"There's a good deal of ophthalmia or trachoma floating around some native districts. I thought I might experiment."
"And this"--she picked up a third bottle--"ah, yes, morphia. But how much alike they all are."
"In appearance, yes; in effect most radically and fatally different--like people," smiled Kingozi.
But though Kingozi's scientific interest was keen in certain directions--as ethnology, drugs, and zoology--it had totally blind spots. Thus the Leopard Woman kept invariably on her table the bowl of fresh flowers; and she manifested an unfailing liking to investigate such strange shrubs, trees, flowers, or nondescript growths as flourished thereabouts.
"Do you know how one names these?" she asked him concerning certain strange blooms.
"I know nothing whatever about vegetables," he replied with indifferent scorn.
Several times after that, forgetting, she proffered the same question and received exactly the same reply. Finally it became a joke to her. Slyly, at sufficient intervals so that he should not become conscious of the repetition, she took delight in eliciting this response, always the same, always delivered with the same detached scorn:
"I know nothing whatever about vegetables."
In the meantime Simba, with great enthusiasm, continued his drill of the askaris. Kingozi gave them an hour early in the day. They developed rapidly from wild trigger yanking. An allowance of two cartridges apiece proved them no great marksmen, but at least steady on discharge.
The "business conversation" Kingozi projected with the Leopard Woman did not take place until late in the week. By that time he had pieced together considerable information, as follows: