"How do they come to be spread all over the place?" (We were shooting questions at him one after the other, and Juma began to look as if he would have preferred a repetition of the toe-nail incident.)
"Oh, he travel much, an' byumby lose all money, then stay here. Tea, him growing cold."
There is no persuading the native servant who has lived under the Union Jack that an Englishman does not need hot tea at frequent intervals, even after three cocktails in an afternoon. So we trooped to the table to oblige him, and went through the form of being much refreshed.
"What is that man's name?" demanded Monty.
"Hassan."
"Do you know him?"
"Everybody know him!"
"Can you get a message to him?"
"Yes, bwana."
"Tell him to come and talk with us at the hotel as soon as he hears we are out of this."