The chitoka was now almost deserted, and Dick Sands was left there under the special charge of a havildar: he lost no opportunity of peering into every hut in the hope of catching a glimpse of Mrs. Weldon, who, if Hercules had not misinformed him, had come on hither just in front.
But he was very much perplexed. He could well understand that Mrs. Weldon, if still a prisoner, would be kept out of sight, but why Negoro and Harris did not appear to triumph over him in his humiliation was quite a mystery to him. It was likely enough that the presence of either one or the other of them would be the signal for himself to be exposed to fresh indignity, or even to torture, but Dick would have welcomed the sight of them at Kazonndé, were it only as an indication that Mrs. Weldon and Jack were there also.
It disappointed him, too, that Dingo did not come back. Ever since the dog had brought him the first note, he had kept an answer written ready to send to Hercules, imploring him to look after Mrs. Weldon, and to keep him informed of everything. He began to fear that the faithful creature must be dead, perhaps perished in some attempt to reach himself; it was, however, quite possible that Hercules had taken the dog in some other direction, hoping to gain somedépôt in the interior.
But so thoroughly had Dick persuaded himself that Mrs. Weldon had preceded him to Kazonndé that his disappointment became more and more keen when he failed to discover her. For a while he seemed to yield to despair, and sat down sorrowful and sick at heart.
Suddenly a chorus of voices and trumpets broke upon his ear; he was startled into taking a new interest in what was going on.
"Alvez! Alvez!" was the cry again and again repeated by the crowd.
Here, then, was the great man himself about to appear. Was it not likely that Harris or Negoro might be with him?
Dick stood erect and resolute, his eye vivid with expectation; he felt all eagerness to stand face to face with his betrayers; boy as he was, he was equal to cope with them both.
The kitanda, which came in sight at the end of the street, was nothing more than a kind of hammock covered by a faded and ragged curtain. An old negro stepped out of it. His attendants greeted him with noisy acclamations.
This, then, was the great trader, José Antonio Alvez.