“Well, I am at my wits’ end to decide how to act. Prince John is equally certain that Schwartz has recovered it. When Dan brought him down, a small bag in which he had placed the ju-ju was knocked out of his hand, and it must, therefore, be in Holly Lodge somewhere. The negro is a determined man, and there is a look in his eyes which I have seen in a Pathan’s when—Well, no matter. If your father will not meet me he will at least read a letter. Now, Minkie, it will soon be too dark to find anything among the bushes—”
“Rats!” cried Minkie, so sharply that I jumped, thinking she meant it. “You’ve got six months’ furlough, so you’ll meet Dot often enough. Please go on. What does Prince John intend to do next?”
“He may endeavor to burgle your house. He will kill Schwartz if need be. He will certainly kill Dan.”
Oh, indeed! I pricked up my ears at this. What between the nigger and the mongoose I’m in for a lively time. Nobody is going to be happy until I am cold meat.
“But they will put him in gaol if he tries burglary?” said Minkie, who was unmoved by the prospect of my early death.
“He says that Schwartz simply dare not face him in a court of law.”
“It is our house, you know?”
Captain Stanhope sighed perplexedly. He was a man, discussing hard things with two girls. Minkie gave me a look as much as to say “Don’t miss a word of this,” and went on:
“Of course, one can’t credit the absurd idea that a piece of wood, or brass, or whatever it is, can bring good luck to anyone who possesses it.”
“Our ebony acquaintance holds so strongly to the absurdity that he will stop short of nothing in the effort to secure it. And my old fool of an—I beg your pardon, I mean my respected uncle, is actually plotting with him as to ways and means. He is in favor of informing the Government, but the Kwantu gentleman says the Colonial office will scoff at the notion. He is right there. The officials in Whitehall always do scoff until a certain number of white men and women are murdered, and an army corps has to be sent to exact vengeance.”