"Mr. Sanders," said Jim, dressed in a suit of the Commissioner's clothes which fitted none too well, "we ought to explain——"
"I understand," said Sanders with a smile. "Gold smuggling!"
Jim nodded.
"And where is your gold—at the bottom of the river?"
It was in the American's heart to lie, but he shook his head. "The chief Bosambo is holding it for me," he confessed.
"H'm!" said Sanders. "Do you know to an ounce how much you have?"
Coulson shook his head.
"Where is Bosambo?" asked Sanders of his orderly.
"Lord, he has gone in haste to his city with twenty paddlers," said Abiboo.
Sanders looked at Jim queerly.