Sapazani brought his hand to his mouth and sat thinking. He knew that the other spoke truly, and yet—
“Further,” went on his visitor, “U’ Ben is my friend. He saved my life once, and has done me good service in the past. His child must not be harmed. For the other, the man, he will be able to do me—to do us—good service in the future, when the time comes, for which reason Mandevu has been constantly near him so that I could find him at any time, therefore he must go free.”
Verna, seated there, alone, in stony-eyed misery, was wondering if it were not all a hideous nightmare. “I have bought his life. I have bought his life,” she kept moaning to herself.
“Rise up, child of U’ Ben,” said a voice, whose owner she had not heard approach. “The word of the chief is that thou and the white man are to go home together, now at once.”
“Do not mock me, Mandevu,” she answered stonily.
“Mock? Au! See. There he comes,” pointing with his stick.
Verna raised her eyes. From the direction where she had last beheld him Alaric Denham was approaching—alone.