Inwardly I thought it had done anything but that, but under the circumstances my confounded conceit was considerably tickled by her approval, and I felt disposed to purr. However I answered that talking over natives was an everyday affair with me, in fact part of my trade, and by the time we sat down to lunch—which was not long, for the morning was well on by then—good humour seemed generally restored. Even Falkner had got over his sulks.
“I say, Sewin,” I said to him as I passed him the bottle. “You were talking about going on a trading trip with me. It wouldn’t do to get chipping bits out of the chiefs’ head-rings on the other side of the river, you know. They take that sort of thing much more seriously over there.”
“Oh hang it, Glanton, let a fellow alone, can’t you,” he answered, grinning rather foolishly.
“By the way, Major, has anything more been heard about Hensley?” I said.
“Hensley? Who’s he? Ah, I remember. He’s been over at our place a couple of times. Why? Is he ill?”
“Nobody knows—or where he is. He has disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes. Nobody seems to have the slightest clue as to what has become of him. He went to bed as usual, and in the morning—well, he wasn’t there. He couldn’t have gone away anywhere, for his horses were all on the place, and his boys say they had never heard him express any intention of leaving home.”
“Good gracious, no. We hadn’t heard of it,” said Mrs Sewin. “But—when was it?”
“About a fortnight ago. I didn’t hear of it till the other day—and then through native sources.”