Neither Kendrew nor I said much as we returned to the house. This hideous tale of a deep and secret superstition, with its murderous results, existent right in our midst, was too strange, too startling, and yet, every word of it bore infinite evidence of truth. Well, it proved what I have more than once stated, that no white man ever gets to the bottom of a native's innermost ways, however much he may think he does. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. THE LAST PENALTY. Inspector Manvers was a shrewd as well as a smart officer, and it was not long before he had obtained from the two frightened women who had been made prisoners, sufficient information to warrant him in making several additional arrests. These, which were effected cleverly and quietly, included no less a personage than Ivuzamanzi, the son of Tyingoza. This would have astonished me, I own, but for Jan Boom's narrative; besides after the defection of Ivondwe I was prepared to be astonished at nothing. An exhaustive search was made of the gruesome den of death, and in the result the identity of poor Hensley was established beyond a doubt, as his nephew had said. The police spared no pains. They dragged the bottom of the waterhole with grappling hooks, and brought up a quantity of human bones, and old tatters of rotted clothing. It was obvious that quite a number of persons had been done to death here. "The _Abangan 'ema zolweni_ were strong in numbers but otherwise weak. Their brethren were too young, and--they talked." Such had been Jan Boom's dictum, and now events combined to bear it out. Two of the younger prisoners, fearing for their lives, confessed. This example was followed by others, and soon ample evidence was available to draw the web tight round the witch doctor, Ivondwe, Ivuzamanzi and Atyisayo, as prime movers in the whole diabolical cult. And then, that there could be no further room for doubt, Ukozi himself confessed. I own that I was somewhat astonished at this. But since his incarceration the witch doctor's spirit seemed completely to fail him, which was strange; for a native, especially one of his age and standing, does not, as a rule, fear death. But fear, abject and unmistakable, had now taken hold of this one. He trembled and muttered, and at times it seemed as if his mind would give way. Then he declared his willingness to make a statement. Perhaps his life would be spared. But he was given to understand he need entertain no hopes of that kind if he should be convicted at the trial. Even then he persisted. He wanted to throw off the load, he said, for it lay heavy on his heart.