"And we are actually slave-owners!" exclaimed de Morin, as we drew near.
"Delange is, my dear fellow," I replied. "The doctor has become a most inveterate trader, a regular nigger-driver. We shall have to give him up to the Egyptian authorities when we get back."
"You do not mean to drag all these women southwards with us?" asked de Morin.
"I really do not know," replied the doctor, "and you had better give me the benefit of your advice on that point. It would be rather a bore to be followed by such a flock of women, but, at the same time Munza might accuse us of despising his gift."
"The King," I observed, "is persuaded that after a short trip towards the south, he will bring us back to his own territory. He will therefore deem it very natural that we should leave these ladies here in our encampment. They will be supposed to be managing our household affairs during our absence."We had by this time reached the shed, whence puffs of hot air, and lightning glances from innumerable eyes greeted us. Nevertheless, in spite of their number, these small beacons were powerless to illumine a moonless night.
"How are we going to get inside this human ant-hill?" asked de Morin. "We shall run the risk of being engulfed in it, and, as for playing, that is out of the question. We shall never be able to see our cards."
"Make your mind easy on that score," replied the doctor. "I never forget anything. You shall have plenty of light."
And as he said this he appeared to be feeling for something in his coat pocket.
"Do you mean to say that you have any matches left?" I exclaimed, "I thought we gave our last box to Madame de Guéran yesterday?"
"I have something better than matches," said Delange.