“Do you understand Swahili?” asked Wavell, suddenly, of the prisoner.
“No, not a word,” replied that individual in the same tongue.
“Can you speak it?”
“No, not a word,” he reaffirmed in Swahili.
“Well—did the last two witnesses tell the truth about you?”
“They did not. I have never seen them before. They have never seen me before. I do not know where Pongwa is. I think this is a very fine trial. I like it.”
Other witnesses swore that the accused had indeed done the treacherous deed. One swore with such emphasis and certainty that he carried conviction to the minds of the Court—until it was discovered that witness was swearing that prisoner had stolen a bundle of leaf-tobacco from the son of the woman who was an orphan. . . .
The Court soon found that it could tell when a point was scored against the defendant, without waiting for translation, inasmuch as he always seized his stomach with both hands, groaned, rolled his eyes, and cried that he was suffering horribly from tumbo, when evidence was going unfavourably.
At length all witnesses had been examined, even unto the last, who swore he was the prisoner’s brother, and that he saw the prisoner leading the Germanis and, lo, it wasn’t his brother at all, and concluded with: “Yes—this is true evidence. I have spoken well. I can prove it, for I can produce the sufuria [184] which prisoner gave me to say that I am his brother, and to speak these truths. He is my innocent brother, and was elsewhere when he led the Germanis to Pongwa.”
“Let’s give him something out of the poor-box,” suggested Augustus when this speech was interpreted, and then marred this intimation of kindly feelings by adding: “and then hang the lot of them.”