At any rate, he might look into this, and if anything suspicious transpired, he could at least prevent Desmont from leaving before Mallery returned.
“Has he seen you?” asked Bertram.
“No, sah, nor has Desmont Bwana,” was the reply—and Bertram bade Ali show him where the porters were.
They were outside the boma, squatting round a cooking-fire near the “lines” of the Kavirondo porters.
Approaching the little group, Bertram drew his revolver and held it behind him. He did not know why he did this. Possibly subconscious memory of Ali’s advice, perhaps with the expectation that the men might attack him or attempt to escape; or perhaps a little pleasant touch of melodrama. . . .
“Jambo, Murad ibn Mustapha!” he said suddenly. “Desmont Bwana wants you at once. Go quickly.”
A man arose immediately and approached him. “Go back and sit down,” said Bertram, covering the man with his revolver and speaking in German. He returned and sat down. Evidently he understood English and German and answered to the name of Murad ibn Mustapha! . . .
Ali had spoken the truth and it was now up to Bertram Greene to act wisely, promptly and firmly. This lot should be kept under arrest anyhow. But might not all this be part of Desmont’s game as a scout, spy and secret service agent of the British Intelligence Department. Yes, or of the German Intelligence Department.
If there was a German uniform in one of the chop-boxes, it might well be a disguise for him to wear in German East. Or it might be his real dress. Anyhow—he shouldn’t leave the outpost until Major Mallery returned. .
. . And that was a weak shelving of responsibility. He was in command of the post, and Major Mallery and the other officers with him might be scuppered. It was quite possible that neither the Major’s party nor Captain Wavell’s might ever get back to Butindi. He strolled over to his banda and looked in.