“Your people are Kwantus, aren’t they? Have you ever heard of the Kwantu mine?”
“Of course I have. It is in my kingdom. Schwartz owns it, the thief.”
Well, I never! I did gasp a bit at that.
“Are you sure?” I was forced to say.
“Who should know better than I? It is the best mine in West Africa. The price of the shares shows that its value is appreciated by others, though I cannot understand how so much is known in England about it, as it has hardly been opened up. Schwartz obtained the concession solely because we hoped he would give us back our ju-ju.”
Yet I had in my pocket a letter from some Stock Exchange people to Schwartz himself, telling him they could not ascertain the name of the real owner! That was the letter Rikki secured at Polly’s bidding, and hid in his cage.
Somehow, it seemed to prove that Schwartz was really the bad man Prince John made him out to be. I did not quite grasp the meaning of it all, though I was sure that dear old Dad was being swindled, but with fifty-three pounds nineteen and sixpence in my pocket, and five thousand pounds as good as paid to father, and the ju-ju safe in the scullery copper, where Evangeline would light a fire after supper, it would be queer if I failed to bring Schwartz to reason. Besides, I meant to secure the assistance of an older head than mine, as this company business rather bothered me, and I was too young to be well up in “squeezes.”
My new friend lifted his hat with a grand air when I said “Good night.” I walked away quietly, and I heard such a hubbub of strange talk when Prince John rejoined his companions.
I met two other negroes on the road across the green. I fancied they were watching the turning to the railway station to make sure that Schwartz did not leave Holly Lodge without their knowledge. At any rate, I determined to take no risks next morning, as it was more than probable Prince John would tell his confederates of the new power behind the ju-ju.
That night, in my locked bedroom, I examined the little idol very carefully. It was roughly carved; the ivory was yellow with age, and covered with tiny cracks, which looked like a net of fine hair. The skirt was made of a sort of hemp, plaited together, with a small colored bead between each knot. It was just a strip of beaded cloth, which lapped over at the joint, and was held in position by a piece of string. The beads differed from any I had ever seen, but I was almost certain the monkey’s eyes were emeralds, but not good ones, as Mam has a nice emerald and diamond ring, so I know.