“We were shipmates, if I am not mistaken,” he said. “I dare say you found it nicer work smoking on the after-deck than lying here in the sun.” Still I said nothing. If the man had come to mock me, he would get no change out of David Crawfurd. “Tut, tut, don’t be sulky. You have no quarrel with me. Between ourselves,” and he dropped his voice, “I tried to save you; but you had seen rather too much to be safe. What devil prompted you to steal a horse and go to the cave? I don’t blame you for overhearing us; but if you had had the sense of a louse you would have gone off to the Berg with your news. By the way, how did you manage it? A cellar, I suppose. Our friend Laputa was a fool not to take better precautions; but I must say you acted the drunkard pretty well.” The vanity of 19 is an incalculable thing. I rose to the fly. “I know the kind of precaution you wanted to take,” I muttered. “You heard that too? Well, I confess I am in favour of doing a job thoroughly when I take it up.” “In the Koodoo Flats, for example,” I said. He sat down beside me, and laughed softly. “You heard my little story? You are clever, Mr Storekeeper, but not quite clever enough. What if I can act a part as well as yourself?” And he thrust his yellow face close to mine. I saw his meaning, and did not for a second believe him; but I had the sense to temporize. “Do you mean to say that you did not kill the Dutchmen, and did not mean to knife me?” “I mean to say that I am not a fool,” he said, lighting another cigarette. “I am a white man, Mr Storekeeper, and I play the white man’s game. Why do you think I am here? Simply because I was the only man in Africa who had the pluck to get to the heart of this business. I am here to dish Laputa, and by God I am going to do it.” I was scarcely prepared for such incredible bluff. I knew every word was a lie, but I wanted to hear more, for the man fascinated me. “I suppose you know what will happen to you,” he said, flicking the ashes from his cigarette. “To-morrow at Inanda’s Kraal, when the vow is over, they will give you a taste of Kaffir habits. Not death, my friend—that would be simple enough—but a slow death with every refinement of horror. You have broken into their sacred places, and you will be sacrificed to Laputa’s god. I have seen native torture before, and his own mother would run away shrieking from a man who had endured it.” I said nothing, but the thought made my flesh creep. “Well,” he went on, “you’re in an awkward plight, but I think I can help you. What if I can save your life, Mr Storekeeper? You are trussed up like a fowl, and can do nothing. I am the only man alive who can help you. I am willing to do it, too—on my own terms.” I did not wait to hear those terms, for I had a shrewd guess what they would be. My hatred of Henriques rose and choked me. I saw murder and trickery in his mean eyes and cruel mouth. I could not, to be saved from the uttermost horror, have made myself his ally.