He gave the man ten minutes to recover from the effects of his fear, then sent for him. "Lord," said he, "I know nothing of the Devil Man save that he is the greatest witch-doctor in the world, and on nights when the moon is up and certain stars are in their places he comes like a ghost, and we are all afraid. Then those of us who need him go forth into the forest, and he gives to us according to our desires." "How carried he the drug?" "Lord, it was in a crystal rod, such as white men carry their medicines in. I will bring it to you." He went back to his hut and returned a few minutes later with a phial, the fellow to that which was already in Sanders' possession. The Commissioner took it and smelt at the opening. There was the faintest odour of almonds, and Sanders whistled, for he recognised the after-scent of cyanide of potassium, which is not such a drug as untutored witch-doctors know, much less employ. * * * * * "I can only suggest," wrote Sanders to headquarters, "that by some mischance the medicine chest of the late Sir George Carsley has come into the possession of a native 'doctor.' You will remember that the chest was with the professor when he was drowned. It has possibly been washed up and discovered.... In the meantime, I am making diligent inquiries as to the identity of the Devil Man, who seems to have leapt into fame so suddenly." There were sleepless nights ahead for Sanders, nights of swift marchings and doublings, of quick runs up the river, of unexpected arrivals in villages, of lonely vigils in the forest and by strange pools. But he had no word of the Devil Man, though he learnt many things of interest. Most potent of his magical possessions was a box, "so small," said one who had seen it, and indicated a six-inch square. In this box dwelt a small and malicious god who pinched and scratched (yet without leaving a mark), who could stick needles into the human body and never draw blood. "I give it up," said Sanders in despair, and went back to his base to think matters out. He was sitting at dinner one night, when far away on the river the drum beat. It was not the regular _lo-koli_ roll, but a series of staccato tappings, and, stepping softly to the door, the Commissioner listened. He had borrowed the Houssa signalling staff from headquarters, and stationed them at intervals along the river. On a still night the tapping of a drum carries far, but the rattle of iron-wood sticks on a hollowed tree-trunk carries farthest of all. "Clok-clok, clockitty-clock." It sounded like the far-away croaking of a bull-frog; but Sanders picked out the letters: "Devil Man sacrifices to-morrow night in the Forest of Dreams." As he jotted down the message on the white sleeve of his jacket, Abiboo came running up the path. "I have heard," said Sanders briefly. "There is steam in the _pucapuc_?" "We are ready, master," said the man.