“Gad! what a curious dream!” he said to himself, as he rose stiffly from his lounge chair. “I never felt so cold in my life.” By the dim low firelight he made his way to a corner of the room, touched a button and switched on the electric light. The room in an instant assumed its normally bright and cheerful aspect. First putting some coals upon the fire, Kensley went to the sideboard, poured himself out a liqueur glass of brandy, and drank it down. “That’s better,” he said to himself. “I must have slept a deuce of a time. Can’t think why I got so cold.” He turned and looked at the clock. “Half-past seven, by Jove! I must dress sharp: these fellows will be here directly.”
First opening a door into an adjoining room, where he saw the dinner-table already prepared, he went to his bedroom and quickly dressed. He returned just in time to welcome his friends, who arrived almost simultaneously.
Of the three guests, two were Englishmen—average types of their race; the other a dark, good-looking foreigner, of engaging manners. Barreto, as they called him, spoke excellent English, and seemed to have a perfect knowledge of all topics—mainly pertaining to racing, matters theatrical, and cards—which came uppermost in the course of the evening. During the five minutes before dinner was announced one of the visitors caught sight of the tusk standing in the corner of the room.
“Hallo, Kensley!” he said, “what’s this? Something new, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” returned his host; “it’s a big tooth I came across in the warehouse lately. On the whole, it’s about the finest bit of ivory I ever saw; and so, as such specimens grow scarcer every year, I collared it. Makes a nice ornament, doesn’t it?”
“Magnificent!” rejoined Barreto, who had meanwhile approached, and was intently examining the tusk. “I’ve seen a good many tusks in my time, but I have never seen the fellow of this.”
“Why, where did you pick up your knowledge of ivory, Barreto?” asked Kensley. “I knew you were up to most things, but I didn’t know that you were a judge of elephants’ teeth.”
“Well, you see,” returned Barreto, “my family have had to do with Africa for between two and three hundred years. Several of them have left their bones there. I served as a lieutenant with the Portuguese troops in Mozambique when I was a youngster. After that I came home what you call invalidish—no, invalided—with fever; and, as I didn’t intend Africa to have my bones, I left the army and went into diplomacy.”
“I see!” replied Kensley. “Well, that tusk,” patting the great tooth affectionately, “must have been once something of a neighbour of yours. It came from behind Mozambique or Sofala. The elephant that carried it has, I take it, been dead many a long year. From the look of the ivory, and the way it’s been preserved, I should imagine that tooth has lain in some chief’s hut for best part of a century. Possibly it has been some cherished fetish. It could tell some tall stories, I’ll bet, if it could speak. But come along, you fellows: here’s dinner at last.”
The four men strolled into the pleasant ruby-lighted dining-room, sat themselves at the sparkling table, and for an hour devoted themselves heartily to excellent viands and wine, and to the exchange of much merry conversation.