Cæsar crossed to a kind of sideboard, made of packing-cases, whence he produced glasses and a bottle of whisky. He then drew a jug of water from a large filter. These he placed upon the table. He requested his guests to smoke, and passed round his cigarette-case. His manner, and the ease with which he played the host, suggested a man of breeding. Both Edward Harden and his nephew accepted cigarettes, but Crouch filled his pipe, and presently the hut was reeking, like an ill-trimmed lamp, of his atrocious "Bull's Eye Shag."
"I owe you an apology," said Cæsar; "an apology and an explanation. You shall have both. But, in the first place, I would like to hear how it was that you came to discover this river?"
It was Edward Harden who answered.
"We were shooting big game on the Kasai," said he, "when we heard mention of the 'Hidden River.'"
"Who spoke of it?" said Cæsar. His dark eyes were seen to flash in the half-light in the hut.
"A party of Fans," said Edward, "with whom we came in contact. We persuaded them to carry our canoe across country. We embarked upon the river three days ago, and paddled up-stream until this afternoon, when we sighted your camp, and nearly came to blows. That's all."
Cæsar leaned forward, with his arms folded on the table, bringing his dark face to within a few inches of the cigarette which Edward held in his lips.
"Were you told anything," said he, in a slow, deliberate voice; "were you told anything--of us?"
Edward Harden, being a man of six foot several inches, was one who was guileless in his nature. He was about to say that the Fans had spoken of the "Fire-gods," when an extraordinary occurrence came to pass.
Crouch sprang to his feet with a yell, and placing one foot upon the seat of the chair upon which he had been sitting, pulled up his trousers to the knee. In his hand he held a knife. All sprang to their feet.