“What bosh!” I said. “Besides, even if it were to come true, I am sorry to say I’ve killed lots of men in the way of business and they don’t bother me overmuch.”
“Did you ever kill one to win a woman?”
“Certainly not. Why, that would be murder. How can you ask me such a thing? But I have killed several to win cattle,” I reflected aloud, remembering my expedition with Saduko against the chief Bangu, and some other incidents in my career.
“I appreciate the difference, Quatermain. If you kill for cows, it is justifiable homicide; if you kill for women, it is murder.”
“Yes,” I replied, “that is how it seems to work out in Africa. You see, women are higher in the scale of creation than cows, therefore crimes committed for their sake are enormously greater than those committed for cows, which just makes the difference between justifiable homicide and murder.”
“Good lord! what an argument,” he exclaimed and relapsed into silence. Had he been accustomed to natives and their ways he would have understood the point much better than he did, though I admit it is difficult to explain.
In due course we reached the wagon without further trouble. While we were shielding our pipes after an excellent supper I asked Anscombe his impressions of Mr. Marnham.
“Queer cove, I think,” he answered. “Been a gentleman, too, and still keeps the manners, which isn’t strange if he is one of the Marnhams, for they are a good family. I wonder he mentioned having served with my father.”
“It slipped out of him. Men who live a lot alone are apt to be surprised into saying things they regret afterwards, as I noticed he did. But why do you wonder?”
“Because as it happens, although I have only just recalled it, my father used to tell some story about a man named Marnham in his regiment. I can’t remember the details, but it had to do with cards when high stakes were being played for, and with the striking of a superior officer in the quarrel that ensued, as a result of which the striker was requested to send in his papers.”