The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar WallaceЧитать онлайн книгу.
for the girl, and in her desperation she used an argument which was unanswerable.
“The law allows this,” she said. “These things happen all over the world where missionary work is in progress. Perhaps I could bring the women to understand; perhaps I could explain — ?”
“You couldn’t explain the babies out of existence,” said Sanders brutally.
That ended the discussion, for with a look of scorn and disgust she passed into the hut, leaving Sanders a prey to some emotion.
He turned a cold eye to the offending Fembeni.
“It seems,” he said, “that a man by becoming a Christian has less mouths to fill. Now I must investigate this matter.”
Fembeni regarded him apprehensively, for if a woman is questioned, who knows what she will say? And it was fairly unimportant to the man if he had one wife or forty.
There was no possibility of searching any farther that night for the erring Oko, and Sanders was rowed across the river in his canoe to interview the wives of the new convert.
He found one woman who viewed the coming change with considerable philosophy, and three who were very shrill and very voluble.
“Lord,” said one of these three in that insolent tone which only native women assume, “this white witch has taken our man — ?”
“I do not hear well,” said Sanders quickly, “yet I thought I heard a word I do not like.”
He whiffled a pliant stick till it hummed a tune.
“Lord,” said the woman, dropping her voice and speaking more mildly, “this God-lady has taken our man.”
“God-ladies do not take men,” said Sanders; “rather they influence their spirits that they may be better men.”
“Fembeni will be no better and no worse,” said the woman bitterly, “for he goes to the forest by night; often he has risen from my side, and when he has gone, behold the Nine Terrible Men have come from near by and taken that which they wanted.”
She stopped abruptly. There was horror in the eyes which met the Commissioner’s; in her anger she had said too much.
“That is foolish talk,” said Sanders easily.
He knew there would be no more information here and he played to quieten her fears.
He strolled through the village, talked awhile with the headman, and returned to his canoe.
Once on the Zaire he summoned Abiboo.
“Take three men and bring Fembeni to me,” he said, “and be very ready to shoot him, for I have heard certain things.”
He waited for ten minutes, then Abiboo returned — alone.
“Fembeni has gone into the forest,” he said; “also the God-lady.”
Sanders looked at him.
“How?”
“Lord, this Fembeni is a Christian, and desired to speak with the God-woman of the new magic. So they walked together, the God-woman reading from a book. Also he had a gift for her, which he bought from a Frenchi trader.”
“I see,” said Sanders.
He poured himself out a Stiff glass of whiskey, and his hand shook a little.
Then he lifted down a sporting rifle that hung on the wall of his cabin, broke open two packets of cartridges, and dropped them into his coat pocket.
“Let the men come on quickly,” he said, “you commanding.”
“Lord, there are other Sergeants,” said Abiboo. “I will go with you, for I am at your right hand, though death waits me.”
“As you will,” said Sanders roughly.
He went through the missionary compound, stopping only that a boy should point out the direction the two had taken, then he moved swiftly towards the forest, Abiboo at his heels.
He followed the beaten track for a hundred yards. Then he stopped and sniffed like a dog.
He went on a little farther and came back on his tracks.
He stooped and picked up some pieces of broken glass and turned aside from the path, following his nose.
*
Ruth Glandynne had supreme faith in the power of the Word which makes martyrs.
“You must have no doubt, Fembeni,” she said in her halting Isisi, “for with Light, such things as the Word brings, all things will be made plain to: you.”
They were beyond the confines of the little mission station, walking slowly towards the forest.
She read little extracts from the book she carried, and so full of her subject was she that she did not observe that they had passed the straggling trees, the outposts of the big forest.
When she did notice this she turned.
“More I will tell you, Fembeni,” she said.
“Lady, tell me now,” he begged, “for Sandi has made me doubt.”
She frowned. What mischief can a materialist work! She had liked Sanders. Now for one resentful moment she almost hated him.
“There are white men who doubt,” she said, “and who place pitfalls in the way—”
“Also this have I bought for you,” said Fembeni, “paying one bag of salt.”
From the leather pouch at his side he produced a long flat flask.
She smiled as she recognised the floral label of the abominable scent beloved of the natives.
“This I bought for you, teacher,” he said, and removed the stopper so that the unoffending evening reeked of a sudden with the odour of musk, “that you might protect me against Sandi, who is no God-man but a devil.”
She took the bottle and hastily replaced the stopper.
“Sandi is no devil,” she said gently, “and will do you no harm.”
“He has crossed the river,” said Fembeni sulkily, and there was a curious glitter in his eyes, “and he will speak with my wives, and they will tell him evil things of me.”
She looked at him gravely.
“What evil things can they say?” she asked.
“They can lie,” he said shortly, “and Sandi will bring his rope and I shall die.”
She smiled. “I do not think you need fear,” she said, andbegan to walk back; but he stood in front of her, and at that instant she realised her danger, and the colour faded from her face.
“If Sandi comes after me to kill me,” he said slowly, “I shall say to him: ‘Behold, I have a woman of your kind, and if you do not pardon me you will be sorry.’”
She thought quickly, then of a sudden leapt past him and fled in the direction of the station.
He was after her in a flash. She heard the fast patter of his feet, and suddenly felt his arm about her waist.
She screamed, but there was none to hear her, and his big hand covered her mouth.
He shook her violently.
“You live or you die,” he said; “but if you cry out I will beat you till you die.”
He halt carried, half dragged her in the direction of the forest.
She was nearly dead with fear; she was dimly conscious of the fact that he did not take the beaten path, that he turned at right angles and moved unerringly through the wood, following a path of his own knowing.
As