“I can only repeat what I said before, Major?” I answered. “Candidly I think you’d better leave Ukozi, and his occultism, alone.”
“But it interests me, man. I tell you it interests me. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to make interesting investigations if I have a mind to? Answer me that.”
“Look here,” I said. “I know these people, Major, and you don’t. I have a good many ‘eyes and ears’—as they would put it—scattered about among them, and I’ll try and find out what Ukozi’s game is. He hasn’t started in to fleece you any, you say?”
“No. That he certainly hasn’t.”
“All the more reason why he needs looking after. Well now don’t you have anything more to say to him, at any rate until you hear from me again.”
“He won’t give me the chance. I haven’t seen him for quite a long time. He’s never been away for so long a time before.”
In my own mind I could not but connect Ukozi’s sudden absenteeism in some way with my return.
“Here come the others,” went on the Major. “And Glanton,” he added hurriedly, “don’t let on to the women about what I’ve been telling you, there’s a good fellow.”
I was rather glad to be spared the necessity of making or avoiding any promise. It was near sundown, and as they joined us for a stroll in the cool of the evening I thought to catch a significant flash in Aïda’s eyes, as though she were fully aware of the burden of her father’s conversation with me. Falkner was away at the kraals, for it was counting in time, and I for one did not regret his absence.
Yes, it was a ray of Paradise that sunset glow, as we walked among the flowers in the dew of the evening, for although we two were not alone together yet there was a sweet subtle understanding between us which was infinitely restful. Falkner’s interruption, however unwelcome, had not been altogether inopportune, for it had occurred too late; too late, that is, to prevent a very real understanding, though precluding anything more definite. That would come with the next opportunity.