“I laughed. ‘Well, not at once,’ I said. ‘We must find a new house for you first. But if I am right, it may be that things are buried here, or that there are stones which will tell me a tale. See, the floor is higher now than it was. There was a step here at the door, and the mud has nearly covered it.’
“‘It is but the smearing,’ he said, half contemptuously.
“That roused me. Of course I know the native habit of cleaning a house by putting down a fresh layer of mud mixed with a little dung, which in time raises the floor considerably. But I was not to be put off by that. Below the smearing of the old man’s time might be a layer of earth thrown in to hide something. I glanced round. ‘May I borrow a spear?’ I asked.
“He nodded, and I selected one from the corner with a long thin blade. Then I went into the inner room, and he came and stood again to watch me with his peering old eyes. Under his scrutiny, I began in the apse and thrust downward as far as I could. The blade sank to its hilt fairly easily, and that was all.
“Thus I stabbed until I came to the string of the apse, and then, almost at once, I made a discovery. The point of the blade struck a stone. A foot to the left, it touched again, and a foot more. In a few minutes I was all but certain that a stone slab was buried there. You may imagine my excitement.
“Mwezi called his sons and sent one for a native hoe. When he returned, we all gathered about the place while he slowly dug up the trampled mud. In a few minutes a stone slab was being exposed to view, and with my spear I got to work scraping off the earth while he dug free the other end. Suddenly, as I scraped, I made out a cross, and to cut the story short, we laid bare at length what had undoubtedly been an altar-stone. Every one of the five crosses were plainly visible, and left no room for question.
“We stopped out of breath, and I explained something of its use. At that Mwezi spoke suddenly, calling our attention to him. ‘Lift it, lift it,’ he cried. ‘Lift it at once.’
“The old man was a striking spectacle. His withered face was simply alive with emotion. He was kneeling on hands and knees, and his thin fingers worked at the edge of the slab. Something in his voice compelled us, and we got at once to work. After all it was an easy task, for it was soon apparent that the stone was fitted into brick, with which the whole place was paved, and with spade and spear we levered it up a little. Then two of Mwezi’s sons got their fingers under it, and without any great effort raised it completely. They staggered aside with it and the rest of us peered within. For a second we looked, and then Mwezi gave a great cry.
“‘My father, my father! Lo, I have come to thee, as thou didst bid. These many years have I waited, for my spirit spoke true, bidding me rest above thee. Now will I pass on whither thou art passed, and as thou hadst understanding, so it shall befall. Lo, I come to thee, seeking peace!’
“His voice hesitated, and failed, and he fell forward very gently and slowly till his head rested on his hands on the edge of the tomb. None of us dared to move for a few seconds, for Mwezi’s voice rang so truly and convincingly. Great awe fell on us all, for he had spoken as one who certainly saw. Then I stretched out my hand and touched him, but he had gone, as he said. And on his face was peace.