“Speaking,” Johnny was on his feet.
“And are you a friend of a person they call Panther Eyes?” Her English, though perfect, was spoken with a foreign accent. Johnny was plagued by the notion that he had seen her somewhere before.
“Yes,” he replied, “Panther Eye and I have been great friends. Won’t you sit down?”
The girl accepted the chair offered to her then, turning eagerly toward him she said, “Can you tell me where he is—this Panther Eye? It is important that I should know. He saved me from death, worse than death—I wish to thank him. My father would reward him.”
“That,” Johnny smiled, “happened in Ethiopia.”
“Yes—yes,” her tone was eager. “You know about it. He has told you. Where is he?” She glanced hurriedly about the room.
“He is not here,” Johnny said. “I do not know where he is, may never know again. He’s that sort.”
“Oh!” The girl voiced her disappointment. “That’s—that’s really terrible. You see,” she went on, “Father is—you might say—rather well to do. Oil and all that. He went to Ethiopia to study oil prospects. He found a valley there and came to love it. He sent for me. We lived there happily. And then—then—” she covered her eyes for an instant. “Then that terrible black giant carried me away. And—and your friend saved me.”
“There’s been a black giant around here,” Johnny said. “I’m sure of that. Could he have been the same man?”
“Oh, no! God forbid!” the girl laughed uncertainly. “That was our servant. We brought him from Africa. He—why, come to think of it, there is a resemblance. But he—Oh my! No. He’s not the man!