To every question, Ivondwe answered without hesitation. He had been looking after the cattle, yonder, over the rise, at the time, much too far off to have heard or seen anything. Had he been near, the dog would have kept him off. The dog was always unfriendly towards him.
“Where is Ukozi?” asked the inspector. The question was met by a deprecatory laugh.
“Where is the bird that flew over our heads a few hours ago?” asked Ivondwe. “I would remind the chief of the Amapolise that the one question is as easy to answer as the other. A great isanusi such as Ukozi does not send men before him crying aloud his movements.”
“That we shall see,” said the inspector. “Meanwhile Ivondwe, you are arrested and must go with us.”
“Have I not searched the depths of yonder pool?” was Ivondwe’s unconcerned remark. “Ask these.”
“Well, you are a prisoner, and if you make any attempt to escape you will be shot without challenge.” Then turning to me. “Now I think we had better continue our search down to the river bank. I need hardly tell you, Mr Glanton, how I sympathise with you, but we must not lose hope yet. People do strange and unaccountable things at times—generally the last people in the world who would be likely to do them. We shall find Miss Sewin yet.”
“Have you found Hensley yet?” I said bitterly.
He looked grave. The cases were too startlingly akin.
“The old gentleman had better be persuaded to go home,” he said, with a pitying glance at the Major, who was sitting in a state of utter collapse. Kendrew volunteered to effect this. He could join us afterwards, he said.
For the remaining hours of daylight we searched, leaving not a square yard of ground uninvestigated for a radius of miles. But—we found nothing—not even the remotest trace or clue.