Zu Pfeiffer meditated, tapping the desk with a gold pencil.
“What is the headman?”
“Bambeeba, Excellence.”
“Good. And the servants?”
“One is a Wongolo youth, the others are mixed Walegga and Kavirondo.”
“Arrest them all and see that none gets away.”
“Excellence!”
Schultz saluted and departed. Zu Pfeiffer frowned at the glare which was suddenly extinguished by falling water. He lighted a cigar and waited. Presently the sergeant returned in a waterproof cape, dripping, and announced that the prisoner was ready. Zu Pfeiffer gathered up his long legs and marched stiffly into the Court House adjoining.
Upon a slight dais was a large desk and a cane armchair beneath the Imperial Eagles and a portrait of the Kaiser Wilhelm II. Pale, stubble bearded, and tense eyed with anger, sat Birnier upon a form against the wall; beside him stood Sergeant Schneider, for it is not usual etiquette to put a white prisoner in charge of a black guard. The grizzled sergeant stood stuffy to attention, which zu Pfeiffer acknowledged. Although he did not meet Birnier’s gaze, he scowled as if he had expected him to salute the majesty of the judge as well.
But as zu Pfeiffer mounted the step to the chair of justice he looked up at the portrait of the Kaiser, stopped, and hesitated; then he wheeled abruptly, and barked: