"I give you five minutes," he said. "If you do not make up your mind to tell the truth within five minutes by my watch--well, you know what'll happen."
The major glanced significantly at the line of Soudanese. He deliberately cut and lit a cigar. Captain Lister had resumed his pipe and was puffing vigorously; Lieutenant Mumford gripped the sides of his seat, and stared; while the doctor was apparently examining the Arab's anatomy with a quite professional interest. To Tom his uncle was appearing in a new light, commanding a new respect and admiration; and as to Mbutu, he was patently overawed by the stern imperturbability of "sah him uncle".
The minutes went by. The silence of the bright morning was broken only by the varied sounds of movement in the camp: the laughter of the Zanzibaris; the clash of a cook's pan; the bleat of a goat led to the slaughter.
"You have half a minute," said the major suddenly.
"I know nothing, master, nothing at all," replied the guide, his lips quivering.
There was again silence. Then the major rapped his hand on the table.
"Now!" he said. "What have you to say?"
"I know nothing about it, nothing about it!" persisted the man.
"I've no time to waste," said the major curtly, replacing his watch. "Sergeant, take him away."
Two of the tall Soudanese laid their hands on the guide's arms. He wriggled out of their grasp and flung himself on the ground. They seized him again, assisted by their comrades; and, struggling desperately, crying continually: "I know nothing about it, know nothing about it!" he was carried away. Tom's heart was in his mouth, and Mumford had sprung up in his excitement. Captain Lister still smoked on placidly; while the major's lips were grimly set as he watched the man's contortions. He had been borne but a few yards when his writhing suddenly ceased.