Zu Pfeiffer continued to regard the stranger from head to foot, smoking slowly.
“Please to come in,” he said at length, gesturing with his cigar, “and sit down.”
“Thanks so much!”
The trace of irony seemed to escape [zu] Pfeiffer. He gave a guttural order to the sergeant, who saluted and disappeared. The stranger placed his Tirai hat on the table, revealing rumpled brown hair flecked with grey, a high white forehead, and long features; the slight stoop of the shoulders and general carriage rather suggested a professional type than a hunter or trader. He regarded the slim figure staring insolently at him with a hardening look of disapproval.
“What is it you wish?”
“Well, principally I require an elephant licence and the usual permit to trade.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the Kivu country.”
Zu Pfeiffer regarded his cigar tip interestedly.
“You are going to the Wongolo country,” he stated.