His dinner over, John Ames lit a pipe and adjourned to a cane chair before his office door to await the appearance of Inglefield. The day was hot and drowsy, and he wore the light attire customary in Rhodesia-- shirt and trousers to wit, and leather belt--and on his head a wide-brimmed hat of the "cowboy" order; but the heat notwithstanding, a shiver ran through his frame, bringing with it a not unwarranted misgiving. "This infernal fever again," he said to himself half aloud. "How the mischief am I going to get through the rainy season? No. I really must apply for three months' leave, and get to some cool place at the seaside. If they won't give it me I'll resign. I'm not going to turn into a premature wreck to please anybody." There was very little fear of this alternative. John Ames was far too valuable an official for his superiors to bring themselves to part with so readily. His thorough knowledge of the natives and their ways, his consummate tact in dealing with them, and his scrupulous and unquestionable probity, had already rendered him a man of mark in his department; but withal it never occurred to him for a moment to overestimate himself, or that his chances were one whit better than those of anybody else. In due course Inglefield arrived, and with him Nanzicele and the squad of police whose conduct was under investigation. John Ames was attended by his native messengers--a brace of stalwart Matabele--and, Madula's people having been convened, the investigation began. Even here the picturesque element was not wanting. The open space of the compound was nearly filled; the police ranged in a double file on the one side, the people of Madula under Samvu, the chief's brother, squatting in a semicircle on the other. Inglefield occupied a chair beside John Ames, his orderly behind him, and his interpreter--for his acquaintance with the language was but scanty--rendering the words of each witness. And these were legion; and as the hearing progressed, both sides became more and more excited, to such an extent that when Nanzicele was making his statement, audible murmurs of dissent and disgust, among which such epithets as "liar" were not undiscernible, arose from Samvu's followers. More than once John Ames would intervene, quiet but decisive; but even his influence seemed strained under the task of preserving order among these rival bands of savage and slightly civilised savage. But Nanzicele had no chance. When it came to cross-questioning him, Samvu and another ringed man of Madula's simply turned him inside out. There could be no question but that he had exceeded his orders, and had acted in a grossly provocative and arbitrary manner, calculated to bring about serious trouble.