“Me?”

“Perhaps.”

The girl was now, indeed, startled.

Ashah, as she said, never went forth except to do murder. He was the executioner at the temple of the great Jobu. Hundreds, probably thousands, had met death at his hands. His very name was mentioned in Gondar with bated breath, and women frightened refractory children by naming him.

“Why should I die?” asked Zulima, and she cowered beneath her uncle’s fierce glance.

“Because you may have been the American’s accomplice.”

“I do not understand.”

“Do you still adore Jobu?”

“That was the faith of my fathers, and it shall always be mine.”

The girl spoke in a spirit of religious fervor.