie rose, determined to make another +effort to save Lebrassa from further suffering. +</p> + +<p> +“You must let me out. Perhaps they won’t torture him if they have me.” +</p> + +<p> +Savagely Yoni laughed, in a way strangely reminiscent of her brother. +</p> + +<p> +“If dat sabe him, you no be here now. I tell hem fetch you so soon I +know how get here. I take you now, but I know it hurt de Sultan more +see you hurt dan all dey hurt him. Dere is only to do what he say. You +here. He dere—hoping dat de white mans come ’fore he die, an’ he know +you safe. It all you—you—you!” +</p> + +<p> +Dazed and stunned Leslie stood conscious of the truth of all Yoni +said, aghast at her own helplessness. There was nothing to do but +wait, knowing a man was being tortured to death on her account. The +fact left her sick and shivering. And above all was the knowledge that +her cousin had tried to keep this last horror from her. +</p> + +<p> +In an ecstasy of pity and helplessness she touched Yoni’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there nothing I can do?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Roughly the negress shook off that small, anxious, white hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You can do what he say. No more.” +</p> + +<p> +Yoni took the candle from the table and made for the wooden door by +which she had entered, and started wrestling with the catch. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie followed her. In what the woman had said, the girl had +forgotten her own weeks of imprisonment and dire loneliness. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you do so much for the Sultan?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Yoni ceased her struggles with the door. Turning, she +scanned Leslie from head to foot, a glance that showed all the hatred +she felt for the one responsible for her god’s suffering and downfall. +</p> + +<p> +“For de reason he do so much for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned her back on Leslie and re-attacked the door. Presently +it gave way under her efforts. Without a word she went out, banging it +behind her almost before Leslie had realized what was happening. +</p> + +<p> +She flew to the door, trying to reach Yoni, still hoping that if she +gave herself up her cousin’s torments might cease, but as she got +there she heard a heavy bar slipped into position. She pulled and +banged at the door, but her efforts brought no response from the woman +outside. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, worn out with her three days of starvation, she groped her +way back to the table and felt round for candle and matches. +</p> + +<p> +There were only a dozen candles and these would have to last her for +three weeks at least. But although light was so precious, she could +not sit in darkness alone with her thoughts. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch30"> +CHAPTER XXX +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>Though the gifts of the light in the end are curses,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet bides the gift of the darkness—sleep!</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">All</span> day long war drums had been sending their wild tattoo echoing +through the forest. Savage figures flitted to and fro among the ruins +of ancient Kallu. War-palaver was being held in the market-square, +attended by an array of warriors, blood-stained and bandaged, hardly +one of them whole. +</p> + +<p> +Kallu was learning that the Sultan Nanza was not the leader the Sultan +Essel had been. +</p> + +<p> +Away in the forest, now not more than thirty miles distant, a thin +line of khaki and black, led by a trio of Englishmen, was pushing its +way onwards, and no effort of the Kalluians could dislodge or turn it +from its course. +</p> + +<p> +When the first news of the coming expedition had been brought, Kallu +had set out, a thousand strong, to annihilate the hurried advancing +towards them. There had been attacks by day and by night, every one a +failure. There were ambushes set, but every hiding place on the route +appeared to be known to the advancing force, and the Kalluians found +themselves attacked by a foe they had hoped to surprise. +</p> + +<p> +A sullen crowd scowled at Nanza as he stood arranging the next move. +There was no getting away from the fact that they were beaten, and the +fall of Kallu was only a matter of a few hours. The warriors had lost +faith in their leader. He was brave, but courage was of little use +when machine guns came into play, and his skill in warfare was crude +negro cunning; he had none of the finesse and strategy his cousin had +inherited from a long line of English ancestors, most of them famous +soldiers. In the Sultan Essel’s day they had fought in many parts of +West Africa, and their portion of the campaign had been always +successful. Now, to be defeated, routed day after day, by a force only +a fraction of their original number, took the heart out of them, and +left them with no desire to meet the advancing foe face to face. +</p> + +<p> +More than three weeks had passed since Yoni had started down to Tuata. +</p> + +<p> +The news she had brought, and the frantic note from Leslie delivered +with it, had resulted in the whole garrison being sent up, for +Fletcher knew enough of the Hyena’s following to guess they would +prove no easy foe, even when deprived of their half-caste leader. +</p> + +<p> +Always when the expedition halted for its few hours’ nightly rest, +Fletcher would bring out Leslie’s imploring letter. In it was no +mention of that brief moment of exquisite agony when her small, white +face had been so close to his and her soft lips had tried to kiss the +pain out of his eyes. Nothing of the confession of love that tragic +parting had brought. It was a wild cry, begging him to come and save +the man he had been trying to catch for years. +</p> + +<p> +And it left him with the feeling that had assailed him once before, at +the Harrogate hotel, on the occasion of his first round with Lebrassa +over Leslie, when the mulatto had succeeded in converting his dinner +invitation into consideration for her only. Now, in his end, ghastly +as it was, the same thought and consideration were there, and the +volume of it appeared to have driven from Leslie’s mind the knowledge +of all else. +</p> + +<p> +The wild, imploring note was in Fletcher’s hand, as he sat camped only +ten miles from Kallu, wondering what the morrow would show him; +whether Lebrassa would have withstood the tortures put upon him and +kept the secret of Leslie’s hiding place, or whether he would have +come too late to do more than stamp out this nest of hornets. +</p> + +<p> +The blackness of night was growing faintly red when the little British +force started on the last ten miles of its journey. The sun was up +long before the first glimpse of the ruins came into view. The piles +of masonry and tangled curtains of creeper offered excellent cover for +the enemy. Every moment Fletcher expected an attack, not knowing Kallu +had struck its last blow. +</p> + +<p> +The little column marched on, and came out into the blaze of sunshine +flooding the market-square. Everything there was quiet and peaceful; +thin spirals of faint, gray smoke curled up from fires outside the mud +huts clinging to the palace walls. Around them stood a crowd of women +and children, sullen and resentful, watching the intruders. But there +was no sign of a man of fighting age. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher knew what had happened—reverses had taken the heart out of +Kallu. He had seen these evacuations before, in several expeditions +against rebellious tribes, when the tide had gone against them. +</p> + +<p> +However, he was taking no risks. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his desire to reach Leslie, and Yoni dragging at his arm +and imploring him to come at once to the temple, he made a survey of +the place to satisfy himself its peaceful attitude was no trap. At the +head of the tunnel leading down to the temple he posted half his men. +Then, with a supply of torches, he took the remaining half in with +him. +</p> + +<p> +The long, dark corridor he and his party traversed sounded strangely +silent and deserted; only the booming echo of the steady tramp of feet +came out of the darkness confronting them. The array of torches showed +rock walls covered with signs and symbols beyond the knowledge of the +present age—the work of some night-worshipers who lived when the +world was dim. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher had no eyes for these. At the head of his men he marched +along, wondering what the unknown beyond would show him. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a flight of steps was reached, leading down to even darker +depths of silence. No glimmer of light came from it, no sound. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he stood staring into the pit. It seemed as if he had +come too late; that this great black void had swallowed up everything. +</p> + +<p> +Yoni’s hand, pulling his sleeve in desperate, anxious haste, roused +him. +</p> + +<p> +The party descended into the inky well. The torches showed only +further darkness. They marched on until the columns of a great arch +loomed up in the feeble light. +</p> + +<p> +A cry from Yoni brought Fletcher’s gaze to something lying at the foot +of the wide stone steps leading up to the Throne. Something that had +once been a man. Now a mass of festering sores and stumps, forgotten +in the fighting that had taken his torturers from Kallu, left alone in +darkness to die. Something once so strong that even death had been +conquered by it, for the great bare chest, scarred and burnt till the +ribs showed through, still moved with a flicker of life. +</p> + +<p> +With a wail of agony Yoni sank beside Lebrassa. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher knelt beside his old enemy, marveling that a man could endure +so much and still be alive. Opening his flask, he coaxed a draught of +weak whiskey and water between Lebrassa’s parched lips. Tortured eyes +opened, then closed again as if the light were too much for them; +opened again, and rested unbelievingly on the Englishman’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Fletcher!” came out in a faint gasp. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher had no love for the man he was tending. There had been a time +when he had thought the worst death earth could inflict would be too +good for him. But now his end had come, the cause that had brought him +to it seemed to have wiped away the mass of villainy at his door. +</p> + +<p> +The idea made Fletcher do the most difficult, and perhaps the most +noble, deed of his life. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Graham wrote to me, asking me to come and save you. There was no +thought of anything but you in her letter—you and what you were +suffering on her account.” +</p> + +<p> +His words made a shadow of the old arrogance cross Lebrassa’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“That woman must have told her. I wanted to keep it from her.” Then he +laughed, a laugh pathetic in its feebleness. “Leslie asked <i>you</i> to +save <i>me</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa’s eyes closed weakly. Then he spoke again, in a querulous, +hopeless, wandering way. +</p> + +<p> +“Take me out of this black hell. I want light and whiteness and +roses.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s next draught brought his wandering mind back to the +present. His eyes opened and rested on his captor’s face in an +anxious, pleading manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Those devils have left me no sight for a girl’s eyes. I’d like to +look something like a man in case she should want to see me.” +</p> + +<p> +Even now, in spite of all he had endured for Leslie’s sake, there was +the anxious doubt that the return of her own sort and color might take +her thoughts from him and bring back all the old antipathy. +</p> + +<p> +Despite his desire to reach Leslie, the wistful pleading in that +faint, tortured voice made Fletcher comply with the request before +going further. Turning to a <i>Hausa</i> sergeant, he gave an order for an +impromptu stretcher to be made. Whilst Lebrassa was being lifted +carefully on it, he scribbled a note to the doctor of the expedition, +telling him to do his best for the dying man. +</p> + +<p> +When this was done, in a feeble, gasping voice Lebrassa told him the +secret that opened the Shadow. +</p> + +<p> +In a fever of anxiety Fletcher went up the wide stone steps of the +throne and crossed to the rock where the brooding Shape loomed. Slowly +and carefully he followed out the complicated instructions Lebrassa +had given. Presently an oblong hole appeared in the banked cloud. It +revealed nothing but darkness, no sign or sound of the one entombed +within. +</p> + +<p> +Telling his men to hold the rock back, he lowered himself into the +gaping hole. Then he took a torch from one of them and went along the +empty passage. +</p> + +<p> +The noise of his heavy military boots went echoing down the long, +rough, rock alley, booming into the cave beyond with the sound of +distant thunder. It made the girl sitting there in darkness, start up +with wildly beating heart, not knowing whether it was relief at last, +or whether the man suffering outside had been unable to endure more, +and had told her whereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher came out of the slit with the growing fear that the horror +and loneliness had proved beyond the girl’s strength. +</p> + +<p> +Anxiously he stood gazing round the great cave, for the light of his +torch was not sufficient to pierce its far, gloomy corners. Out of the +darkness something seemed to float towards him; a wraith of a girl in +crumpled purple gauze where golden stars flashed. She was so +transparent and ethereal that for a moment he thought she was some +conception of his own mind come to haunt his waking hours as her ghost +did his dreams. +</p> + +<p> +Then dropping his torch he rushed forward and drew her into his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling!” he cried, falling on his knees before her. +</p> + +<p> +Small hands, so thin and white, were on his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he—still alive?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s question sent a chill through her lover. In the end it seemed +that Lebrassa was victor, that he had succeeded in stealing her love. +The idea left Fletcher tongue-tied and clumsy, and choked back the +flood of tender words on his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s still alive,” he said huskily. +</p> + +<p> +“Is… is he much hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +He knew she had no idea of the tortures savages were capable of +inflicting. He knew also that Lebrassa’s end was only a matter of a +few days, hours even, that his desire to see the girl for whose sake +he had suffered so much had helped to keep life in him. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid he won’t recover.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall have killed him!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, darling, his own wild schemings brought him to his end.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s my cousin,” Leslie said brokenly. “And something my… father did +made him do all those dreadful things.” +</p> + +<p> +This was no news to Fletcher. The bare fact had come into Leslie’s +wild, imploring note, and it had left him wondering what the true +story was. +</p> + +<p> +“So you told me, little one,” he said tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you would never come,” she said wildly. “I’ve waited so +long, all the time knowing they were torturing him. Perhaps I’m only +dreaming now, and I shall wake up in the dark again, thinking he’s +still being hurt.” +</p> + +<p> +Tenderly Fletcher drew her fragile little form closer. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you a word of welcome for me, darling?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was too weak and dazed to realize anything except that relief +had come at last, and her only desire was to see the man who for her +sake had suffered so much. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t think of anything but my cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher’s arms dropped from the slender waist they encircled. It +seemed to him they had no place there; that he was usurping a dying +man’s privilege. +</p> + +<p> +Instinct must have told Leslie that his heart was stricken. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be hurt and angry, dear,” she pleaded. “I must do all I can to +make my cousin’s end happy. Don’t you see, he’s not a nigger to me +now. He’s my cousin. My brave, dear cousin. The cousin my… father +mortally injured.” +</p> + +<p> +Getting to his feet, Fletcher picked up the torch. As he did so, +drearily he wondered why the mulatto always succeeded in +out-maneuvering him where the girl they both loved was concerned. +</p> + +<p> +To Leslie the journey back to daylight was a blurred vista of +sensations. She was aware of a bigger flare of light as Fletcher +lifted her out through the hole and onto the rock throne. There was +the vast hall to cross, a walk that made her realize how weak she was. +Steps were reached, a breathless climb. Then a long corridor, like an +endless black tube, with a faint speck of light at the end, that grew +bigger and brighter as she stumbled on, until it almost blinded her. +</p> + +<p> +Well within the screening shadow of the tunnel, where the light did +not come so strongly, Fletcher came to a halt. He gave an order to a +<i>Hausa</i> sergeant to fetch a hammock to carry Leslie to the palace. +Then he drew out a handkerchief and folded it thickly so as to bind +her eyes when she crossed the sunlit square. +</p> + +<p> +As they stood there waiting, Lieutenant Vincent came and spoke to her, +telling her that Lebrassa was a hero and a gentleman, that the doctor +was doing his best for him. +</p> + +<p> +He said a great deal more but that was all Leslie grasped. In a dazed +way she listened as he went on talking, glad some one was saying a +good word for her cousin. +</p> + +<p> +When the hammock came, Fletcher bound her eyes and carried her into +it. Then the screening cloth was taken off, she was in the green, +shady garden within the palace walls. +</p> + +<p> +The big arch leading into the courtyard was reached at last, then the +fretted, columned windows opening into the sitting-room that had once +been hers. +</p> + +<p> +The moment the bearers stopped Leslie slipped from the litter. She +went on blindly, with eyes only for a man on a low couch set between +the portraits of the two who were responsible for his being. +</p> + +<p> +She did not realize the extent of her cousin’s injuries, for his +persecutors had left his face untouched, and a coverlet screened the +rest from her sight. But there was no mistaking the suffering in the +tainted eyes watching so eagerly for her coming. +</p> + +<p> +With a little cry she crossed and knelt beside him, flooding his worn +face with her tears. The soft shower eased his look of pain and +anguish and took the wistful anxiety from his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“The tears are not for me, are they, little rose?” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“You should have told them where I was. You shouldn’t have let them +hurt you,” she sobbed, as she smoothed back his crisp, wavy hair—now +more white than black—in an ecstasy of loving pity. +</p> + +<p> +“A life in hell makes one oblivious to pain, little cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should have spoken! You should have spoken! You shouldn’t have +let them torture you because of me.” +</p> + +<p> +In a weak, pleased, tender manner Lebrassa laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no pain now, little rose, only sweetness.” +</p> + +<p> +The depth of love and suffering in his voice was more than Leslie +could bear. +</p> + +<p> +Her head sank on the coverlet and stayed there in an agony of +suppressed weeping. A mangled limb that had been bandaged back to some +semblance of an arm came out from beneath the screening coverlet, and +was put around her with a vestige of its old fierce protection. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t cry, dearest,” he whispered. “I’ve got a better end than +I deserve.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t die, Essel. You mustn’t. I want you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d go through any hell, Leslie, to come out finding you weeping over +me, <i>wanting me!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Then his faint, tired voice stopped. Happiness seemed to have taken +away his last remaining mite of strength. He lay just watching the +girl who knelt beside him, smoothing his grizzled hair and touching +his haggard face with gentle, caressing fingers, a touch that took all +pain from his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor’s entry roused them. Coming to the couch, he stood looking +at Lebrassa, wondering how much he would endure for the sake of the +girl with him, knowing what pain the moving of that encircling arm +must have caused. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have to send you away now, Miss Graham,” he said in a kindly +manner. “I haven’t quite finished making your cousin comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +The mere suggestion of her leaving him made Lebrassa’s arm tighten +round the girl. +</p> + +<p> +His action brought a tearful smile to Leslie’s lips. All was weakness +and suffering where once there had been such strength and power. She +did not draw back from that feeble hold, instead even more tenderly +she smoothed his worn face. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go, Essel dear,” she whispered. “I’ll come back the moment the +doctor will let me.” +</p> + +<p> +With a touch of savage jealousy he held her tighter, kissing her +caressing hands passionately. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no one but me now, is there, little angel? In spite of the +blackness,” he asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No one,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +She bent over him until the cloud of her hair screened from his sight +everything but herself. Gently she smoothed his worn face, and he +gazed at her in worship and adoration, whispering all the wild love +that, up to now, the knowledge of her aversion and dread of him had +kept stifled. +</p> + +<p> +When Leslie returned to his bedside she was no sultan’s bride, but a +little English girl in a straight, short-sleeved muslin frock with +hair done in tight coils round her ears. All afternoon she stayed +beside him, fanning him gently, for the breathless, tropical heat had +taken all but the faintest spark of life from him, and that was in the +tainted eyes that never left her face. +</p> + +<p> +The dim, shaded room was all peace and quiet, the silence broken only +by the girl’s slight movements, the occasional gentle murmur of her +voice and the tramp of the sentry on duty outside—the only thing that +said Lebrassa was a prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +For nearly a week he lingered, patient, quiet and happy, with Leslie +his nurse by day and Yoni taking night duty. +</p> + +<p> +There came a time when he was a little exacting with Leslie, anxious +she should stay with him all morning instead of going for her usual +half hour walk in the garden as he had always insisted, peevish if she +left him even for a moment. He was irritable with Yoni, not wanting +her near him; angry if any of the Englishmen came into the room, +holding Leslie in a weak yet savage, jealous way, if they spoke to +her. +</p> + +<p> +All morning he lay watching his cousin, refusing everything but the +sips of water she coaxed between his lips. But when lunch-time came he +asked her to go and have her meal in some cool spot in the garden, as +an excuse saying she had been tied to the room all morning and that +now he felt like sleeping a little. +</p> + +<p> +But once she was out of sight, he asked if he might see his captor. +</p> + +<p> +The request surprised Fletcher. Generally Lebrassa ignored him, if he +chanced to come in the room, granting him neither look nor word. The +message was from a dying man so Fletcher went, wondering why his +prisoner should suddenly ask for him. +</p> + +<p> +On approaching the couch, Lebrassa’s gaze met his in a pleading, +anxious manner. Then he looked at the doctor who usually sat in the +room. +</p> + +<p> +“Could we be quite alone, Captain Fletcher?” he asked faintly. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher glanced toward his medical officer. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take a turn with the patient, if you’d like to get along for +lunch now.” +</p> + +<p> +Once the doctor was out of earshot, Lebrassa spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“You love my cousin, Captain Fletcher?” +</p> + +<p> +From such a source the captain once would have resented this question. +Even now it rubbed him on the raw, but remembering the cause for which +his rival was dying he answered from his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I loved Miss Graham from the first moment I saw her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie loves you, too, though she tries to hide it from me,” Lebrassa +replied. “But in her generous, unselfish way she has given me one week +in heaven, and for that I’m grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +As if getting his words together Lebrassa paused. +</p> + +<p> +“My cousin is penniless,” he continued a moment later. “She can’t +prove her claim to anything that was once my father’s. As an indemnity +your government will seize all I own out here, so it’s no use for me +to make a will in her favor.” +</p> + +<p> +Realizing the truth of these statements, Fletcher said nothing. He had +decided what Leslie’s future was to be. That she was penniless did not +trouble him at all; he had a comfortable income apart from his pay. +But he still wondered what the interview was leading up to. +</p> + +<p> +“I want Leslie to be happy,” that weak, gasping voice continued. “And +she can’t be with the weight of her father’s sins upon her. And +because of them, she won’t marry you either.” +</p> + +<p> +This fact Fletcher had not grasped. Now it made him listen eagerly to +what the dying man was saying. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t bear to think of her missing happiness because of her father. +Because of his sins going through life feeling a leper. I know that +feeling only too well. And I won’t have Leslie suffer in the way I +have.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher saw his own paradise retreating, and the fact stunned him. +</p> + +<p> +“But what can you do?” he asked rather helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +His question brought a slight smile to Lebrassa’s drawn lips. +</p> + +<p> +“In strategy and finesse I’ve always been the better man of the two,” +he remarked. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher knew the Sultan was referring to their many rounds in past +days, when he had always proved himself more than a match for the +Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to tell my cousin another story,” Lebrassa went on. “And +<i>you</i> must uphold my second confession. Now listen carefully.” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher stooped over the bed to miss no word of that faint, gasping +speech. With heads close together they stayed talking, two men, once +mortal enemies, now brought together as friends in defense of the girl +they both loved. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s going back on a brave man,” Fletcher protested when Lebrassa +had finished. +</p> + +<p> +“Better to go back on a ‘brave man’ as you please to call me, than +leave an innocent, honorable girl suffering for the rest of her life. +And you’ll be the braver man, Captain Fletcher, for you’ll have to +tell lies and stick to them, knowing that by cheating you’ll win the +prize.” +</p> + +<p> +To Fletcher it seemed no sacrifice could be greater than the one his +old enemy was prepared to make for the sake of the girl they both +loved. +</p> + +<p> +“You will back me up,” Lebrassa pleaded. +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher was past speaking; he just nodded. +</p> + +<p> +A bandaged arm made a movement in his direction, as if to shake hands +on their bargain. Then Lebrassa seemed to recollect what he was and +the mutilated limb was drawn back. Slight as the gesture was, Fletcher +saw it and he put his own hand carefully on the stump where his +enemy’s hand had once been. +</p> + +<p> +When Leslie returned to her vigil by her cousin’s couch there was no +sign of Fletcher. Nor did the doctor who was sitting in the room make +any mention of his visit. +</p> + +<p> +The long, hot, trying afternoon dragged on. It left Lebrassa lying +with closed eyes, that opened only to smile when she touched him +caressingly. But the coolness of evening brought a little life to him. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time he stayed watching her in an anxious, hungry, jealous +way. Then a whisper brought her bending over him. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something I want to tell you, Leslie. Something that will +take all your love away from me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, dear?” she asked. “What do you want to tell me now?” +</p> + +<p> +The whole of his nightmare life, black, white and red, had been poured +out before her during the past few days. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s about you, dearest,” he whispered, in a hesitating manner, as if +afraid of what the result of his confession would be. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m listening, Essel,” she said, patting his hollow face tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s what I once told you about your father. It wasn’t true. Not a +word of it, except that I am your cousin, but not legally. My father +married my mother by heathen rites only. Think of it, Leslie, would +such a thing as a legal marriage be likely? My father was the +reprobate, not yours. He was a just and honorable man, even to me. +Accidentally I learned who my dead father was. I forged that letter +and went to my uncle, claiming to be the legal son of his elder +brother. He listened to me. Read my letter. Said if my story was true, +he would give me my title and estates, but I must first produce my +mother’s marriage certificate and my own birth certificate. She had +been dead long before I went to him, and I swore she had hidden the +proofs I wanted and that the secret of their hiding-place had died +with her.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief pause, then the weak voice went on, gradually +gaining force and power and conviction—a dying man’s effort to remove +a heritage of sin from a girl’s white conscience. +</p> + +<p> +“He came out to Kallu, to see how much of my wild story was true, and +spent a lot of time in trying to find out the truth. Then he +discovered it, and accused me of being the imposter I was. I tried to +terrorize him into giving me what was his, and acknowledge me as his +brother’s legal son. I said I’d have his life and the lives of his +wife and child if he did not give me my father’s title and estates. +Fear for them drove him from England. It was not true, anything I told +you that day you came to Kallu, Leslie. I said it to make you be kind +to me, so that you wouldn’t quite hate me, knowing it would be so easy +to deceive you, that I might get sympathy that way, if not love.” +</p> + +<p> +Stunned, Leslie listened. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment it seemed as though the burden of her father’s infamy had +slipped from her. Then other thoughts came that made her bend over her +cousin in an ecstasy of love and pity. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe you, Essel.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true. You must believe me,” he said with weak determination. “I +said it to make you like me. I’ve deceived everybody, so why not you, +the one I plotted and schemed and did murder to get? Why not you, the +little girl whose love I wanted, who always paid her debts so nobly? +Why not forge a debt to make you pay me back in the sympathy and +sweetness I couldn’t get otherwise?” +</p> + +<p> +There was conviction in the voice that had gathered strength for this +last effort at deception. But in Leslie’s mind were childish +recollections of a drunken, dissipated man who had habits and ways and +ideas that the light of advancing years had shown her were neither +just nor honorable. Above all was the knowledge of her cousin’s wild +love and depth of sacrifice for herself. +</p> + +<p> +She leaned over him, anxious these last few hours should be as happy +as she could make them. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, dear. If you deceived me, it was because you loved me.” +</p> + +<p> +Searchingly, he watched her. +</p> + +<p> +“You believe me, don’t you, little rose? I swear it on my dying oath.” +</p> + +<p> +She took his anxious, watching face between her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you, Essel, but it doesn’t make any difference now. You’re +my cousin just the same. The dear, brave cousin I love.” +</p> + +<p> +This effort to remove the burden of sin from her shoulders to his own, +left him almost unconscious. +</p> + +<p> +Daylight died away, and brought shadows creeping into the room. +</p> + +<p> +Lebrassa lay in a fitful, uneasy doze, starting and waking to gaze +round anxiously for Leslie. The doctor came in to light the lamp and +look at his patient, and out again to fetch Fletcher. The two +Englishmen stayed in the screening shadows so that the dying man could +not see them, knowing their presence might raise a flood of negro +jealousy he was now too feeble to keep under control. +</p> + +<p> +Midnight came. Lebrassa still lay muttering, sometimes in the language +of his mother’s people, sometimes in English—back again to his +boyhood spent in England. +</p> + +<p> +All at once he started up with the wild war-cry of his negro +ancestors. Fletcher and the doctor darted forward to hold down the +maimed, distorted thing howling on the couch. Their presence maddened +him, and brought back all the hatred of the whites that had once been +his. +</p> + +<p> +A savage roar of fury greeted them in the heathen dialect that, in +past days, had led many a charge against their color. +</p> + +<p> +There was a quick movement beside him, and a slim, white hand was laid +on his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Essel! Essel, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie’s voice brought his mad, blazing eyes from the two white men. +For a moment he looked at her in bewilderment, then a smile came. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, little rose!” he exclaimed, as if brought out of some nightmare. +</p> + +<p> +Falling back weakly, he lay watching her. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep hold of me, little cousin,” he gasped presently. “Hell is so +close now. Hell here and hereafter.” +</p> + +<p> +With an arm around his neck, she sat with her face pressed close +against his brown one. +</p> + +<p> +His voice came again, peevish and fretful. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s so dark now, I can’t see you, dearest. You won’t go where I +can’t find you, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear, I’ll stay with you always.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. But a bandaged arm came out from beneath the +coverlet and groped round blindly as if feeling for something. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie put it round her waist where it stayed contentedly. +</p> + +<p> +For some time there was silence. The night wind came creeping through +the fretted arches, bringing the moaning sigh of the surrounding +wilderness, and distant, weird, wild, forest howls. +</p> + +<p> +Then a whisper came, faint and far away, from just on the Verge—the +last, tired sigh of a soul slipping into eternity. +</p> + +<p> +“I deceived you, little rose. I swear it on my dying oath. Say you +believe—” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you, dear. Of course I do,” she whispered, stooping. +</p> + +<p> +But the lips Leslie kissed were dead ones. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch31"> +CHAPTER XXXI +</h3> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza ch_ep"> +<span class="i0">“<i>I loved her better than my life,</i></span><br> +<span class="i0"><i>And better than my soul.</i>”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">On</span> the veranda of Harding’s bungalow Leslie was sitting. Over two +months had passed since, away in the wilds, Essel, Earl of Alglenton, +the man known as the Hyena, had died. The previous day, in Fletcher’s +charge, the girl had returned to Calabar. Now, as the Major’s guest, +she was awaiting the arrival of the steamer that was to take her back +to England and civilization. +</p> + +<p> +To Leslie, the time that had elapsed since Molly’s marriage had +assumed the aspect of some ghastly nightmare from which she had +emerged with the shadow of sin upon her. She could not make up her +mind which of her cousin’s two confessions was the true one; there was +so much for and against each. +</p> + +<p> +Yet Captain Fletcher, who was generally right about things, always +voted in favor of the last. +</p> + +<p> +The mere idea that her father might not be responsible for Lebrassa’s +crimes had lifted the cloud of despair that had settled on the girl. +</p> + +<p> +As she sat there brooding, another problem confronted her—the problem +of a living. In a listless manner she was going through a pile of +papers on a table beside her, too full of other thoughts to realize +they were more than a month old. +</p> + +<p> +From this occupation a step roused her, and sent her eyes to the big +sunburnt man coming along the veranda. +</p> + +<p> +Now, where Leslie was concerned, Fletcher had no nervousness. She was +the woman he loved, who loved him, and who deliberately shut herself +away from him behind the barrier of her father’s possible crimes. +</p> + +<p> +Halting at her side, he eyed the newspaper she was scanning, which was +open at the “help wanted” page. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you looking at that?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I must get something to do when I return to England.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was not looking forward to taking up life again. For two years +she had been more or less out of things, and she knew the future was +not going to be any too pleasant or easy. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s only one job open for you now, and that’s marrying me,” he +said firmly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d marry you to-morrow, dear, if—” +</p> + +<p> +She broke off, the blighted look he now knew very well again on her +face. +</p> + +<p> +Before Fletcher there arose the picture of a dim room in a far-away +marble palace, a mangled form on a low couch, the anxiety in its +tainted eyes, and his promise to a dying man. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling, I know your cousin’s second confession was the true one, +everything points to it,” he said tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“But my father wasn’t my idea of an honorable man, Lindsay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any man would go to pieces if he had to give up everything and fly +for his life.” +</p> + +<p> +Earnestly she looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you <i>really</i> think Essel was speaking the truth when he said my +father was not to blame? You know he’d endure anything, tell any lie +to save me.” +</p> + +<p> +In his own mind Fletcher had no doubt which was the real culprit. For +all that he was adding brick after brick to the wall of deception +Lebrassa had endeavored to raise between the girl and the truth, +hoping it would soon be high enough to screen from her the deeds that +some men will do in their lust for power and position and money. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course he was, my darling,” he said firmly. “Haven’t I said so a +thousand times. And have you ever caught me in a lie?” he added +bravely. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie took one of his sunburnt hands and pressed it to her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been so good to me, Lindsay,” she whispered. “And sometimes I +almost think you’re right about—my father not being to blame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me some proof of your faith by marrying me. Don’t spoil both our +lives because of a fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I could really think it was a fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all it is, darling. A fancy that, if you’re not careful, is +going to make a mess of both our lives.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do so want you to be happy,” she said, suddenly weakening. “And if +you really think—” +</p> + +<p> +Fletcher did not give her time to finish her sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“Think! I know,” he exclaimed, catching her into his arms. +</p> + +<p> +He kissed the small, white, anxious face and the wide, blue eyes that +were looking into his as if trying to read the truth in his soul. +</p> + +<p> +“He was a hero, that cousin of yours,” he said hoarsely, a few minutes +later. “A far braver man than you know, Leslie. Braver than I could +have been under the same conditions.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie liked to hear him praise her cousin, and she tried to think his +words referred to the tortures Lebrassa had undergone for her sake, +which Fletcher had accounted for by saying the Kalluians had objected +to their Sultan’s marrying a white woman. +</p> + +<p> +But to Fletcher, now, the wall of deception he had built round Leslie +was a monument raised to the memory of a brave man whom Fate and +circumstances had driven mad. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +THE END +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. bloodthirsty/blood-thirsty, +market-square/market square, etc.) have been preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Formatting: abandon the use of drop-caps and left-align the chapter +epigraphs. +</p> + +<p> +Fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings. +</p> + +<p> +Add ToC. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter II] +</p> + +<p> +Change “I can see your <i>ear</i> eyes opening when you receive this” to +<i>dear</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter III] +</p> + +<p> +“In the lounge hall of the <i>hotle</i> the visitors were assembling” to +<i>hotel</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter IV] +</p> + +<p> +“but quite another to dine tête-à-tête <i>wtih</i> a” to <i>with</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VI] +</p> + +<p> +“He leaves for England the day after <i>tomorrow</i>” to <i>to-morrow</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter VIII] +</p> + +<p> +“Presently, approaching <i>foosteps</i> made her glance round” to +<i>footsteps</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXIV] +</p> + +<p> +“a slim girl, like a golden reed, <i>drapped</i> in the garment of the” +<i>draped</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“As if brooding on the <i>long dead</i> past, Lebrassa paused again” to +<i>long-dead</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXVII] +</p> + +<p> +“knew that beyond lies a secret <i>pasage</i> leading to the heart” to +<i>passage</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78276 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78276-h/images/cover.jpg b/78276-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7486af --- /dev/null +++ b/78276-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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