“Why did you not go into the country and get it for yourself?”
“For several reasons, Allan, of which the best is that it was impossible. The Mazitu swear that if anyone sees that flower he is put to death. Indeed, when they found that I had a bloom of it, they forced me to move to the other side of the country seventy miles away. So I thought that I would wait till I met with some companions who would accompany me. Indeed, to be frank, Allan, it occurred to me that you were the sort of man who would like to interview this wonderful beast that bites off people’s fingers and frightens them to death,” and Brother John stroked his long, white beard and smiled, adding, “Odd that we should have met so soon afterwards, isn’t it?”
“Did you?” I replied, “now did you indeed? Brother John, people say all sorts of things about you, but I have come to the conclusion that there’s nothing the matter with your wits.”
Again he smiled and stroked his long, white beard.
CHAPTER II
THE AUCTION ROOM
I do not think that this conversation about the Pongo savages who were said to worship a Gorilla and a Golden Flower was renewed until we reached my house at Durban. Thither of course I took Mr. Charles Scroope, and thither also came Brother John who, as bedroom accommodation was lacking, pitched his tent in the garden.
One night we sat on the step smoking; Brother John’s only concession to human weakness was that he smoked. He drank no wine or spirits; he never ate meat unless he was obliged, but I rejoice to say that he smoked cigars, like most Americans, when he could get them.
“John,” said I, “I have been thinking over that yarn of yours and have come to one or two conclusions.”
“What may they be, Allan?”